In an unfamiliar city this size, finding somewhere safe to stay came first.
Gareth spent a good ten minutes walking the main streets, bought two changes of clothes, and stopped in front of an inn called the Drunken Fox, a solid three-story building of stone and timber, its sign showing a fox curled around a wine bottle. Two grizzled mercenaries sat out front on a bench, trading stories.
Good enough. He went in.
Behind the counter sat a heavyset woman in her forties with a practiced smile. "Looking for a room, sir?"
"Long-term, if you've got one. What's the rate?"
"Forty silver a month, that covers breakfast and dinner both. Five more silver on top gets you a room with your own bath, no sharing down the hall."
"I'll take the one with the bath."
He set a gold coin on the counter, pulled from his storage space but made to look like it came from his coat. Northwind's prices ran higher than he'd expected, back home this much would've covered years in the Guild's shared bunkhouse.
She made change, took a bronze key shaped like a tiger's head off the wall, and handed it over. "Top floor, end of the hall. You'll know it by the tiger-head lock."
"Thank you."
The room was simple but clean, bed, table, wardrobe, a small attached bath in the corner, everything fresh. Worth the price. He set his sword and staff within easy reach of the bed, showered, and lay down.
Seven days on the road had worn on him more than he expected. Tier-3 body or not, exhaustion still found a way in.
"Tomorrow, I register at the Guild," he murmured to the ceiling, working through the shape of it in his head. Get a mercenary tag first, something to move around the city without questions. Then feel out who actually held power here, which noble houses mattered, which merchant guilds ran deep, and where the strongest mercenary groups drank when they weren't working. Northwind was too big to walk into blind.
The plan settled into place, and sleep took him not long after.
He ate breakfast downstairs the next morning and asked the innkeeper for directions before heading out.
The Mercenary Guild sat just south of the city center, a two-story building of gray stone, plainer than the merchant guild halls but busier by far.
Inside, the noise hit him first. The hall was packed, mercenaries in leather with swords at their hips, robed mages, a knot of dwarves in the corner already red-faced from drink. Quest boards lined the walls, covered edge to edge in job postings. People pulled tags down and lined up at the desk while others came back from finished jobs, loud and laughing, collecting their pay. The place smelled like sweat and cheap liquor.
Gareth had spent enough time around mercenaries back home that the noise felt almost familiar.
He walked up to the registration counter. The clerk, a scarred woman in her thirties, didn't look up. "Registering?"
"Yes."
"Name?"
"Gareth Draventhal."
"Where are you from?"
"Bedrock Town."
That got her attention. Bedrock sat right on the edge of the Forest of Doom, a name the mercenary circles around here knew well enough.
"Rank?"
"Tier-2 Knight, 1-Star."
He held back, same advice he'd heard a dozen times growing up: keep your strength quiet on the road, from your rank to your clothes to what you spend on food. Less attention meant less trouble.
"Done." She pulled an iron tag from a drawer, etched a few lines into it, and slid it across. "You know the rules. Lose it, replacement's a silver coin."
"Understood."
The tag read: Gareth Draventhal, F-5611, Black Iron.
Mercenary rank climbed from Black Iron up through Bronze, Silver, Gold, Purple-Gold, Black-Gold, and finally the Mercenary King, a title that existed mostly in stories. Bounty quests ran on a separate scale, F through S, lettered from easiest to hardest.
He crossed to the quest board. Nothing posted above C-rank, the higher-tier jobs never made it to the wall, those went straight to established groups through private contract. F-rank covered errands and deliveries for a handful of copper. E-rank started involving real subjugation work and escort duty, paying in silver. D-rank meant fighting Tier-2 or Tier-3 beasts, or running escort through actual danger, paid in gold. Past that, jobs needed a full team.
He was still scanning tags when a voice cut in from behind him.
"Hey. You new?"
He turned. A girl, seventeen or eighteen, stood with her head tilted, sizing him up openly. New leather armor, a short sword at her waist, a face that still held some youth in it but eyes that carried real confidence. Black hair loose over her shoulders, fair-skinned, genuinely pretty.
The system stayed silent. Whatever her looks were worth, her Talent apparently wasn't pulling its weight.
A shame, Gareth thought.
"What are you staring at?" she said, catching him looking, arms crossing.
"Nothing. Just thinking." He looked away, calm. "You're a mercenary too, I take it."
"No, I just like wearing armor for fun." She rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite in it. "Yes, obviously. You, though, you've got that fresh-off-the-cart look. New tag?"
"Got it this morning."
"Called it." She tapped her own tag against her palm, pleased with herself. "I'm Nicole. Nicole Thorne. I'm putting a team together, E-rank goes a lot smoother as a pair than solo, trust me, I tried solo for exactly one week and nearly lost a finger to a Wind Wolf that wouldn't die."
"You still have all your fingers."
"Barely. What's your rank?"
"Tier-2 Knight, 1-Star."
"Same as me!" Her eyes lit up. "Perfect, let's team up. Murphy's Potion Shop is buying Wind Wolf cores and mutant bones this week, and the Guild's got a standing bounty on pelts too. Between the two of us, seven or eight a day won't be a problem."
"Sure."
Gareth thought it over for a moment, then nodded. "Teaming up works. One condition, though."
His real strength, Tier-3 Grand Knight and Tier-3 Archmage both, made Tier-1 or Tier-2 Wind Wolves barely worth the effort, even holding back. Besides, teaming up with her wasn't a bad move regardless. She could show him the city faster than he'd learn it alone. And a cheerful girl like this, plugged into the local scene, probably had a wide circle of contacts, maybe worth knowing later.
"What condition?"
"I got into the city yesterday. You show me around, keep me from wandering somewhere I shouldn't, and it's a deal."
"That's it?" Nicole paused, then laughed. "Deal! Come on, Deadwood Forest first, let's see what you've actually got."