Guild Of Zeroes

Chapter 3

The morning attacked my battered senses with a searing beam of sunlight and a chorus of birdsong chirping out at a completely obscene volume. Groaning, I pushed myself up out of bed, willing my roiling stomach to stay put. I leaned forward resting my elbows on my knees and hanging my head in my hands. A line of fire stitched across my forehead. That's right. I was the world's biggest idiot and I had let Hawk give me a tattoo. What was I thinking? Forgetting my hangover for the moment, I leapt out of bed and threw the lid of my chest open. A wave of dizziness slammed into and pulled me into a riptide of nausea. 

"Okay," I said to myself. "That was too fast." Slowly, carefully, I rifled through the chest and pulled out a small looking glass. I couldn't bear to look at the tattoo. With my luck it was probably something terrible. I bet it was a rat. Or an even stupider animal like a mosquito. They were useless and everyone hated them. That sounded like me. 

I collapsed onto the cold stone floor. It was nice. Maybe I could just stay here forever. That would be great. I'd wall up the room and lie here until I melted into the floor. That would be perfect. I wouldn't have to do anything important or stressful. Ever. I'd just become a floor person. You couldn't fail all of your quests and bring dishonour to the guild if you were part of the floor. I nodded. That sealed it. Floor person from now on. I'd leave the Guild behind and never do anything important ever. If that was the case I guess I could look at my latest Guild Mark. I held up the mirror and what I found was something pretty much the opposite of an ugly mosquito. A snake rippled out from behind my left ear, slithering up the side of my head and ending in a square head that was all sharp fangs and curled horns. A Storm Serpent. 

I frowned at the mark and sat up slowly. What in the hell did that mean? Did it mean anything? Serpents were nasty creatures, solitary by nature and ruled mostly by their own hunger. If one got hungry enough it would even turn on its own and devour its kin. Was that what Hawk thought of me? I was nothing but a drain on the Guild, liable to turn on it and bring down my own friends at any minute? 

I stood with a groan and shuffled over to the writing desk. I still had the Quest to finish, I still had a horse and a few days rations waiting for me down in the stables. Maybe this life wasn’t for me. Maybe this was my chance to quietly slip away from the Guild. I didn’t fit here. I never did. This was my chance to quietly slip away from the Guild. Hopefully there was a better life out there for me somewhere. I found my pack and stuffed a change of clothes into it before slipping into my armour. The world always seemed a little easier to deal with when you were buried under a layer of steel and leather. 

I walked down the stairs to the armoury. The mood in the tower was lethargic today and I only passed a few bleary eyed workers on my way to the armoury. The armoury door squealed open much too loudly on its stupid rusty hinges. Everything was the worst. I was never drinking again. 

The armoury itself wasn’t in much better shape. The Quartermaster leaned over a workbench, staring blankly at a shirt of mail. 

I knocked softly. “I’m here to collect some … stuff.” Words were hard. 

The Quartermaster nodded and slunk into the storeroom. He came back with a saddle in his hands and a set of saddlebags slung over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, looking very much like he was going to throw up. I plucked a helmet off the nearest armour stand and tossed it to him. Better to rinse out a helmet than to mop the floors. He caught it but managed to keep his breakfast down. Midsummer was a big night for everyone. We shared a nod and he opened the door to the stables and helped me saddle a horse. I belted on my sword while the Quartermaster strapped my bow and a quiver of arrows to the saddlebags. 

“Thanks,” I said, swinging up into the saddle. 

The Quartermaster retreated back into his armoury without a word, leaving me alone with my four legged friend. The horse I’d been given was named Walter, yet another one of the Guild’s unremarkable types. He wasn’t a particularly fast horse, or a strong one, but he had at least one hidden talent. Walter didn’t give a tiny rat's ass about anything. In a way, it made him the perfect horse, because unless something was directly trying to eat him, or blow fire at him, or blast him with lightning, he wouldn’t spook or bolt. He mostly just stayed quiet and tried to eat whatever he could fit in his mouth. I thumped his ribs with my heels and together we left the Guild, maybe for good.