Vol. 2 Ch. 30: Gregor's Acquaintances

Author's Note:

Recurring Characters:

Peter: The protagonist of this novel.

Mariah: Peter's mother. You can find her picture in Art collection.

Gregor: Mariah and Matteo's father. He first appeared in the chapter "Dream and the past". He's a former adventurer.
Branna: Appeared in chapter "Dream and the past".

Recap:
“I see. So, she’s back, huh? I should give your place a visit soon,” She nodded, smiling gently at Peter. Her gaze drifted back to Gregor. “What brings you here? Some herb quest you want to commission to the guild, like last time?”

…End of Author's Note...

...

Gregor chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t planning to, but since you’ve brought it up, sure. Make a repeat of the last commission. Will it be fine, Anya?”

“Why not? Or are you doubting my ability to remember what was in it?” Anya asked, already moving her hands to pull up a document.

“Never,” Gregor shook his head. “That said, I’d like to have a word with the guildmaster in private if she’s available.”

“She is,” Anya nodded, the quill in her hand moving elegantly to note down a couple of wild herbs and mushrooms on the parchment. She motioned toward a girl standing some distance behind her and whispered some instructions in her ear. The girl gave her a nod and disappeared into the back, outside of their vision.

“Anything else?” she asked, passing the parchment to another guild worker who took it and walked toward the east, likely to pin it on the bulletin board.

Gregor nodded toward Peter. “Registration. Having another form of identification brings no harm, even if he changes his mind later.”

Her eyes flicked to Peter, assessing him with added scrutiny, less like a child, more like a prospective adventurer. Peter stood straighter under her observation.

“He doesn’t look it…but I suppose you wouldn’t bring him here on a whim.”

“I did,” Gregor chucked. “Well…not completely. He has the potential for it…but I’m not sure if I want him to become one.” He scratched his beard. “He’s a dreamer…just like his mother. I already know what happens when you completely ignore their dreams.”

Anya’s expression softened a bit. She nodded, “It’s better to guide and let them make their own decisions.”

Just then, the girl returned and nodded at them.

“Well, you already know where her office is,” Anya said, gesturing toward the stairs to the side that can be accessed after walking behind the counter.  

Gregor turned to Peter, his hands resting on Peter’s shoulders. “I’ll be back soon. Anya will help with your registration. Will that be fine?” he asked.

Peter nodded. Gregor smiled and moved toward the stairs, leaving Peter behind with the receptionist, who leaned forward, a quill in hand and a new parchment under her elbows, which rested on the counter.

“Let’s start the questioning then,” Anya said, smiling softly. “Name.”

“Peter.”

Anya dipped her quill in the inkwell beside her and scribbled the name down with ease.

“Alright, Peter. Age?”

“Ten,” he replied.

She nodded and kept writing.

“Place of birth or last residence?”

“Simon Village.”

“Alright,” she said after a beat, shifting back into her work tone. “Next. Any previous guild affiliation, training, or combat experience?”

Peter shook his head. “No affiliations.”

“What about training or combat experience?”

“I trained with my dad. Mostly swordsmanship, and sometimes hunted horned rabbits in the forest nearby along with my friends.”

“Fair enough,” she said, jotting it down. “I hope you didn’t lie ‘cause you’ll be tested soon. Next, Class? You can choose not to answer it if you don’t feel comfortable about it, but making it public will help us find suitable jobs for you.”

“Umm…I’d like to keep it hidden.”

“Alright,” Anya nodded, her quill never stopping. “I’ve marked it as [Unlisted]. What’s your level?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Twen—” Anya paused mid-word, looking up. “Already?”

Peter gave a small, hesitant nod.

“Got it,” She lowered her head again. “Name whatever skills you feel comfortable sharing with the public.”

Peter listed them calmly. “Mana Sense, Swordmanship {Short-Sword}, Recovery {Physical}.”

“Good skills for a frontliner,” she said, a smirk on her face. She picked up the document and switched places with another guild worker, walked out of the counter, while motioning for Peter to move alongside her. “Follow me. The testing will happen in the back.”

Peter fell into step beside her. The casual chatter of the guild hall faded as they passed through a doorway and into a quieter corridor.

“What kind of testing?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

Anya glanced at him with a sideways smile. “A demonstration. In your case, a spar with a guild instructor, just to make sure that you can actually use the skills you’ve listed, and to what extent. It helps us prevent deaths among our associates. Just enough to confirm that you’re not biting more than what you can chew.”

“I’m not.”

“I didn’t think so,” she said, voice amused. “But rules are rules.”

They passed a few closed doors before arriving at one left slightly ajar. Anya pushed it open fully and stepped aside to let him enter.

Sunlight spilt through the open doorway. Peter stepped out into a spacious yard behind the guild hall. The yard was ringed by tall wooden walls and partially shaded by a few sparse trees. Training dummies lined one side, while a patch of worn ground in the centre marked a well-used sparring ring. The yard was empty for the moment, except for a single man leaning against one of the trees and smoking a cigar.

Anya frowned. “I told you not to smoke during work, Jacob.”

“I’d nothing to do, Anya,” Jacob said, shrugging his shoulder as he distanced himself from the tree. “Not that free anymore, it seems. What can I do for you?” he asked, his cigar extinguished, and his arms crossed.

“Test this young man’s swordmanship skill for me,” She said, pushing Peter to step forward.

“And who is this young man?” The man asked, walking to the side and putting two wooden swords out before throwing one toward Peter.

“Peter. Gregor’s grandson.” Anya said curtly, readying herself to take notes.

“Oh,” The man tilted his head in curiosity as Peter walked to step across him with the sword.

“Well, Peter,” he said, getting into a loose sword stance. “Let’s see if your hands match your paperwork. Begin whenever you feel like.”

Instead of rushing forward blindly, Peter lowered his head and focused on the sword in his hands first. The weapon was nicely balanced, crafted expertly.

He took the stance, legs firmly touching the ground, blade angled forward, his breath coming in a steady rhythm. He watched his opponent for a moment, trying to find some weakness, but found plenty. The man was either underestimating him, or it was all a trap. Regardless, Peter had no choice, and thus he lunged, putting caution to the side, mana seeping into the sword unrestricted.

The first clash was quick, barely eleven exchanges before they separated again. Based on the exchange, Peter could tell that the man was only slightly above him in stats, but vastly outclassed him in swordmanship. It didn’t matter. Peter wasn’t here to win. He just needed to show a certain level of expertise.

The spar continued for more than two dozen minutes before Jacob stepped back for the first time, raising her palm. “That’s enough.”

He sighed, his eyes holding surprise. “Better than expected.”

Anya clapped from the side. “That was a nice showing. Well done, Peter.”

Peter lowered the sword, chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands trembled faintly, but from adrenaline, not exhaustion.

Jacob rolled his shoulder once, then gave him an approving nod. “You’ve a very good foundation and a balanced technique. You’ll do fine, but whenever you feel a need to improve, feel free to visit me. That’s my job.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good,” Anya said, a soft smile on her face. “Let’s get your guild medallion, rookie.”

…

The guild doors closed shut behind them as Gregor and Peter walked out onto the street again. It was still crowded, the sun shining bright in the sky, casting small shadows.

Gregor looked to the side, watching as Peter fiddled with the iron medallion in his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Come on,” Gregor said, looking affectionately at him. “You can stare at it all you like once you’re in your room. Put it aside and focus on your surroundings.”

Peter nodded silently, following him with light steps as they walked away from the guild. The noise of street vendors and passing carts filled the quiet between them.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked after a bit of time had passed.

“You wanted to learn enchanting, right?”

Peter nodded.

“Well…I think I know a person who can teach it. We’re going to visit him now.”

They turned off the main road and onto a quieter lane, one where people wearing luxurious clothes walked, and high-end shops were present.

“He’s an old friend,” Gregor said, walking calmly. “So, he can be trusted to teach you.”

They turned another corner, the inn now some distance away, as the guild street’s bustle thinned even further. Ahead, tucked between a herbalist’s shop and a barber shop, stood a narrow two-storey building looking like an expensive café.

Gregor stopped in front of the door, gaze softening with something that almost resembled nostalgia.

“Is this... his workshop?” Peter asked, blinking at the elegant sign. “It looks like a café?”

“Just trust me,” Gregor smirked. He reached for the brass doorknob and pushed open the door. A soft chime rang overhead, clear and bright. Warm air and the scent quite like coffee drifted out to meet them.

Inside, the café looked exactly as it smelled: inviting and cosy. Chairs were scattered in neat order around round or square tables of various sizes. A large grandmother clock ticked and clicked against the far wall. The place was empty for the moment, making Peter wonder if it was even a profitable business.

Behind the counter, a woman sat on a chair, wearing a green apron and a bored expression, twirling her hair before her eyes spotted them both and widened. A grin grew on her face as she straightened.

“Gregor!” The woman exclaimed, voice smooth and filled with happiness. “Not enough business during Solace to keep you busy?”

Gregor chucked. “Is that how you greet your teacher, apprentice?”

“Oh, please,” The woman waved her hand like slapping a fly. “I’ve long graduated from being just an apprentice.”

“Something we both can agree on, Branna. Is your father available?” Gregor asked.

“Ah,” Branna sighed. “So it’s the father that you’ve business with. Well, come inside. Take a seat. I’ll bring him out,” she said, before walking away.

Both of them did as she suggested and took a seat at a random table, and hardly a few minutes must have passed before Branna returned with a man following behind her. He looked a decade older than Gregor, half bald from the front, and walked with a cane. He had a sour expression on his face as he approached their table.

“Gregor,” He said, almost like a grumble. “What do you want?” He sat down beside them. “Who’s the kid?”

“Well, Jason. This boy—he’s the solution,” Gregor said, patting Peter’s head.

“What do you mean?” Jason asked, frowning.

“You hold a grudge against me for years now,” Gregor said, “for taking your daughter as my apprentice when you wanted to have her inherit your profession.”  

“Damn right I do,” Jason said, grinding his teeth as he slammed his palm on the table.

“This is my grandson, Peter. Mariah’s child.”

“Mariah?” Branna said, her voice full of delight as she approached them, a tray in her hands filled with sweets and coffee. “She’s finally back? How long has it been?” She asked, taking a seat as well.

“Not long. You can meet her at the Inn,” Gregor remarked, giving her a glance and a nod of thanks for the offerings before looking back at Jason.

“What do you think? He wants to learn enchanting. That’s a skill you know very well. Take him as an apprentice and we’ll be even.”

Jason turned his gaze toward Peter, his eyes narrowed, his hand rubbing his chin. “Just because he wants to learn something doesn’t mean he can. He needs to have at least an appropriate class and ability to understand runic language.”

“Don’t worry about the class,” Gregor said, shaking his head. “As for his understanding, you can test it for yourself. If it works out, it works out; otherwise, you can stop.”

“Alright. A week should be sufficient to tell that.”

…End of chapter…