"Um... Excuse me."
Keldric and the skeletons all jumped, spinning to face the sound. A young woman stood there, nervously clutching a worn coin purse. Plain brown hair in a practical ponytail. Simple, homespun robes of a novice acolyte. She looked utterly normal. Which, in Keldric's recent experience, made her the most terrifying thing he'd seen all day.
She took a hesitant step into the alley. "I… I'm sorry to intrude. I was at the market just now. I couldn't help but overhear… well, I saw your recruitment attempts." A faint blush coloured her cheeks. "It looked like you were having trouble finding a female member for your guild."
The skeletons all stared. Keldric's mind raced. Okay. She saw the slap. The whole embarrassing disaster. And she's still here. My [Isekai Intuition] is screaming. This is either a trap, a secret princess in disguise, or the goddess of this world taking pity on me. There's no other explanation.
He narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. "What's the catch?"
The woman, who introduced herself as Elara, looked startled. "Catch? Oh! No, no catch," she said, her hands fluttering nervously. "It's just… I have a problem, and it seems you have a problem, and… well, I thought perhaps our problems could solve each other."
She took a deep breath. "I'm a student of support magic. To advance, I need to buy registered spellbooks from 'Tomes and Scrolls'. But their policy, and the Mages' Guild policy, is that only official guild members can purchase sanctioned magical texts. They say it's to prevent powerful magic from falling into the wrong hands." She gestured vaguely towards them. "I need to be in a guild. You… you need a female human member to start one. So… I was thinking we could form a temporary alliance? A mutually beneficial partnership?"
Keldric stared at her. It was too perfect. A plot hook, gift-wrapped and delivered to his doorstep. Definitely suspicious.
"One moment," he said, holding up a hand. Turned and pulled the skeletons into a tight, chaotic huddle.
"Okay, what do we think?" whispering urgently.
"She seems nice, Mr. Hero!" Bones chirped. "And she didn't scream and run away! She must be a hero, too!"
"I dunno, bro," Chad muttered, sizing Elara up. "She looks like she skips leg day. Her stabiliser muscles are probably non-existent. Can we trust her in a fight?"
"Her proposal is logically sound," Specs conceded, adjusting his glasses. "Yet the probability of such a serendipitous encounter is a statistical anomaly. It warrants further investigation. She could be a corporate spy from the Gilded Crows, attempting to infiltrate our organisation."
"Her outfit is dreadfully plain, but the raw materials have potential," Strut mused. "A blank canvas. I could work with this. We'll need to do a full colour analysis and a complete wardrobe overhaul, of course."
"We're not talking about if we can style her, Strut," Keldric hissed. "The question is, do we trust her?"
Strut gave him a look of profound pity. "Darling, I know. And I don't trust people I can't style. Their aesthetic choices reflect their moral character. It's basic science."
Keldric just stared. "Um... okay..."
"See?" Linkin murmured from the shadows, his voice flat but with an unmistakable undercurrent of satisfaction. "I told you. We projected our tragic despair into the void... and the void provided a suitably desperate candidate. It works."
Keldric listened to the cascade of nonsense. They were desperate. They had no other options. And despite his paranoia, Elara's problem sounded genuine.
"Alright, we're doing it," he whispered. "Everyone be normal."
He turned back to Elara, trying to project an aura of a cool, competent leader. "Alright, Elara. You're in. Welcome to the—"
THUD!
Chad shoved him so hard he slammed into the alley wall, sliding down it slowly. Chad stepped forward, flexing a bicep at a bewildered Elara. "Hey there. The name's Chad. Welcome to the Swole Skulls."
Before Elara could react, Bones was suddenly right in front of her, jumping up and down with pure, unfiltered joy. "A new friend! This is great! We're going to be the best heroes ever! We'll fight monsters and save kingdoms and Mr. Hero is super strong and brave, you'll see!"
Elara just stared, her kind eyes wide with a mixture of shock and utter confusion.
Keldric peeled himself off the wall, his back aching. He dusted himself off, a new fire of determination in his eyes. He wasn't going to be upstaged again. "Alright, that's it!" he declared, Voice cutting through the chaos. "We have our new member! We are officially ready to register this guild!"
Bones and Chad let out a roar of excitement.
"LET'S GO!" Keldric yelled, pointing dramatically towards the Guild Hall.
The heavy oak doors of the Guild Hall didn't just open. They were slammed inwards with a resounding BOOM, crashing against the interior walls.
The chatter and music of the sprawling tavern hall died instantly. Dozens of grizzled mercenaries, nimble-looking rogues, and stoic mages all turned their heads in unison. A hundred pairs of eyes locked onto the entrance.
Silhouetted in the bright doorway stood Keldric and his bizarre entourage. The silence was absolute, thick with stunned confusion.
With Elara in tow, they marched through the now-silent hall, ignoring the bewildered stares, and came to a stop at the large reception desk at the far end.
The same bored receptionist looked up, her expression unchanging.
"We're back," Keldric announced, trying to sound as cool as their entrance looked. He gestured to Elara. "We have our female member."
The receptionist gave Elara a brief, evaluating glance, then sighed the long-suffering sigh of a career bureaucrat. "Fine. You meet the quota. Guild name?"
The skeletons all spoke at once. "The Justice Brigade!" "The Swole Skulls!" "The Velvet Order!" "The Synergistic Problem-Solving Collective!"
A moment of silence hung in the air before the arguments erupted.
"It has to be 'The Justice Brigade'!" Bones insisted, planting his tiny feet firmly. "Because we do justice! And we're a brigade!"
"No way, bro!" Chad shot back, flexing an arm. "'The Swole Skulls' is way cooler! It shows we're strong and not to be messed with!"
Strut looked at Chad with utter horror. "Darling, try to keep up. We're building a luxury brand, not a team of sweaty ogres. 'The Velvet Order' implies grace, exclusivity, and power. 'Swole Skulls' implies you have the fashion sense of a troll."
"All of your suggestions are fundamentally flawed by emotional bias and a lack of descriptive accuracy," Specs stated, pushing his glasses up his nasal cavity. "'The Synergistic Problem-Solving Collective' is the only logical choice as it precisely defines our operational methodology."
"'Syner-whatsit' sounds like a disease!" Chad retorted.
"'The Velvet Order' sounds like the secret society of villains from 'Captain Comet and the Moon Marauders'!" Bones chirped. "They were all stuffy and wore fancy robes and tried to take over the galaxy with their boring evil plans!"
"And 'The Justice Brigade' sounds like a children's cartoon!" Strut snapped back.
"NO, SWOLE SKULLS!"
"NO, JUSTICE BRIGADE!"
Keldric watched, horrified, as his potential guild devolved into a shouting match in the middle of the Guild Hall. Elara just stood beside him, clutching her coin purse, her eyes wide with the dawning realisation of what she had just signed up for.
As the argument escalated, the receptionist's eye began to twitch. "Just pick a name!" she snapped, slamming her hand on the desk.
"The Odd Jobs!" Keldric blurted out in a moment of pure, frustrated honesty.
A stunned silence fell over his companions. Even the receptionist paused, her stamp hovering over the ink pad. Then, in a wave of horrified disbelief, the skeletons all reacted.
"THE WHAT?!"
"Darling, I absolutely refuse to have my brand associated with something so... pedestrian," Strut declared, her voice dangerously low. "So dreadfully working-class. I quit."
"Bro! 'The Odd Jobs'?" Chad protested, against. "That sounds like a guild for, like, handymen! Not lifters! There's no gains in that name!"
"The name lacks gravitas," Specs sniffed, "and fails to accurately represent our potential operational scope."
"But... but it doesn't sound heroic at all, Mr. Hero!" Bones lamented, his voice full of disappointment.
"I panicked, okay!" Keldric yelled, his face burning. "She had a really big stamp! And you were all shouting!"
"I... I like it."
Everyone stopped, turning to Elara. She fidgeted with her coin purse, a shy smile on her face. "It sounds humble," she said softly. "And honest. It's a good name."
The skeletons stared at her, then back at Keldric, their arguments deflating in the face of her simple sincerity.
The receptionist, seizing the moment of quiet, didn't hesitate. STAMP! She pushed a freshly signed Guild Charter and a small stack of flimsy cards across the counter. "Congratulations. You're now the officially sanctioned F-Rank guild, 'The Odd Jobs'. Try not to get yourselves killed in the first week."
Keldric picked one of the guild cards up. The cardstock was thin, the edges were slightly frayed, and the name was printed in a simple, slightly smudged black font. It looked less like a license for adventure and more like a business card for a questionable plumbing service.
"What is this?" he muttered, his dream of a cool, embossed guild card dying a sad little death.
Just as he thought that, a shimmering blue window popped into existence, visible only to him.
GUILD SUCCESSFULLY CREATED!
Name: The Odd Jobs Rank: F Level: 1 XP:0/1000
Members (10): Keldric (Guild Master), Elara, Bones, Chad, Specs, Strut (Fifi), Linkin, Snap, Serve
Guild Shop: [LOCKED - Guild Level 2 Required]
Guild Perks: [LOCKED]
Keldric stared. Oh! Interesting! I wasn't expecting a full-blown guild management system. Okay, let's see... Level 1, Rank F. Standard. Makes sense, we're nobodies. He scanned the member list. Ten members? Wait... Elara, me, Bones, Chad, Specs, Strut, Linkin, Snap, Serve... that's nine. Fifi. The System counted Strut's tiny poodle as a founding member of the guild. OF COURSE, IT DID! WHY NOT?!
His eyes fell on the locked features. Ooooh, a Guild Shop. I wonder what it has. Rare items? Exclusive quests? Too bad it's locked. And Guild Perks... same deal. They really don't explain much, do they? Just dangle the good stuff in front of you.
"So. What now, Mr. Guild Master?" Bones asked cheerfully, oblivious to Keldric's internal systems analysis.
Keldric took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Our first mission as a guild," he announced, his voice regaining a sliver of purpose as he looked at Elara, "is to get our new member her book."
Keldric puffed out his chest, trying to project an aura of leadership. "Alright team! Let's go!"
He took three confident strides towards the Guild Hall's exit... and then stopped, slowly turning back to the group. A sheepish look crossed his face.
"...Does anyone actually know where the magic bookstore is?"
"I do," Elara said, clutching her new, flimsy guild card like a holy relic. Her voice full of purpose. "It's this way. Follow me."
She led the way with a newfound determination, leaving Keldric to trail behind his own party. They found "Tomes and Scrolls" wedged between a butcher and an apothecary. It was a tall, dusty building filled with the quiet, imposing silence of ancient knowledge, smelling of old paper.
As Elara's eyes lit up, scanning the shelves with reverence, the skeletons began to explore.
"Bro, look at this one!" Chad called out, holding up a heavy tome titled [The Theory of Muscular Thaumaturgy]. "It's a book about spellcasting for gains! Elara, you should get this one!"
"That is a satirical text on the folly of attempting to channel mana through brute force, you imbecile," Specs retorted, not looking up from [Advanced Arcanodynamics]. "Far too advanced for a novice like yourself, Elara. You should start with my recommendation: [A Foundational Treatise on Pre-Cataclysmic Runic Structures]."
"Mr. Hero, look!" Bones chirped, running up to Keldric with a brightly coloured book. The cover showed a ridiculously heroic-looking man with impossibly spiky hair, posing with a sword that was on fire for no apparent reason. The title, in bold, heroic font, read: [Unlocking Your Protagonist Potential: A Guide to Flashbacks, Power-Ups, and Friendship Speeches].
Keldric stared at the cover. He looked at the hero's impossibly perfect hair, the impractical flaming sword, and the title that sounded like a cheap self-help seminar. A wave of profound, intellectual revulsion washed over him.
[Unlocking Your Protagonist Potential]? Are you kidding me? A vein throbbing in his temple. It's an instruction manual on how to become a walking cliché. A get-rich-quick scheme for wannabe heroes who think a dramatic flashback is a substitute for actual skill. This isn't a magic tome; it's the fantasy equivalent of a pyramid scheme.
"This book has all the secrets to being a great hero!" Bones explained excitedly, shoving it into Keldric's hands. "We have to get it!"
Keldric took the book, flipped through a page detailing 'The Top Ten Poses for a Dramatic Power-Up Sequence', and handed it back with a world-weary sigh. "Bones, no. This book is garbage," he said, his voice flat. "It doesn't teach you how to be a hero; it teaches you how to look like one for an audience. We need Elara to have actual, useful magic, not a guide on how to deliver a friendship speech. Put it back."
His gaze drifted over the other nearby titles. [Re-animating Your Pet: A Guide for the Morally Flexible], [A Gastronomical Guide to Non-Lethal Slime Recipes], [Advanced Golemancy: The Art of Rock-Paper-Scissors]. I've seen my fair share of magic books in manga, but these are just... strange. Do none of them have a normal title?
"Darling, ignore them. They have no taste," Strut declared, judging the books purely by their covers. She pointed a dramatic finger to a book with a stunning, jewel-encrusted binding that shimmered under the dim light. "Look at this one! The aesthetic is simply divine! One must always choose presentation above all else."
Keldric looked over to read the elegant, gold-leaf title. [A Field Guide to Common Household Molds].
"Strut," Keldric said, his voice flat. "It's a book about mould."
"But the binding, darling. The presentation is everything," she insisted, not missing a beat. "One could use it as a statement piece on a coffee table."
"We don't have a coffee table," Keldric sighed. "Or a house. Or coffee."
As if on cue, Linkin silently offered Elara a thin, black book of poetry titled [Sonnets for the Soulless].
Elara, with a polite but firm smile, ignored all of their terrible suggestions, her eyes already locked on her prize. She found the book she needed on a high shelf: a thick, practical, leather-bound volume titled [Beginner's Guide to Buffs and Banes].
She carried it to the counter as if it were a sacred relic. The proprietor, a wizened old man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, peered at it. "Ah, a fine choice for any burgeoning support-caster. That will be fifty coppers. I'll need to see your Guild Card for verification before I can sell you a registered text, of course."
Elara proudly presented the flimsy, amateurish card. The old man squinted at it, grunted, and gave a curt nod. Elara took a deep breath. She untied the worn pouch she'd been clutching this whole time and poured its entire contents onto the counter. A small pile of copper and a few silver coins tumbled out.
The old man counted it slowly. "Fifty coppers. Exactly."
Elara clutched the book to her chest, her eyes shining with triumph. She had her key to a future of magical mastery. She had also just spent every last coin to her name. Keldric looked at the joy on her face, then remembered his own empty pockets.
Their new guild had accomplished its first goal. They were officially sanctioned adventurers with a brand-new, fully equipped support-caster.
They were also all completely, utterly broke. And now Elara, just like them, had nowhere to sleep.