Guild Of Zeroes

Chapter 8

Mouse let out a displeased whine and took off the steel skull cap helm that Quin had handed him. He spread his arms and frowned down at the thick, padded armour we had dressed him in. "Do I really have to wear all this?"

Quin took the helmet from him and put it back on his head, tying the laces under his chin. "Yes."

Mouse grumbled and slipped his satchel full of supplies and rations over his shoulder. "Even the helmet?"

"Especially the helmet," said Quin. "If you can only have one piece of kit it should be a helmet."

"So why am I wearing all this other shite?"

"Because we have more options than just a helmet. You need something sturdier than your robes."

"My robes are plenty sturdy."

I rolled my eyes and picked up my scarred brigandine. The tears in the cloth still hadn't been repaired and the steel beneath was scratched. "Are they sturdier than my armour? Because this is what happened last time I was out."

Mouse swallowed hard and tightened the heavy belt around his waist. "Okay," he said, drawing out the word. "I'm good to go with this. This is fine."

Quin gave him a hard slap on the shoulder. "That's better. Now, I'll need help getting all my stuff on."

It was an ordeal to get Quin stuffed into their armour. When we were done helping them into the layers of mail and plate, I was convinced they wouldn't be able to move at all, but they pulled a sword down from the weapon racks and whirled it in a flourish that was nearly as fluid as if they were unarmored.

"Ready?" They asked.

I finished lacing up my armour, slipped my new bow into its quiver, and grabbed a wide brimmed helmet of my own from one of the armour racks. "Ready. Let's go."

Quin threw open the doors to the stables and we came nose to nose with Sabre. The old warrior was a head shorter than Quin but he was stockier, all muscle and gristle with curly hair that was dusted with grey and a coarse beard the colour of polished steel. He was wearing a pair of leather pants and a vest made of black scales that was open to show off the wealth of Guild Marks he bore. Even from here I could see awards for slaying monsters, winning duels, surviving sieges and across his chest was a cracked skull with a single red, glowing eye. The Mark of the Warrior Returned, something given only to those who the medica had deemed beyond saving but had been too stubborn or angry to die.

Sabre put his hands on his hips and stared up at Quin. "Alessia," he growled. His voice was deep and raspy, like an axe being honed against a grindstone.

Ensconced behind their layers of steel, Quin didn't seem to react, but I knew them better than that. I caught the barest dip of their head and the way their left foot shuffled back a fraction of an inch. It was like they were on the training square and fighting the urge to flinch away from a blow hurtling towards them. I couldn't blame them either. None of us liked being called by our real name. When you joined the Guild you left all of that behind to become something more. Hearing your own name out loud could be a reminder that you were only human, or a threat that you might not be Guild material.

"Sir," said Quin. Their voice was steady and as cold as iron on a winter morning.

"Who gave you permission to abandon training today? Where are you going?"

Quin widened their stance and balled their hands into fists. "I have a Quest."

"This is the first I've heard of it. Let's see the card." He held out his hand.

I shuffled forward, heart galloping like a panicked horse and knees shaking like they were made of water. "I have it." I pulled the card from my belt and handed it over.