The next morning came and passed before Grim woke properly, with a gnawing sensation in his stomach and his head feeling heavy. Had he drunk too much the previous night? No, he hadn’t consumed any alcohol. Must have just been a heavy sleep after that amazing bath, he reasoned. Lifting himself slowly to a sitting position, he let out a groan as the emptiness in his stomach became all the more apparent. He wanted… whatever food was available. Clearly, it was too late in the day for breakfast.

  ? To his surprise, he found the mess hall downstairs almost completely abandoned when he reached it. The smell of food lingered in the air, torturing his nose, but he couldn’t find any evidence of its existence beyond the few people still picking at the last of their meals.

  ? “Ah, Grim, you’re finally up!” He turned to see who was speaking and noticed the Guildmaster, Orren, entering the hall through a different door. “Come here, lad. Let me get a better look at you in the light.”

  ? Grim did as he was told. He’d only interacted with the Guildmaster of his Training Guild twice–at his enrollment ceremony and graduation–so he’d never properly gotten a chance to speak to someone who was so highly ranked. Beyond the Council of Guilds, this man was a power unto himself, and he realized, was the ultimate authority in whether or not he could join the guild.

  ? Orren was bald, as he’d noticed the night before, but also clean-shaven. His skin was a light olive and smooth as a newborn’s. It gave him a slightly naive, clueless appearance that ended at his eyes. Dark brown, almost to the point of being black, and heavy. It gave Grim the impression that as he was scanned from head to toe, Orren was seeing beyond the mere physical. He was nodding somewhat, appearing to like what he saw. That gave Grim a little more confidence, and he straightened his shoulders.

  ? “Skinny,” the Guildmaster said critically, tilting his head to one side. “I swear I could pick my teeth with you, lad. When’s the last time you ate a healthy meal?”

  ? Grim stiffened slightly at the critique, especially the unfairness of it. Orren was exceptionally thin–almost scrawny–and Grim could trace the lines of his cheek and jaw with ease. “Last night, sir. I was here for dinner.”

  ? “So you were,” Orren nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He began to pace in a small circle around Grim then. “And before that? Were you living it up in the capital, sucking up resources without providing anything of note?”

  ? “Of course not,” Grim said hotly, feeling his face flush. “I’m not a noble! I had to work for every little-”

  ? “Good, good,” Orren cut him off, reaching his front and coming to a stop. “But you’ll have to contribute in a meaningful way here if you want to stay in my guild, lad. ”

  ? “I-I plan to, sir,” Grim stammered out. "I passed Veyra’s test, didn’t she tell you about it?”

  ? “Hm? Yes, she did. You cleared out a level two dungeon all on your own. Hardly impressive. We know you have the skills to survive a dungeon one level below you.”

  ? He stressed the last four words, making it clear that he didn’t think that achievement was worth much. “But you’ll have much to learn if you want to impress me. And I do not easily impress.”

  ? So he was to take another test. Not entirely surprising. “What would you have me do, sir?”

  ? “For a start, you will no longer address me as sir. This is not a military, though I do command your life for as long as you remain in my guild. Next, I will demand that you visit the market. You need more than one skill. But before you do that, you will report to Clerk Thorne and complete your registration. I run a tight ship here, lad.”

  ? “Yes si-” Grim began, but hesitated. Not sir…

  ? “Forgot my name already?”

  ? “Err, no… Orren. I did not.”

  ? “Good. Once you have returned from the market, you will meet with Felden. He is the best archer we have–at least, the best that is willing to teach new members. He will spend the next month teaching you how to use that boon you lucked into getting. If you’re smart, you’ll listen to every command he gives you. His word is second only to Veyra’s and mine for the foreseeable future. Is that understood?”

  ? Grim snapped to attention at that and tapped his chest with a closed fist as he’d been taught in Beastwick. Orren waved the gesture away. “None of that. Call me by my name, and obey my orders.”

  ? He nearly snapped to attention again, but resisted the impulse. “Yes, Orren.” The man was an imposing figure, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Just the thought of crossing his Guildmaster sent an icy feeling down his spine. How was this man bonded to a flippant, carefree spirit like Veyra? The two seemed polar opposites.

  ? “Good,” Orren replied, leveling his glare at Grim a second longer to make sure he got the point across. Then the stern face was split by a huge grin. “Now. How did I do? You look like I got you shaking in your boots. Was I intimidating?”

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  ? “Err… what?”

  ? A peal of laughter rang out from behind Grim–familiar laughter. Veyra appeared in the corner of his vision, laughing as she walked over to the Guildmaster and slung an arm over his shoulder. “Wow, you really are getting good at that, dear! You’ve nearly got him pissing himself!”

  ? “Yes!” Orren burst out, pumping his fist. “Soon, I’ll do the same to that evil woman! I’m getting tired of her pestering me about her daughter!”

  ? He took on a mournful look, and Veyra wrapped her arms around him at once in a comforting way, her voice adopting a motherly tone. “I know, dear, I know. The big bad Kaelen is a scary woman, isn’t she?”

  ? Orren nodded vigorously, going along with the play for a minute, until Grim began to feel a little awkward. “Sorry about that, lad. Had to make sure you weren’t some stuck-up brat. Veyra told me how she found you. I know it was mean, but even she might have been tricked. But you seem decent.”

  ? “The boy has a name, Orren,” Veyra whined, giving her lover a playful slap on the back of his head. “Use it!”

  ? “You first,” he said, grinning as he dug an elbow into the woman’s ribs. She hopped away on one foot, whining. “Right. Get some lunch before you go see Maven, Grim. That’s an order. I wasn’t kidding, you look as if one more day without food would finish you off.”

  ? “Like *you’re* one to talk,” Veyra teased. “Half the time, I almost think you’re a skeleton monster snuck into the guild to ravish me.”

  ? “I’m lean, thank you!” Orren countered. In a flash, he darted over to Veyra and scooped her up, slinging her over one shoulder, much to her amusement. “I’ll show you ravishing!”

  ? And then they were gone through the same door, the sound of Veyra’s cackling fading quickly. Shaking his head, Grim tried to push the encounter out of his mind. Those two were perfect for each other. His stomach growled at him again, and he finally made his way over to the far end, where the smell of food was the strongest.

  ? “Those two are perfect for each other,” said a voice from behind him, echoing his thoughts. Garf appeared, his hair tousled and a red mark on his cheek. It was almost the exact same shape and size of a fist. “Morning. Looks like you slept well.”

  ? That made Grim hurriedly check himself. Did he have drool marks on his face or something? He patted his hair down for a moment before Garf laughed. “You look fine, Grim. I meant you looked more comfortable. Those two perverts aside.”

  ? “Oh,” Grim said, lowering his hands. “Yeah. I was a little sore after my dungeon delve, so I guess I needed the extra sleep.”

  ? They pushed into the kitchen together to see a man working at a stove, who glanced up at their appearance. “Garf, I swear to all the dungeons I will carve you up for dinner if you step into my domain again!”?

  ? “Hey, it’s not for me, Frankie!” Garf said, his tone playful. “Our new recruit here missed lunch! Make him something quick!”

  ? Frankie? As in the boyfriend of the man that Garf had been playing with the previous night? No wonder the chef looked so angry as he stomped over. He took a step back as Frankie drew closer, his glare bearing down on him. Even for a level two, the man was intimidating with that cleaver in his hand. “You haven’t eaten?”

  ? “Uhh, not yet,” Grim said, then added hastily, “But I can go get some food in town, it’s alright! I don’t want to make you work harder!”

  ? “Like hell you will!” Frankie growled. “Don’t you move. I mean it! Stay right there!”

  ? Not sure if he was in trouble or not, Grim waited there as instructed. It didn’t help that Garf, grinning sheepishly, slipped back through the door. It was almost like he was saving himself.

  ? “Garf? Where are you going?” He asked, but received only a giggle in return. “Damnit.”

  ? He was just beginning to envision the ways he’d get Garf back for this–and if he actually cared enough to do so–when Frankie reappeared through a door… A different door than before. He had a large platter in his hands, piled with sandwiches and several glasses of some pale orange-yellow drink. He shoved the platter into Grim’s arms and shooed him out of the kitchen. “If you still want more, come back. Now, get out of my kitchen!”

  ? Garf waited on the other side near an empty table, an avaricious grin on his face as he spied the platter. “Roast boar! Yes! Good score, rookie!”

  ? He reached out to snag one of the sandwiches. On instinct, Grim turned away. “What makes you think I’m going to give you any? He said this was for me, and you got me in trouble.”

  ? “Oh, please,” Garf said, drawing out the last words. Quicker than Grim could think, he snatched up a sandwich anyway, as well as one of the glasses. “Frankie will moan and complain until your ears fall off, but he never turns down a hungry customer. He was more upset at learning you hadn’t eaten. Why do you think he made these sandwiches fresh?”

  ? They were indeed fresh. At least, still warm, as he picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. The spices burned his tongue in the best way, shoving out the last of the tiredness in his body and arousing his hunger even more than before. He wolfed down the first sandwich without tasting it much, but took his time with the second. There was some kind of tangy sauce coating the meat that complimented the spices perfectly, and urged him to continue eating bite after bite.

  ? The glass, it seemed, had some kind of cold berry tea inside. It was light and refreshing, and gave him more energy than the meat had seemed to. He drained the entire glass in one before returning to his third sandwich.

  ? “Worth the trouble, wasn’t it?” Garf asked, and Grim had to agree, though his mouth was too full to answer properly. “Alright, well, I got a dungeon slot coming up, so I have to go get dressed. Good luck on your first day, rookie. I’ll see you at dinner. If you survive Felden, that is.”

  ? Chuckling at the apprehensive look on Grim’s face, he sauntered away, giving a teasing farewell to Frankie in the kitchen. Judging by the thud and Garf’s hasty exit, Grim thought he might have thrown something. He ignored the antics, enjoying both his meal and the quiet mess hall. There was still a lot to do in the day.