The Adventurer School and Guild

Michael rode behind the first few open carriages carrying the new students and their parents...or at least wards. Many were orphans, or had people who were stand ins for parents...be they family, friends of family, wards, or concerned persons. Michael did not fail to note many of the youngsters, bordering on the cusp of the teenage years and adulthood, were not easy to care for... energetic, inquisitive, troublesome. Many of them felt restless or that they needed to find their place in life. In other words, Michael thought with a tiny smile, excellent candidates to grow up to become adventurers. It could be a lonely life after all, and even when it wasn’t it took a mindset very different from your average city-dweller. Michael fondly recalled as an old friend had put it once... a cleric of the Laughing God. “Hey! I know! I can’t keep city laws either, so lets go camping for the next 10 years, and have fun doing activities like slaughters horrors normal people would mess themselves over! It’ll be fun!” Michael still chuckled at the black humor of it. Not untrue though.

As they approached, he mused that the school was rather beautiful even at distance.. his workers had done some amazing things. The route they took went right into King’s Landing.. and thus to the Sea, so it would be easy to get from here to adventures and back. Important since a large portion of the building was given over to a guild or club where such travelling adventurers could rest and restock, seek out new opportunities. That it also kept a steady flow of magic items, lost treasures, gems, and news flowing directly into Michael’s lands and hands... well, that was just a tidy side effect. For the good of the country and all.

The building itself looked like a vast manor house... a central hall and two wings, giving it a vague horseshoe shape. It had a stone wall and towers to give privacy and protection on both sides. There were smaller homes beyond that for guest instructors and full term staff... Michael would have to rely greatly upon the Guildmaster to act almost as a minor Manor owner in a very real sense... this place took up almost as many demands and resources as his own home, maybe more! Horsemanship training areas... archery... magic... magic weapon discharge....weapons training...armor and running...herb lore.. a whole section of woods for training in rope climbing, tree climbing, field-craft... At least people would be in top physical condition. Hidden halls and passageways, lessons in traps... large workshop buildings to build such in... locks, forges... the support alone bordered upon another small town. Michael had heard it referred to collectively as the “Cradle of Discovery” by some instructors, as it was a town dedicated to making people who would go out and adventure to discover new things and ancient secrets. It was apt, but Michael thought it would likely need a proper town name as well. Something that promoted both a feeling of home and safety, a place to return to.. and a sense of exploration, the spirit of adventure. He’d think on it.

The children crew restless as the approached the walls. They were strong and defensive, far from any convenient trees, vines or the like. They would have to earn any attempts they made to sneak out, but they’d be safe. At least from any activities outside agents may attempt. The walls did borrow from an old Roman technique to beautify them though, a thin middle of stone sandwiched between brick so that they could cut in holes and posts to place marble against them. It gave the illusion that the wall was made of solid marble... normally white, but Michael had found a slightly colored variety, giving the walls a kind of light brown color. Michael thought it made them look warmer than ancient stone, but still had debated painting something upon it. The gates pulled open, into the main courtyard of the manor’s lands. There was a large and generous stable and carriage house so transport would be kept in excellent condition, the horses cared for. There were paths of beaten earth from several places to the stairs of the manor, all merging around a circle that held a statue, a youthful man and woman both in adventurers attire looking out towards the way they came in from the ocean. The young man bore a shield with the rampant stag of Solurius upon it, and the young woman had the same on her bag and cloak as she looked out of a spyglass. It filled Michael with pride to see the fine bronze statue, and how some of the adults looked at it, seeing their charges as heroes of the realm.

The manor itself was mostly school rooms and bedrooms. Therein one would learn advanced reading, math, geography, theory of martial arts, communication, diplomacy, history, religion, mythology, astronomy, horology, toxicology, biology, cartography, tactics, lock picking, trap building and breaking, basic magic, and how to trick a magic item into working for you even if you should not be able to. The students would learn to use a wide variety of weapons both up close and at range. Bows, crossbows, slings and darts would be covered, anything save guns. Michael loathed the things, and frankly was firmly against such technology leaving Solurius with each adventurer. After all, the sad truth was even with every lesson you can give, the death rate of such a life was high, and Michael had no desire to leave such valuable and dangerous technology scattered loose in the world. The rooms were functional and aesthetically pleasing if a little bland. Students would be allowed to customize as they stayed here, but no permanent changes. After all, they would not be staying and the rooms would likely be needed for the next class. It was dangerous work and they’d learn that. Many would go home, quitting. That didn’t concern Michael, as he would rather those who didn’t have the heart didn’t push it... they were almost certain to die. Also, more would arrive to replace them, of that he had no doubt. The main classrooms and gathering rooms were more richly decorated, with both tapestries and paintings highlighting scenes of discovery, fantastic places, and tucked in carefully picked messages of patriotism and togetherness. Michael wasn’t training soldiers, or even people he expected to follow rules and leaders easily... but he wanted to be sure they left firmly in love with Crown and Country.

As the students got themselves situated, managed and moved by a staff who’d practiced for this during the construction, Michael removed himself to speak with the head of the Manor. Belus Rothrenth was in his quarters, watching the students enter out of his good eye. Michael knocked before entering, exchanging smiles with the older man. Belus was a bear of man, broad shouldered and almost Norse looking. He wore a medium length but wild beard and heavy moustache, as well as shoulder length hair, both long since gone white as snow. He kept them well groomed, and his hair currently back in a warrior’s tail. The older man’s face was leathery and scarred, his injured eye covered with a neat cut leather blinder secured firmly to his head. His hair hid how one of his ears had it’s top bitten off, and several scars on his scalp and jawline. He dressed neatly and well, projecting a modest amount of wealth and discipline, but they could not fully hide his still broad chest, muscular arms, and massive hands. It was said once Belus had driven a warsword through the skull of a rampaging elephant. Michael could believe it, and knew he’d fought dire bears in the north with only a dagger. It was the fight that had cost him his eye. Belus smiled and grasped Michael’s arm in a warriors handshake warmly. “Earl Flos de Terra! Welcome! A grand day, is it not? The staff is settled in, and soon we’ll be putting these young hellions through the fire, and see who burns up... what’s left.. we’ll make grand heroes out of!” He said with a hearty chuckle. Michael joined him; they’d not adventured together much as Michael had not been often on this world, but he knew the type of man Belus was and found in him a kindred spirit. He wanted to see it all, the staff, the classes, the potential. He stepped back and put his arm towards the door, inviting Belus.

“Show me.”

Part 2

Michael and Belus walked the hallways from his office to various class rooms. The warm colors of the walls and wooden floor almost glowed where the tall windows let light in, though it also served to cast the spaces between darker shades by comparison to create a dappled effect of light and shadows. There were no suits of armor on display in these hallways though as Michael recalled there were some in the lodge area; instead hung map like tapestries and weaving, strange artifacts traded from the far flung corners of the earth, and local scrimshaw depicting the lore of the land. “So. What do you think of the staff I’ve recommended? Are they working out okay? I did leave generous room for guest instructors... I expect once it gets going, people will take great pleasure in coming up to do so.” Michael asked as he looked over the hall, imagining it filled with children on the cusp of adulthood ready to grab their own destiny.

Belus’s lips stretched into a thin line “They’re fine, My Lord.. I’m not sure I appreciate you giving my daughter leave to practice her... hobby... though.” Michael smiled and shook his head. “Belus, Belus... trust me, I know the type. She does it because she enjoys it. Think of this as a chance for you two to get to make a new start... and for her to do it legally, without ending up in the gaol again. She’s gifted, your Estia.... she can slip past a lock like it’s no one’s business, and she’s got a good head for logically taking apart a puzzle or a trap. Those are essential skills. I’ll have more staff for you soon, but I need to talk to some people.” Michael said, changing the subject as Belus’ face showed more obvious disapproval. The light waxed and waned over them as they walked down the hall. “The professor of Lore and History seemed good, and the Cartography professor... old salt looks nervous to be on land though”

Belus just nodded. “Ah, they’ll do fine Mi’Lord... as will your machines... I think a group is checking out that hellish machine you set up in the back quad... do you want to check it out?”

Michael smiled and nodded, leading them out a door and along a path winding into the back area... fenced off areas with training dummies and archery sets predominated the area without crowing it, the witchlight dotted paths further decorated with smaller statues; local heroes, legends, and monsters both real and mythological. A brief quarter mile walk brought them to the device Belus had been speaking of... a large scale wooden thing, a good 50 yards long at least. It had ramps and a path right up the middle of it... with padded swords swinging out a parts kept in motion by large wooden wheels, sandbags that were swung like maces, poles that swung freely from a frame above the path and a bridge that looked treacherous over a swift running stream the provided the power to the whole contrivance. There was indeed a small group of teens watching a woman make a run through it. She was a beautiful thing in her late twenties, wearing fitted leather armor that was festooned with buckles and straps that held all manner of small weapon and device. Her hair flew behind her as she jumped a swinging log, a bright flag of coppery curls marking her progress. She almost made it to the end when a surprise sandbag came up out of the floor like a miniature trebuchet and slammed into her chest, driving the air out of her and flooring her to the laughter of the students. Belus and Michael winced.... Belus for his daughter, and Michael because he hated to see a pretty woman get hit that way... it’d bruise... and because it was Belus’ daughter. Belus called “You okay, Estia??”

She coughed a bit, groaning and then burst into a laugh. “I’m fine, I’m fine.. ow... okay, I’m mostly fine! That bloody thing was NOT there last time!” She got herself up and dusted herself off as Michael and Belus approached. Michael chuckled “Of course it was... it just doesn’t fire every time. Many of the devices are like that.. they’re on kind of random gears... not truly, but it does mix them up. No use training them to rote, right? Heh... I’m surprised you didn’t dodge it though.. you were going along quite well, Estia. “ Several students laughed and offered suggestions on how they thought her performance was. She laughed with them and smirked as she said with a touch of acid in her tone “Aye, and we’ll see how well you all do running it.... I’m supposed to put you through it at least weekly... I think we can fit in three.” That reduced some of the students laughter, as Michael’s increased. “C’mon... you’re supposed to have the spirit of adventurers! It’s not that hard!” Estia raised an eyebrow? “Oh no? Well, MiLaird... would you mind showing us how it’s done then? Surely it’s no challenge for the device’s creator. “ The students cheered. Michael gave her a ‘oh, very cute’ look before taking in the people around him. “Yes, yes.. .fine. No issue. “ That brought cheers that covered Estia whispering into the ear of a student.. “Go over to the small floodgate that controls the stream’s speed... remove it, would you dear?” The young man smiled and ran to comply as Michael readied to run his own gauntlet.

Michael stretched a bit, making a show of it amid jeers, cheers, and shouts of bets. He took the ramp casually before bursting into a sprint. He turned that into a casual somersault as a sandbag on a rope whipped from the side at head level in imitation of a trap. He timed his roll and jumped up to grab a low hanging spar on the top part just as small rods stuck up from the floor he was rolling towards like spikes, hinted at only by a subtle pressure plate under his roll. Michael grabbed the next spar and the next, pulling up his body as a log fell from the top into a pit... that one must not have triggered last time, Michael thought. He let go of the spars with momentum to throw himself over the small pit, and kept going. Two sword height padded spars swung at him in succession, low and high... and both faster than Michael had been expecting. Heh... little witch had turned up the speed... Michael had barest seconds to avoid both, and he threw himself onto the ground on his back, letting both pass over him.. the low one by inches. He immediately pulled his legs under himself and snapped himself up to standing as a spar came up where his back had been. The swords were coming around for a second swing set but Michael was already a few feet past when they got to reset position. A board came up loose under his foot, reading to smack right into his face... he spun past it, then spun the other way as a larger board came from the side like a shield bash. This almost put him into the path of a sword swing, which he ducked by bending backwards at the last second, feeling the wooden “blade” just brush above his nose. He stood and kept going, hitting the bridge and jumping midway when it started to turn with the intent of dumping him off. He dodged a few more sandbag swings on the other side, remembering when this was easier even at higher speeds... well, he couldn’t pin down in memory exactly when that was, but surely at some point! His momentary lapse almost got his head beaned by the sandbag he’d just mentioned to Estia... the extra speed gave it a little more lift, it seemed! Michael dove to the right, banking off the wall a little as he rolled with it, and then tumbled to his feet on the opposite side as he hit the grass. The group of students laughed and cheered. Michael waved to them, playing up the small crowd. “See? Just that easy... do it just like I did, and you’ll be mostly fine.” That brought laughter as Belus started shooing the students back in. “Okay, okay... MiLord? I think the new arrivals should be settled. Would you like to address the students en mass?” Michael nodded, rubbing his shoulder “Yes.. that’s best... say... how about some water first? “ A grin. It’s cover up heavier breathing and give him time to work the kink out of his shoulder.

An hour later the student body was packed into the main assembly hall. There was room for all and more, the hall brightly lit by large quarts crystals set into the walls and pulsing with a soft magic light. Between the bottom seats and the podium, there was a large scale mosaic tile set into the floor, showing an incomplete map of the world. Indeed, more than half of it was dark. Michael waited in the instructor’s quarters off to the side, sipping a cider as the crowd of students were worked up by Estia, smiling prettily and telling some amusing stories while working them up slowly in anticipation for his address. Michael noted the effectiveness of it as applause hit as he approached... he considered what he was going to say, and hoped they would be as excited after. He was in a mix of attire... lordly, still obviously noble.. but not his best. He wore a few weapons and tools of the trade, and fingerless leather gloves that held a few wands sewn into the bracer part. He looked like an extremely well to do traveller, which he supposed is just what he was, really. Rings on his fingers, a golden torc with rubies on the ends, a fine leather belt and subtle gemstones studding weapons and sheaths completed the appearance. He raised his hands for silence, waiting for the room to quiet before starting his address.

“Welcome, students, to the Solurian Adventurer and Expeditionary Guild and School. You think you are here for many reasons... but, I think you will come to find that we are all here for one, united purpose. Some of you are here because you think it will make you a strong warrior. Make no mistake, if that is your goal... you’re in the wrong place. Go to the Defense Ministry, train under Lady Alysia. You will get no finer education and will be preforming a great service to the land that has fostered you and it’s people. This a high and noble goal.

Some of you come to learn the secrets of magic, to do impossible things like in stories. I say to you, if you have talent, go unto Shadowcove and learn from the Archmagus, Marquis Shadowcove, Lord Helgraz. His school is without peer, and he will train you farther than you ever dreamed your talents could take you.

Some of you come here to be famous.. immortal in legend, finding riches, the hero of the story on every-ones lips. That is a fine goal.. and aye, you may reach it. However, the cost is high. Look to your left... and your right. One or both of the students you see there will likely die or be badly injured before you have a hint of fame. Make no mistake that this is a dangerous life to choose... you will defy fate, pitting yourself against the wild unknown and whatever forgotten horrors lay within its shadows. More than half of all those who brave the wild unknown as adventuring heroes and heroines are never heard from again, their only tribute the lonely grave where their bones lie scattered, if they are not subject to some horrible end that would give the most valiant knight pause. If this thought scares you, gives you pause and makes you rethink being here... my advice is go home, join a guild, learn a good trade and live simply. There’s no shame in it and many will think you mad for choosing this life over that.

Why then, are those who stay here? It’s not to become great fighters... nor mages... nor to become rich and famous. Those who stay are here because they thirst to know. To shine a light into the dark spaces of the world... to pull back the cloak of ignorance... to explore lands, meet people, and slay monsters when they must... and learn of them so others can if they can avoid the fight themselves. You are those who are possessed of the spirit of adventure itself, a wanderlust of purpose that can never rest settled while the great mysteries of the world stand unanswered, unable to sleep as your dreams are tortured with the images of what may be on that next island, some dread lost land only hinted at by the ancient poets. Because, deep in your heart, you know that when the hour is at hand... when you are dangling from a massive golden idol of some heathen devil-thing in a forgotten land, trying to pry the massive ruby from it’s eye while you dangle above the flaming bowl in it’s hands, when the native drums beat in the distance as the sentries close in... that you will reach down into this spirit... and know that you have the pluck... the luck.. the raw courage and honed skill to survive by the skin of your teeth.. and the realization that if you do not, other will carry on in your place, because knowledge must be served! We are here because... when you are old, and your joints protest the cold weather... when your hair has all but flown from your scalp, and you nod half asleep by the fire... when your granddaughter comes to you in her nightgown and her stuffy doll, and crawls to your lap, and tells you of wonders she heard of... of lands she’d heard people have come from... or how her brother was cured of illness by medicine from a land none knew of in your own youth... that you, YOU will have made that possible in part. That your beacon of knowledge, the writings you publish, the lands you mark, the treasures you return with.... will enrich the lives of all who learn of them! You are here, because darkness rules the map, and the unknown strides the world like the Colossus of Rhodes. Gentlemen.. Ladies... Heroes.. Heroines... we are here to fill in the map, for the good of the land!”

As Michael spoke, the mosaic map began to glow softly.. first on the known lands.. but then a soft amber light started to grow over the dark points, filling in the darkness.... when he finished, the whole map was ablaze with soft light, illuminating the podium and Michael, his hands raised as the students cheered. “Now? Who’s with me? Who wants to go on the grand adventure?””