“What we’re looking for is very simple.” The graying Ranger said as he paced along the line of hopefuls. Well-worn leather armor barely creaked as he looked at each one of the young men and women who had gathered outside the Weary Wayfarer Tavern. “Strength, stamina, and a basic grasp of the fundamentals of our craft. The Honorable Guild of Vagabonds and Wayfarers have a very important and thankless job. It is not one that everyone is suited for.”

Corwin felt that the Ranger had stopped that moment in front of him to make a point. He shifted awkwardly in the line. No one had told him that adventurers trained for years before presenting themselves to Masters. He thought you just showed up and did the dangerous and dirty work of a Wayfarer because no one else wanted to do it.

The others in line were kitted out in well-crafted armor, he wore the clothes he had left home in. Corwin hadn’t had time to pack, Jack had met him at the door and told him to leave and never come back while his sisters had stared from where they had clustered around their weeping mother.

The other hopefuls had swords, maces, bows, all he had was the notched dagger stuck through his belt. When he’d approached, Corwin had thought that they had been the Guild Masters or at least Journeymen. The stares of disbelief and muffled sniggers told him how wrong he was. Now he felt awkward and out of place and just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Three Masters had come into the yard: a tall steely-eyed Ranger whose graying beard and temples gave him a hard, yet wise countenance. He was followed by a woman in plate and chain, a well-worn sword hilt rising over one shoulder, her flaming red hair cropped short. Last came the only non-human, a halfling who only came up to the warrior woman’s waist, he wore soft leathers and didn’t seem to carry any visible weapons.

“Now we’ve got a very busy day ahead of us, and we’d rather get this done as quickly as possible.” The Ranger growled, his eyes flicking to each of them in turn, appraising. “Please do not waste our time if you are not sure that you’re ready to take on this challenge.”

Corwin bit his lip, the three Masters were noticeably not looking at him, but he felt the weight of the Ranger’s words, nonetheless.

A silence descended on the courtyard, as though they were waiting on something. It was broken by a loud belch from the doorway. All eyes turned to see a dwarf scratching himself and hefting a flagon to his lips. He paused, noticing the glares from the three Masters. “Don’t mind me, just came out to see what the fuss was about. Carry on with your test…thing.”

The Ranger closed his eyes briefly, like he was counting to ten or reciting some prayer to himself. When he opened them again he gestured to the group. “Red, you’re up first.”

The warrior woman stepped forward, grinning and displaying a row of crooked teeth. “All right, my lovelies. I’m a warrior, which means I beat the shit out of things for a living. My apprentice needs to be able to do the same.” She drew a line in the dirt with her heel. “I’m gonna stand here, and you’re going to try and move me. Who’s first?”

Everyone exchanged glances. The woman wasn’t tall, she didn’t seem especially well-muscled, but that was hard to tell considering the armor she wore. Her confidence was, in a word, unnerving. Finally, a young man stepped forward. He was tall, strapping, and looked like he had spent some time as a blacksmith’s apprentice from the definition of his arms and chest.

The woman grinned. “C’mon, love, don’t be shy.”

The youth snorted and strode forward, lunging at the armored woman. He crashed into her, slamming his shoulder against her breastplate and digging his feet into the soft earth. With a grunt of effort, he pushed with all his might, muscles straining.

The woman giggled.

The youth looked up in surprise. She hadn’t moved an inch. Almost gently, she placed her hands on the boy’s shoulders and pushed back. The look of shock on his face was almost comical as his planted feet dug furrows in the dirt as the woman easily moved him backwards.

Then she let him go and returned to her place behind the line. “Thirteen, maybe fourteen if he pushed himself.”

The Ranger nodded and marked something in a small notebook.

“Next!” The warrior barked.

A girl strode forward, purposefully. She stopped in front of Red, looking her square in the eye. There was a pause and Corwin wondered what she was waiting for.

“Logan Lackhand sends his regards.” She said and punched her with a strong right across her chin.

Red’s head rocked back, but otherwise she didn’t move. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to face the girl, a wide bloody grin plastered across her face. “Sixteen! And how the hell is old Logie?”

The girl smiled back. “Retired, runs the lodge in Satterfeld.”

Red spat a bloody gob into the dirt. “He’s doing good work if you’re anything to judge by.”

“He had me lugging a sword and board from the first day I walked in.” The girl laughed.

“I bet he did. But if you’re gonna travel with me I want you training two-handers, I’ve got a reputation to protect.” Red said, turning to the Ranger. “I’ll take this one.”

The Ranger shrugged and made another note.

“Wait!” Corwin spluttered. “What about the rest of us?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“What about you?” The Warrior said, confused.

“Don’t we get tested?” Corwin asked.

“I could throw your ass in the dirt if you want, but it wouldn’t change my opinion. You’re a nine at best kid.” Red said, a little apologetically.

The dwarf by the door snorted a laugh into his tankard.

“You got a comment, shorty?” The Warrior barked, craning her head to look at him.

The dwarf waved her off. “Nope, you do you, Red.”

“The Master defines the parameters of the test, and also when they are done with said test.” The Ranger said, making more notes in his little book. He looked up and met Corwin’s eye. “Your lodge should have taught you this.”

More snickers from the other hopefuls. Corwin felt heat rise in his cheeks. Maybe this was a dumb idea after all.

“Alforth, you’re up next.” The Ranger nodded to the halfling.

The small man grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet, springing forward in a burst of eager energy. “Good morning to you all! My name is Alforth Brambleburr, and my specialty is as a Delver—”

“A what?” The dwarf called from the door.

“A Delver!” Alforth snapped back. “Dungeon diving, exploring, procuring ancient relics, that sort of thing.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” The dwarf grumbled. “We used to just call a Thief a Thief.”

“The job is more technical than that.” The halfling said with a dramatic eyeroll. “Which brings me to my point, to be my apprentice you must be quick! Sharp! Light on your feet! So, which shall we test first? Hmmm which is it going to be? Which which which which…?”

He strolled down the line of hopefuls with a wicked gleam in his eye. Corwin felt a surge of hope when the halfling stopped in front of him, but his heart sank as he saw the mocking look on the little man’s face.

“Let’s get this bit over with, shall we?” Alforth sighed. “All right, farmboy, give me your best shot.”

Corwin blinked, confused. “What?”

“He wants you to hit him.” The dwarf called.

“Yes, farmboy.” Alforth said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Hit me if you can. And a little less chatter from the cheap seats!”

Corwin licked his lips and brought his fists up, eliciting a chorus of muffled laughter. The halfling stood, waiting, obviously unimpressed. Corwin felt anger bubbling up inside him. If they didn’t think he was worthy, why were they letting him try? It was cruel, and he’d had enough cruelty to last a good long while. If they were going to laugh at him then he was going to at least make a good show of it.

He hadn’t been the best fighter in Durron’s Ford, his hometown, but he’d held his own in the occasional tavern brawl. That had been what had drawn Nyx’s eye in the first place. The kind of person the Shadow Foxes had been looking for. Corwin had learned a few things from Nyx. He set his jaw and pulled back his left fist, watching Alforth’s eyes. The halfling looked at him, eyes unwavering as Corwin stepped in and threw a sloppy jab.

The Delver sidestepped contemptuously, then staggered back as Corwin stepped through the punch and followed up with a hammer fist right hand just at waist height, where Alforth had been standing a moment before. The strike cut through empty air, but it earned a frown from Alforth and a cocked eyebrow from the Ranger.

“Eleven, maybe twel—” The halfling started but danced back as Corwin’s foot swept around trying to catch him across the ankles. “Hey! Watch it farmboy!”

“You didn’t say we were done.” Corwin said, still in a fighter’s crouch.

“We’re done, farmboy.” Alforth spat, testily. “Get back in the line.”

Corwin walked back to his place. He felt like he’d done something unexpected and that the Masters hadn’t liked it. But they’d approved when the girl with the shield had punched the redheaded Warrior, hadn’t they?

Irritated looks followed him as he walked back, but they were the last looks he got that morning. Red ignored the rest of the hopefuls, engrossed in quiet conversation with her new apprentice. Alforth dodged several other, less clumsy, punches. Then he produced knives from seemingly nowhere and had two slender youths take turns throwing them at a target on the stable wall. After some consideration the halfling chose one of them, a young man with a pale complexion and long, spider-like fingers.

“I’ve got some exercises to improve fine motor control. You’re going to need it where we’re going, lots of traps in some of the older Malconian ruins.” Alforth said with a smirk. “Hope you like fortune and glory, kid, because that’s my expertise!”

The thin boy grinned widely. “Can’t wait, sir!”

The halfling and his apprentice moved to stand next to the Warrior and hers. Now only three hopefuls stood in line: Corwin, the blacksmith boy, and a wiry girl with a pair of short swords on her hips.

Only the Ranger was left to make his pick. He finished making some notes and returned his little book to one of his belt pouches. The Ranger turned his focus to the line and jabbed his finger out twice, once at the blacksmith boy, and the second time at the wiry girl. “You, and you.” The Ranger then turned a casually dismissive eye to Corwin. “Better luck next time.”

“That’s it?” Corwin asked, incredulous.

“I told you when we began not to waste our time.” The Ranger said, voice hard. “Protecting the Realm is serious business, and neither I, nor my colleagues have time to train a green apprentice with no inborn skill.”

“I thought that the Wayfarers needed people.” Corwin protested. “That you were always recruiting. I know the risks! I know it’s dangerous!”

“We need the right people.” Alforth drawled.

“You need either a Talent or at least a year’s training with a lodge to really be in the running to be an apprentice.” Red said, sounding embarrassed for him.

“There’s a lodge in Sothsford that’s taking on new students. The tuition is quite reasonable.” The Ranger said, gathering his new apprentices.

“You have to pay to become an adventurer?” Corwin asked, incredulous.

“Oh, no, you can always drop down into a dungeon yourself. But you’ll get yourself killed pretty quick, plus even if you survive you don’t get Guild bounties.” The halfling shrugged.

“This is basic stuff, kid.” The warrior’s apprentice said, scornfully.

“Seriously, how did you not know this?” Said the blacksmith’s boy.

The hopefuls, now apprentices, shared a laugh at Corwin’s expense then followed their Masters back into the inn. Corwin leaned against one of the stone walls of the courtyard and slowly sank to the ground. He needed to join the Wayfarers. Becoming an adventurer was one of the few options left to him.

He rubbed self-consciously at the bandage on his wrist. The brand beneath itched and throbbed. The Wayfarers weren’t supposed to care where you came from. Risking your life against monsters and traps and things was supposed to supersede any problems you may have had in your past. Adventuring was supposed to give you a new life, if you survived.

Corwin supposed he could try his luck at the lodge in Sothsford, but that would mean taking the road near Durron’s Ford and the local knights had been pretty serious about what would happen should he decide to return. Not to mention to possibility of seeing Jack, or his mother, or his sisters. Shame welled up again and he forced it back down. He had done what he’d done for them…mostly.

The pouch where he kept his money made no sound as he drew it out. Digging around inside he found a single silver crown. That’d buy him a meal, maybe, or a drink. He stared at it and sighed. “So much for fortune and glory.”

A shadow fell over Corwin as he considered his future. “Giving up that quick, huh?” Corwin looked up to see the dwarf standing over him, twirling an empty tankard on one finger. “I mean that’s what they expect.” He nodded towards the Inn where the others had gone. “Give up and head back to whatever one-horse town you came from. That’s what I’d do if I had any other options, adventuring is a shit life, take my word for it.”

Corwin stared up at the dwarf with a weary expression. “Do you think I’d be here if I had any other options?”

The dwarf glanced at the bandage on Corwin’s wrist and snorted. “Guess not.” He blew out his mustaches and lifted his tankard, then frowned when he remembered it was empty. “Tell you what, why don’t you buy me a drink, and you can tell me all your troubles?”

“Are you serious?” Corwin spluttered. “This is all I’ve got left!”

“You can buy me a drink.” The dwarf said with weary annoyance. “Or you can head home. I’m guessing you’d rather not head home.”

Corwin sighed and shuffled to his feet. “That’s not much of a choice, y’know.”

“Wasn’t meant to be, it was meant to get you to buy me a drink.”

Corwin considered his options. “I’ll buy a flagon and we’ll split it.”

“That’s thinking like an adventurer.” A wide smile split the dwarf’s bearded face and he stuck out a callused hand. “Jabez Ironbiter.”

“Ironbiter?” Corwin asked, shaking the dwarf’s hand.

“Got a problem with that?” Jabez asked, face darkening.

“No, no problem. It’s just…unusual, that’s all.” Corwin said, hastily. “I’m Corwin Walker.”

“Uh huh.” Jabez grunted. “Let’s get that drink, Corwin Walker, before I change my mind.”