Luckborn

2-4: The Guild Recruiter



When Otter stepped into the bustling mess hall for breakfast that morning, the first thing that struck him was the sheer volume of chatter filling the air. It buzzed around him like a swarm of bees. He had overslept, and he wasn't prepared for this level of gregariousness.

This close to exam week, the Academy usually turned quiet. Tense. Most students hunched over textbooks, muttering equations or spell components under their breath. Conversations stayed low and focused—who was ready, who was doomed, who had bribed their familiar to sneak answers under the table.

But today felt different.

There was a pulse of energy in the room, an almost festival-like current humming beneath the clatter of trays and clinking of mugs. Laughter rang out from one corner. At another table, a cluster of students whispered furiously over half-eaten scones, their eyes too bright to be fueled by sleep.

Otter bristled. It was too early for this.

After securing a modest helping of sausage and eggs, he spotted Erin and slid into the seat next to her.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"What ever do you mean?" she replied with a sly grin.

He gave her a flat look and made a slow, exaggerated circle above his head with his fork. "You know. All that."

"Oh, that." She leaned back, letting the moment drag a little. "If you'd gotten up earlier, you would've heard the announcement. A representative from the Adventurer's Guild is coming to recruit students later today."

Otter blinked. "That's... normal, right?"

"Sort of. They usually hire on third-years around this time," Erin said. "But with the Kaosborn acting up, they're expanding early recruitment."

Otter took a long look around the room.

It wasn't just the upperclassmen who looked excited. A lot of his cohort was buzzing too. People who had barely passed their combat trials last semester.

"You don't think they're going after first-years, do you?"

Erin shrugged. "They didn't say. But that's what everyone's whispering about."

Otter grunted. He pushed a chunk of sausage across his plate and tried to suppress the tight, creeping twist in his gut.

This wasn't what they were supposed to be doing yet. The point of the Academy was to train. To level safely. To prepare. Not to throw barely-Classed students at the problem because the Guild was low on warm bodies.

He'd heard stories—too many stories—about 1st level adventurers who tried to fight Kaosborn. Those stories rarely had happy endings.

Levi dropped into the seat across from them, tray already half-empty. "They're not just recruiting," he said, talking around a mouthful of toast. "They're scouting."

Otter raised an eyebrow. "That's a distinction without a difference."

"No, it's not. Recruiting means 'Hey, want a job someday?' Scouting means 'Which of you can we throw into the fire right now?'"

"Charming," Erin muttered. "Who told you that?"

Levi jerked his head toward a nearby table. "Gerry heard it from his older sister. She's in her third year. Says the Guild's stretched thin—there's more Kaosborn activity than they can deal with."

Otter leaned back in his seat, letting the buzz of the hall wash over him again. There was excitement in the air, yes—but under it, something else. A sharpness. Like everyone was pretending this was just another Guild pitch, but deep down, they all knew it wasn't. Something was wrong.

"Do you think we're on the list?" Erin asked.

Levi stared at them. "You mean the team that saved all the kids in the Simulation and took out a kaosheart? No. I can't imagine they'd want you."

Otter exchanged glances with Erin, then looked down at his food. Suddenly, it didn't taste like much.

A few months ago, the idea of fighting real Kaosborn would've sent him running in the opposite direction—and rightly so. But that was before. Before the ruins. Before the Simulation. Before he'd changed.

He and his friends had already faced things first-years weren't supposed to survive. And they had survived. If the Guild was looking for help, maybe this was an opportunity.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

But an opportunity for what? Advancement? Recognition? Or to get diced into component parts because the Guild was chomping at the bit for fresh meat?

Otter stabbed another bite of egg and forced it down.

"We'll see what they say," he murmured. "If it's a suicide mission wrapped in a Guild badge, I'm out. But... if it's something real—something useful—maybe we think about it."

Erin arched an eyebrow. "We?"

He glanced at her. "You don't think we've come this far just to split the party, do you?"

She grinned, sharp and sure. "Not a chance."

***

The guild representative had set up in the central courtyard, where you couldn't help but pass by if you were going anywhere on campus. A navy canvas tent embroidered with the flame-and-gauntlet insignia of the Aurelia Adventurer's Guild provided shelter for a long folding table holding stacks of pamphlets detailing career paths, Class integrations, regional outposts, and "Opportunity Maps" for advancement. Behind it stood a pair of armor mannequins dressed in Guild-standard gear: one light, one heavy, both impossibly polished.

There was no announcement. No fanfare. Just a few third-years clustered near the table, chatting with a bored assistant while music from someone's wrisplay drifted lazily through the air.

Otter and Erin approached at a casual pace.

"This all seems…" Erin tilted her head. "Anticlimactic."

"I think that's the point," Otter murmured. "Show up like it's no big deal, but make sure everyone sees the crest."

A man stood behind the table, half-leaning on one elbow. Late thirties, maybe. Sun-browned skin, military posture softened by a casual stance. He wasn't tall, but his presence demanded attention. His jacket was worn leather, dyed deep blue and trimmed with Guild silver. Two pins gleamed on his lapel—one shaped like a compass, the other a narrow dagger.

"Morning," he said as they stepped up. "Looking for summer work or just curious?"

Erin smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Curious, mostly."

"Well then." He reached for a pamphlet. "This outlines the Guild's tiered track system, both for combat and support roles. We take on applicants starting in the third year, but those who show promise can fast-track approval with sponsorship. Your Academy records will be reviewed, as will instructor recommendations and Simulation metrics. We're looking for cohesion, skill development, and aptitude in at least one adaptive category: fieldwork, tactical reasoning, survival, or group dynamics."

He handed each of them a copy, then reached for a clipboard resting under his elbow.

"Names?" he asked.

"Erin Shawe."

"Otter Bennett."

He paused for the briefest moment—then flipped the page.

Otter caught it. That half-second of stillness. A tick in the rhythm. But the rep said nothing.

Instead, his gaze returned to Erin. "You're listed under the Simulation Rescue team, right? Lead Support?"

Erin blinked. "Um." She looked at Otter, then back to the rep. "I guess. I was there."

He nodded, reading. "Assisted in the rescue of seven students. Evaded hostile Kaosborn. Destroyed a kaosheart?" He whistled at the last note.

"Yes," she said, straighter now.

"Strong marks," the rep said. "Good to know."

He didn't look at Otter. Didn't say his name again. Anger flared in Otter's chest. He'd done all the same things the rep praised Erin for. Why was she getting all the attention? He was about to make an acerbic comment about the man looking for a pretty face instead of talent, but stopped himself. That would be hurtful to his best friend—his girlfriend? He still didn't know how to label their relationship. Plus, it would just be plain wrong. Of course, the man was here looking for talent. But why was he ignoring Otter? Something else was going on here. Something Otter didn't understand.

Otter cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sense of being sidelined. "I worked with Erin, too," he finally said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "We were on the same team during the Simulation."

The guild representative's gaze flicked to Otter for a heartbeat, then back to Erin, as if acknowledging a footnote and returning to the headline.

"Of course," he said, not unkindly. "Everyone on the team played a part."

It wasn't a dismissal—but it wasn't recognition either. It was the kind of statement you gave when you didn't want to say what you were really thinking.

Erin shifted her weight, sensing the odd current between them. "So... if we were interested in summer work, what kind of assignments would that involve?"

"Depends," the rep said. "Most third-years will be assigned support roles—scouting, logistics, security detail for long-term teams. As I'm sure you're aware, the Guild doesn't generally even consider taking on an adventurer until they've graduated from the Academy, but things are changing. Some first- and second-years with sponsor endorsements might be added to reconnaissance crews or auxiliary strike groups. Nothing full-frontal, of course. Mostly gopher and grunt work we can't spare anyone for."

Otter heard the qualifiers but didn't believe them. Not completely.

"Do you have many... first-years applying?" Erin asked.

"At the moment, we don't take applications from first-year students. At least, not in the traditional sense. If you were interested, you would need to speak with an Academy instructor about being your sponsor, and they would go through the application process on your behalf."

"Okay, thanks," Erin said, clutching her pamphlet as they turned away.

Otter followed in silence.

They walked back toward the dorm path, weaving between other students filtering toward the courtyard, chatting excitedly, comparing notes.

"He was weird," Erin said quietly.

"Yeah," Otter replied. "Weird."

She looked at him, searching. "Are you okay?"

He forced a smile. "Of course."

But the gears were already turning in his mind. That pause at his name hadn't been ignorance—it had been recognition. But not the kind you brag about.

So why ignore him? Because they knew something they didn't want to say aloud? Or because they didn't know what to do with him? They didn't know what role he would play on an adventuring team. That was an all-too-familiar thought. Before his encounter with the Shadow Guardian, he would have felt ashamed by it. But not now. If the Adventurer's Guild didn't see his value now, they would by the time he graduated.

Otter looked down at the brochure still clenched in his hand. On the cover, a smiling trio of Classed adventurers stood on a rocky ridge, sunlight gleaming off their weapons.

Your future starts today.

He folded it in half and shoved it in his pocket.


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.