Chane stared out the window of the dingy room she couldn't afford. Outside the sunrise was cracking the sky with a brilliant yellow. The bright glow of the sun surprised her sensitive eyes, and she turned away. She had arrived late and slept awfully, which made for an unfortunate elixir of heaviness. In all honesty, she wished that it was easier for her to fall asleep, but the night was never dark enough, and every creak of the floorboards jolted her awake. 

The town’s tiny denizens were just beginning to wake up and tool around, and Chane moved away from the window and closed the drapes. She had an appointment at 9:00, and from the sun’s position, she figured maybe she had a couple of hours. For a moment she considered taking a quick nap or (more likely) just closing her eyes: they felt like they were melting. 

She wondered if the light would help to give her the safety she needed to delude herself into falling asleep. It would be a bit of a gamble whether she would wake up on time but at this time the pain of keeping her eyes open was all she could think about. She went to sleep dressed, so that, in the worst-case scenario, she would be ready to leave at a moment's notice and time could be allocated towards casting the illusion spell. 

Stumbling, Chane picked up her father’s sword and flopped on the bed, closing her eyes without conscious intent. Once her head hit the stiff pillow, relief flooded her senses and finally, she was able to enter her trance. 

She lay without dreams for a time, enjoying the silence and the peace. For a while, everything was quiet and Chane was still.

Then, with a start, she sat up, breathing in gasps. Another nightmare had flashed in her mind, jolting her back to consciousness, and she woke up covered in sweat, gripping her blade. Her left arm stung with a familiar burning sensation. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to stabilize her irregular gasps for air. The light of the day was even brighter now, and she guessed that she had slept for an hour at most. It was nowhere near eight hours, but it was enough to keep her upright. She figured she could use the extra time to clean up without losing any time on the disguise spell.

It had been many days since she had washed, with soap anyway, and she figured that her stench could slay a foe much quicker than her longsword could. The room fee included access to the league bathhouse, but using a public resource like that would force her to change her appearance, wasting one of her precious spell scrolls. At this point, all she could do was try and cover up the stench with simple magic and hope that people were polite. All the room had regarding personal management was a sink and a long mirror- a horrible invention whose gaze she had been avoiding since she had arrived. 

 Not willing to waste any of her hour disguised, Chane waited, fiddling with her sword in her hands. To most, her sword was ugly and unorthodox. It was crafted out of rock, with an edge so knicked it looked like an old relic. Two cut-outs in the shape of rhombi were embedded within the thickest area of the damaged blade, holding sharp hovering projectiles within them, suspended by magic. A rough cloth wrapped around the grip as a sort of handle, giving the sword a quite primitive look. She could not justify her belief that the sword was beautiful in any objective way, but it was the only thing that she had ever considered hers.

Flinching at the sound, she heard a barrage of footfalls passing by her room. She assumed that her time had just about come. Heading over to her backpack, she dug through hard foodstuffs and camping supplies until her hand brushed one of the scrolls. In a rush, she pulled it out and started reading the arcane symbols. The spell was a success, and before heading out the door, she considered her handiwork. The mirror portrayed a brown-haired elf with tired eyes. Her body was still too thin, but she could pass. Sighing, she walked out of the door with her precious blade. If this didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what she could do. Those scrolls and her identification had nearly emptied her coin pouch.

Opening the door, she was welcomed by an empty hallway, lit by the morning light. Glancing at the wooden floor to shield her eyes, she caught sight of a small arachnid crawling across the threshold of her dusty room. Clenching her jaw, she moved her foot to crush it before slinking away.

Chane headed down the stairway, following the small crowd of people who she could only assume were heading to the league’s headquarters. All she could think about was the coming appointment, a preoccupation she believed many in the crowd were also burdened with. 

The headquarters was huge, the second biggest building in town after the Main Hall. Long and high, she couldn’t understand what was inside that could manage to fill all the open space. Even their “Adventurer Inn” was a wholly different building, itself also huge. 

She made her way unnoticed through the thick wooden doors and was met by hundreds of people in one huge tavern space. Groups of heavily armed individuals talked and laughed together around tables spread around the huge room. On the far left, a long bar with multiple tenders was already busy, and scents of fatty breakfast cooking flooded from doors behind them. On the right, opposite the bar, a thirty-foot platform sat empty, its perimeter was outlined by a yellow square. The noise made it hard for her to think. 

Chane stood, overwhelmed, for a bit. It occurred to her that her mouth might be open, but she just wanted to stare. The ceiling was high, with what looked like landings build in for people to stare down into the large space. A huge glass ceiling worked as a magnificent illuminant, allowing natural light to cascade down into the open room. To her right, a large staircase hugged the side of the building, leading to even more levels of excess. Everything was beautiful, large trophies and tapestries hung around the whole room, colorful and vibrant. It was all just a bit too much. 

All the gawking she was doing left her standing alone, and not sure where to go. She looked at the time, and at seven minutes until it was supposed to start, she was left trying to figure out how to waste the time. She felt out of place just sitting alone, but she didn’t have the money to buy food. Her stomach began to list its demands, and her mouth watered as her nose remembered the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. For a moment, she pondered entering into the favor of someone with money in the vain hope they might accidentally commit charity. 

With a mix of nervousness and an angry stomach, Chane headed to a nearly empty nook in the northeast corner of the room. Navigating through occupied tables, she did her best not to look at any of the tavern’s customers, there was no need to. It was obvious that they were all giving her strange looks, which sort of made sense. Her clothes were damaged, old-looking, and dark. Her ragged cloak gave her the chilling appearance of an old shadow. The old armor she had on was rough and pretty uncomfortable, sporting sharp ridges and spikes all over. It was one of the many things that made it difficult for her to sleep. 

The nook wasn’t empty, but that was fine. A fully armored knight sat in the corner crease, with one steel leg crossed over the other in an attempt to be casual. Chane decided that he was no threat, so she sat at the left edge of the nook, as far from him as possible. 

For a sweet moment, there was silence. Then, with the charm of old swords being rubbed slowly against granite, the knight spoke. 

“So. You’re new to town, aren’t you.”

She only side-eyed him. His helm covered his entire face, leaving only a shadow underneath. His voice was deep and gruff sounding, with not even a hint of charisma. 

“Most people don’t come to this corner. They would rather speak meaningless words with each other.”

This time, she decided to continue staring straight forward. Maybe he would get it.

“I sit here to watch. I’m a watcher. I learn. I’m a learner. Here, I learn stuff about all of these people. Scan their weaknesses. You never know who might try and kill you. That’s why I’m here. It’s in the shadows that I find my strength.”

It was now quite obvious why this nook was empty. 

With the subtlety that only the sound of scraping metal could achieve, the man slid over to her. “You see that elf, sitting there?” He pointed over to a well-dressed walnut-skinned woman sitting at a table with two others. “She’s lactose intolerant,” The knight pulled out a small vial of white liquid “If she comes in here and tries to mess with me, I’ll be ready, I’ll have to be.” 

Looking side to side, the knight made a clumsy attempt to juggle the vial back into his satchel. “It’s a hound-eat-hound world here. The people who have the information survive. That’s me. I’m a survivor.” 

She stared at the large clock over the bar. Two more minutes until nine.

“I wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I trusted people. I accepted people for what was on the outside, never looked deeper to what was on the inside.”

He paused as if recalling something painful. Chane took a shaky breath of restraint and watched the second-hand tick.

“That’s when I discovered that I wasn’t who I thought I was. My father wasn’t actually my father. I was lied to. I wondered if others were hiding things and my whole outlook on life changed. I was only 4 years old.” 

Metal cranked and squeaked as the knight shifted back in his seat. “That’s how fast things can change.” He made a sort of snapping motion with his fully armored hand, which sounded like nothing.

“Mmhmm.”

The knight didn’t hear her, probably because of the thick steel helmet he was wearing. It didn’t really matter, either way, he was an idiot. It wasn’t worth listening to anymore. The second hand was almost done with its last rotation and a tall blue-haired, blue-skinned man began heading toward the huge square platform. He was wearing elaborate and decorated clothes and a flowing red cape frilled with fur. His walk was delicate and proud and there was a skip in his step, and everyone he passed suddenly became quiet. Eventually, he reached the podium and thrust his hands out elegantly coinciding with all the lights in the hall suddenly dimming to where only a thick cylinder of light illuminated the creature. It was about to begin. 

“Adventurers!” His voice thundered through the house, shaking the ground beneath. His hair whipped around violently adding to the flair of his appearance. “It’s ADMISSION DAY!”