Get up, up, up, up, you lazy, big-muscled pig!" Aylin yelled, standing triumphantly on top of Harkin's chest.
"Five more minut—" Harkin groaned, but the words froze in his throat—literally.
A sudden blast of cold exploded over his body.
"That's what you get, you lazy loser!" Aylin cackled, holding an empty bucket and flashing a wicked grin.
Freezing water soaked Harkin's shirt and dripped onto the floor. He sat up with a shiver, glaring at her through drenched hair.
"What the—?" Barek stepped into the room, eyebrows raised at the soaked floor and the drenched lump that was Harkin.
He took one look at Aylin grinning with an empty bucket and burst out laughing.
"Looks like you've got your own personal wake-up call, don't you?" he said, smirking at Harkin.
Then he muttered under his breath, "These sheets are going to need washing now."
He turned back to Harkin. "Anyway, didn't you say you wanted to test yourself somewhere?"
Harkin gave a reluctant nod, still dripping but now standing.
"Good. Go get washed and dressed. We'll head out after."
Then Barek shifted his gaze to Aylin, mock glaring. "And you, little pest—get these sheets cleaned and dried. And make sure our guest over there has some fresh clothes ready for after his, hopefully, warmer water experience than this one."
Aylin gave a mock salute. "Aye aye, Captain."
Harkin sighed as he shuffled toward the washroom. "One of these days," he grumbled, "I'm filling your boots with lava."
"Keep dreaming," Aylin shot back.
Harkin stepped out of the steaming washroom, the heat still clinging to his skin. The torch mounted on the wall cast a golden glow across the room, flickering gently as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
He leaned in closer, frowning slightly.
A few fresh scars marked his torso—narrow, pale lines that hadn't been there before his scuffle with Lettuce. They were faint, but still visible. It seemed the regeneration granted by the Wolf Rune had its limits after all.
He exhaled slowly, then turned to see a neatly folded pile of clothes set out on the bed. Clean, warm, and arranged with care.
"Aylin," he muttered under his breath with a smirk. As much as she seemed determined to pester him at every turn, she followed through with orders perfectly—perhaps a little too perfectly.
Harkin got dressed and made his way to the main room.
Barek was adjusting the straps on a leather satchel, checking over its contents one last time. Aylin was near the table, giggling while tossing a scrap of cloth into the air as Coco leapt to catch it mid-pounce, tail twitching with excitement.
"You ready, then?" Barek asked, not looking up as he tightened a buckle.
Harkin nodded, rolling his shoulders.
"Yeah. Let's head out."
"So where are we going?" Harkin asked.
"It's a small place where most of the top units from the three main guilds from here go to train." Barek answered.
Harkin could already see this place was the real deal.
They had come to what appeared more like a grand estate than anything else—a sprawling stone manor carved into the cliffside, with towering spires stretching toward the clouds and bustling terraces alive with activity. A steady stream of people flowed in and out of its immense doors, some heading in, others coming out in tight-knit groups, all chattering with purpose.
What caught Harkin's eye most, though, were the robes.
There were three distinct colours among the crowd, each marked with unique emblems stitched over the chest. One group wore vivid orange robes, their symbols shaped like a rising hammerhead sunburst. Another wore sea-colored garb, turquoise with silver linings, their emblems depicting a trident entangled with branches. The last group bore dark blue cloaks with silver trim, marked with an open book behind a poised dagger.
"Those," Barek said, nodding toward the groups, "are the Three Great Guilds of Craigspine Court. And not just the Court—those three are the backbone of Craigspine proper. Bigger, stronger, better funded and better organized than the Crimson Antlers from Glaivehall—no offense to them, of course."
Harkin gave a slow nod, watching the guild members interact with a mix of discipline and ease.
Barek pointed toward the dark blue-cloaked group. "That's the Guild of Vellum and Steel. Scholars and blades alike. They're all about finding new knowledge alongside the usual guild hunting's. "Their called the Thinker Guild for a reason." He gestured to the turquoise group next. "Those are from He gestured to the turquoise group next. "Those are the Wardens of Moiseion. Defense specialists.
"Now that's a guild I do know," Harkin said. "That's the guild formed during Moiseion's time, his very own squad, wasn't it?" Barek nodded.
"Aye."
"And those over there in the orange are the court's own guild, The Ember Crown."
"So, what guild were you a part of as a Shieldbearer?" Harkin asked.
Barek laughed again. "Shieldbearers aren't part of guilds. We're specifically contracted as the militia of Craigspine or any other city-states themselves."
Aylin was already growing restless.
"Is there anything fun to do here?" she groaned loudly, arms flailing dramatically as she leaned against a nearby pillar.
A few nearby guild members glanced over, but one man in particular turned with a raised eyebrow. He was young-looking, with flowing brown hair and sharp, honey-badger eyes that gave him an air of mischief wrapped in wisdom. His dark blue robes marked him clearly as a member of the Guild of Vellum, and he carried himself with calm confidence.
"Well now," he said as he approached, a smile tugging at his lips, "who's this bold soul calling The Meetingway Estate boring?"
He stopped in front of them, giving a polite bow. "Senior Barek."
Barek looked a little flustered. "Ameian, there's no need for all the formalities," he muttered, waving a hand embarrassed.
Aylin's eyes lit up. "Ameian!" she repeated excitedly, practically bouncing in place.
Ameian chuckled and reached out to ruffle her blonde hair. "And how's my future apprentice doing? Brewing the world's worst cider yet, or have you finally moved on to drinkable?"
Aylin stuck her tongue out at him, clearly not offended in the slightest.
Harkin observed the exchange in silence, arms folded—feeling, for a brief moment, like an awkward third wheel. Then, without much thought, he spoke.
"So you're the one who planted the brewery dreams in her head?"
Ameian looked up at him, amused. "I suppose I am," he said with a grin. "And you are?"
"Harkin," he said, extending his hand for a shake.
"Ameian," he responded, grasping the offered hand and shaking it firmly.
"So, Barek, what brings you here?" Ameian asked, arms casually folded. "Weren't you supposed to be enjoying retirement by now?"
Barek laughed. "And what happened to all that respect, huh?" he said, feigning offense. "Calling me old already?"
Ameian smirked. "I only speak the truth."
"Relax, I'm not here to sign up again," Barek said, gesturing toward Harkin. "I'm here for him."
Ameian's eyes shifted to Harkin with new interest.
"He wants to challenge himself against the best," Barek went on. "He's got a rune now—one of the rare ones, as far as I can tell. Definitely not your typical blessing."
Ameian nodded thoughtfully. "In that case, the Ember Crown is currently conducting a mock training drill. Perfect timing. They're the most combat-oriented of the three guilds. If he's looking for a proper challenge, that's the place to go."
He turned to Aylin, extending a hand. "I'll keep this one entertained while you two handle your manly duties."
Aylin beamed with excitement. "Finally! Someone who truly values real science."
She stuck her tongue out at Harkin as she took Ameian's hand and skipped off alongside him.
Harkin watched her leave, then turned to Barek. "So… who is he exactly?"
Barek let out a sigh, his tone carrying a hint of reluctant fondness. "One of my old students. Brilliant mind, but always too curious for his own good. He's the one who filled Aylin's head with all those brewing dreams and potion ideas."
Harkin arched an eyebrow. "He doesn't seem all that strong."
"Don't let his appearance fool you," Barek replied with a smirk. "Ameian's tougher than he looks. Underestimate him, and you'll end up flat on your back, wondering what hit you."
Harkin and Barek made their way to the far side of the courtyard. The sound of metal clashing and boots thudding echoed through the crisp air. Dozens of rugged individuals dressed in vibrant orange attire were busy preparing for the upcoming drill—stretching, sharpening weapons, checking armor. Every one of them looked seasoned and battle-hardened.
As they approached, one of the guild members turned, noticing them. His expression changed the moment he recognized Barek.
"Senior," he greeted respectfully with a nod, then turned his gaze to Harkin. "And who's this?"
"We're here because this young man wants to test his strength," Barek said casually, clapping Harkin on the back. "Thought there'd be no better place than the Ember Crown."
Harkin's eyes widened. Wait, I never said I wanted to take on the entire guild, he thought, opening his mouth to explain—only to be interrupted by the sudden shift in the man's demeanor.
"Oh? Got a cocky one, then, do we?" the man said, squaring his shoulders and raising an eyebrow.
A few more members glanced over, intrigued by the commotion. Murmurs rippled through the group as more figures closed in, scrutinizing Harkin. A couple of them laughed, one cracking his knuckles while another rested casually on his blade.
Harkin shot a nervous glance at Barek. "I-I didn't mean to—"
Barek's smirk widened. "Too late for that now, lad."
The first man took a step closer, his voice turning icy. "Alright. If you're that desperate to prove yourself, choose anyone here. You'll get your shot—just don't think we'll go easy on you."
The crowd's mood shifted from curiosity to quiet hostility. This wasn't just a drill anymore.