The Sap Cascade

The Guildmasters chamber is a study in controlled chaos. Tall windows flood the high-ceilinged room with morning light, illuminating walls lined with maps, trophies, and crowded bookshelves. Behind a massive desk carved from a single tree sits Lucien Varrow, Guildmaster of Nexara. He’s younger than Vael expected—perhaps forty—with a neatly trimmed beard and the faint scar of a blade across his left cheek. He looks up from a stack of papers, eyes sharp and assessing.

“Enter,” he says, voice carrying the practiced authority of command.

Vael and Frosya step inside, the door closing behind them with a soft click. They stand at attention, just as Vael’s father had instructed: backs straight, chins up, hands at their sides.

“Guildmaster Varrow,” Vael begins, the words coming more smoothly than he’d feared. “I am Vaelius Linden, and this is Efrosinia Alexeeva. We’ve come to register as adventurers following our awakening ceremony.”

Varrow nods, gesturing to the chairs opposite his desk. “Sit. The desk mentioned you wished to be interviewed jointly?”

“Yes, sir.” Frosya speaks now, her voice steady. “We plan to work as a team, if the Guild permits.”

“Common enough,” Varrow replies, rifling through their forms. “Helps with the transition, having a familiar face.” His eyes scan the pages quickly, pausing occasionally to make a note. “Rivenholt… good village. Solid folk. You’re the apothecary’s son?” He glances at Vael.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you—” He turns to Frosya. “Artificer heritage. Interesting. We don’t see many in these parts.”

Frosya’s hand moves unconsciously to touch one of the silver lines on her arm. “My family relocated here when I was fourteen. Father works at the Imperial mine.”

“Hmm.” Varrow sets the papers aside and leans back. “Normally, you’d be seeing one of my deputies, but we’re short-staffed. Many are dealing with the influx of monsters from this sap surge that seems to be starting.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Administrative headaches. Nothing that concerns new recruits.”

He stands, moving to a cabinet against the wall. From it, he removes a crystal sphere the size of a melon, perfectly clear except for a subtle blue glow at its centre. He places it on a stand in the middle of his desk.

“Now then, the affinity test. Simple enough—the crystal checks your sap affinity, reservoir, and purity.” He taps the sphere lightly. “Place your hands on either side, focus on the feeling you experienced during awakening, and the crystal will respond accordingly.”

Vael studies the crystal. It looks ordinary enough—like the decorative ones sold in Nexara’s craftsmen’s district—but the faint light within pulses with a rhythm almost like a heartbeat.

“Who’s first?” Varrow asks.

Frosya steps forward, a determined look in her eyes. “I’ll go.” Varrow nods as she places her palms against the cool surface of the crystal, her silver-lined arms reflecting brilliantly within its depths. She closes her eyes, brow furrowing in concentration.

Streaks of rich blue spiral through the crystal like an underwater current. Varrow’s eyes widen, and a smile spreads across his face as he makes notes. “Water affinity. Quite clear.” He peers intently at the heart of the crystal, where the colour continues to swirl with remarkable intensity. “Exceptional purity and strength. Your Artificer augmentations will undoubtedly amplify your control with this affinity.”

Frosya steps back, a smile breaking across her face. “It felt right,” she says. “Like remembering something I’ve always known.”

“That’s how it should feel,” Varrow confirms. He turns to Vael. “Your turn, Master Linden.”

Vael wipes his palms on his trousers before placing them on the crystal. The crystal feels neither warm nor cold, just… present. He closes his eyes, trying to recapture yesterday’s sensation—the wind, the precipice, the flashing steel.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the crystal’s glow intensifies, shifting to a brilliant silver and white—not mixed, but swirling around each other. The lights pulse strongly, expanding to fill the entire crystal.

“Well, well,” Varrow says, sounding genuinely impressed. “Pure metal and air affinities, and remarkably strong.” He leans closer. “Not a trace of interference.”

He makes further notes, then sets his pen aside. “Both of you show full sap levels for beginners—the usual five units per affinity. That means you, Master Linden, have a total of ten sap, five from air, five from metal. While Miss Alexeeva has five from water.”

He reaches into a drawer and removes two objects: plain bracelets of brass and leather, each bearing a small crystals similar to the testing sphere. “These are your Guild bracelets. They’re more than decoration—they’re your record, your credential, and your access to Guild resources.”

He hands one to each of them. The bracelet is heavier than it looks, the metal cool against Vael’s skin. Small sigils are etched around its circumference, and the crystals embedded in the centre gives off a faint, pleasant warmth.

“The bracelets store your personal details—name, Guild affiliation, affinity skills, sap levels, and records any kills” 

Varrow demonstrates on his own bracelet, a more elaborate version. “They interface directly with your awakened soul space, updating automatically as you grow. They also track your Credits and serve as proof of your status when collecting payment.”

He turns the band so they can see the side. “Notice these four small crystals here. As you progress through a tier, they’ll light up one at a time—a dim glow at first, then brighter with each step forward. Two means you’re halfway through the tier; when all four are brightly lit, it’s time to level up. For your Credits or to review your skills, take the bracelet to any Guild counter, and they’ll read it for you. The bracelet records any kills automatically. It vibrates to confirm these events. Sometimes you’ll barely notice it in the heat of a fight, but the record will be there. There are more sophisticated bracelets for higher ranks, but this is the standard issue. It’s reliable—and it will serve you well.”

“Credits?” Vael asks.

“The universal currency of the Guild and many of the more advanced planets. One credit equates to one silver. Accepted throughout the Empire, Republic, Artificer’s, Beast Collective, Industrialist territories and the Frontier regions.” He counts them off on his fingers. “Perhaps not generally in Tzik’Tix lands, though some brave souls still venture there.” The Guildmaster continues, “push a little sap into it to soul bind it.”

Vael fastens his around his wrist, the clasp clicks shut.

He concentrates, pushing a thread of sap into the bracelet. The crystals pulse in response—once, warmly, as if in acknowledgment. For an instant, the etched sigils around the band flare silver and white.

“How does it connect with our soul space?” Frosya asks, examining it as it flares blue.

“The enchantment is proprietary Guild technology,” Varrow explains. “Essentially, it creates a harmless connection to your awakened soul. You’ll learn to access the information stored there yourselves at higher tiers, it’s a skill. For now, simply wearing it is enough.”

He stands, signalling the end of their interview. “Congratulations. You are now officially tier one adventurers of the Empire’s Adventuring Guild. “Tomasz Grinn, one of our clerks, will show you to the assignment boards and explain the ranking system.” He offers a firm handshake to each of them. “Work hard, stay alive, and perhaps I’ll see you again when you’re ready for silver rank.”

“Tomasz will take you from here,” Varrow says, already turning back to his paperwork. “Good hunting.”

As they leave the chamber, Vael feels the weight of the bracelet on his wrist—not just metal and leather, but responsibility, opportunity, promise. He catches Frosya’s eye, and her smile reflects his own thoughts: This is real. We’re adventurers now.

Tomasz Grinn leads them back through the Guild’s corridors with brisk efficiency. He has the rapid speech of someone who explains the same things multiple times daily. Unlike the Guildmasters measured authority, Tomasz practically vibrates with nervous energy, his words tumbling over each other as he walks.

“Congratulations on your bracelets,” he says over his shoulder. “First day’s always special. I still remember mine—fifteen years ago now. Wood affinity. Never got past tier eight, but that’s fine for administrative work.”

They emerge into the main hall again, now even busier than before. Tomasz guides them to the far wall where three massive boards dominate the space. Parchment of varying quality pinned haphazardly, some new, others curling at the edges from age.

“Assignment boards,” Tomasz announces, gesturing with a flourish. “The lifeblood of the Adventurers Guild. Bronze, silver, gold—ranked by difficulty and recommended tier.” He points to each in turn. The bronze board stands crowded with notices, the silver less so, and the gold board holds only a handful of imposing-looking documents.

“Most new adventurers start with bronze, naturally,” Tomasz continues. “Tiers one through five, though that’s advisory rather than a strict requirement. Some ambitious types try silver tasks early—we fish their bodies out of the river later.” His laugh is quick and nervous.

Vael examines the bronze board. The notices range from elegantly penned requests to hastily scrawled pleas. Each bears a credit value and basic description.

“The tier recommendations exist for your safety,” Tomasz explains. “Bronze tasks typically require minimal sap expenditure and pose limited danger. Silver tasks demand more experience and resource management. Gold tasks…” He glances at the distant board. “Those are for adventurers who’ve proven themselves exceptional.”

“Is Gold the highest?” Vael asked.

“On our boards, yes.” the clerk replied, nodding his head. “Gold takes you to tier 15. At tier 16 and beyond, assignments are advisory. These adventurers hold such high standing that they are approached individually and hired for specific missions. So, you still have a way to go.”

Frosya steps closer to the bronze board. “What sorts of tasks are typical for beginners?”

“Oh, plenty of variety. The last few days we’ve been getting lots of new assignments posted.” Tomasz taps a notice near eye level. “Here’s a classic: Rats in the sewers, eastern quarter. One credit per five exterminations. Not glamorous, but steady work. The city always needs rat control.”

Vael reads the notice: “Rats continue to plague the lower market sewers. Guild-certified extermination required. Payment: One credit per five exterminations. Inquire with Sanitation Office for access points.”

“Or this one,” Tomasz continues, indicating a more official-looking document. “Merchant caravan seeking guards for a seven-day journey to Fallbrook. Six credits per day, meals included. Low risk, good experience.”

“What about this?” Frosya points to a notice written on blue parchment.

“Ah, support roles.” Tomasz nods. “Established adventurers sometimes hire tier ones for specific tasks—potion carrying, surveillance, extra combat support. Five credits flat rate. Good mentorship opportunity.”

Vael’s eyes wander across the board. Most notices promise modest pay for tedious work—clearing minor pests from farmland, guarding premises, cataloguing plants for the Alchemists’ Guild.

Then a notice near the bottom catches his eye. He crouches to read it: “Wolf pack sighted near Oakshade Woods. Harassing livestock. Ten credits per extermination. Estimated size: 5-7 animals.”

“What about this wolf hunt?” he asks, straightening.

Tomasz peers at the notice. “Ah yes, posted yesterday. Decent pay, but requires tracking skills and some combat experience. Wolves aren’t particularly dangerous individually, but they hunt in packs and can be clever.”

“We could handle that,” Frosya says, meeting Vael’s eyes. There’s a spark there—the same one he feels. Rats and escort duty might be practical, but wolves… that sounds like a real adventure.

“The procedure is simple,” Tomasz explains, seeing their interest. “You select an assignment, bring it to reception where we verify your bracelet details and suitability. Upon completion, the clerk will check your bracelets and you’ll receive payment in credits.”

“And we just… take the notice?” Frosya asks.

“Indeed. But for new adventurers, on combat assignments, there’s an additional step.” Tomasz adjusts his spectacles. “Your first few assignments include the free accompaniment of a tier three adventurer, for safety and training purposes.”

Vael unpins the wolf notice, feeling the weight of the parchment. A real mission. Wolves. The forest. It’s exactly the sort of thing they’d imagined when playing adventurers as children.

“This one,” he says with certainty.

Frosya nods her agreement. “We’ll take the wolves assignment.”

Tomasz leads them back to the reception desk, where a different clerk—a woman with grey-streaked hair—examines their bracelets and the notice.

“Wolf pack,” she says, eyebrows rising slightly. “Ambitious for first-timers.”

“We’re from Rivenholt,” Frosya explains. “We know the Oakshade Forest.”

The clerk touches each of their bracelets in turn, and the crystals pulse in response. “Tier ones, dual metal and air, and water.” She makes a note in her ledger. “Very well. Confirmed for the Oakshade wolf pack. Come back when complete so we can check your bracelets, and make payment.”

“And the supervision?” Tomasz prompts.

“Ah, yes.” The clerk consults another ledger. “We can arrange a suitable tier three to escort you.”

“Very well.” The clerk makes another note. “Return tomorrow at dawn. Your escort will meet you here. Pack for at least two days of wilderness travel. The wolves were last spotted five miles north of Oakshade.”

“Two days?” Frosya asks. “We didn’t bring supplies for—”

“We’ll manage,” Vael interrupts. They can purchase what they need in the market. His mother’s extra coin.

The clerk taps their bracelets one by one against the reading artifact. A brief pulse of light marks the mission’s assignment: Oakshade Wolf Pack. “You’re assigned. When you return, see one of the clerks at the main desk for verification,” she says, giving them both a quick, appraising look—equal parts concern and amusement. “Good luck.”

As they leave the desk, Tomasz offers a final piece of advice. “Don’t be discouraged by the simple nature of some early tasks. Everyone starts somewhere. The Guildmaster himself began by hunting rats.” He smiles. “Though he claims they were uncommonly large rats.”

They thank him and head for the exit, the wolf notice tucked safely in Vael’s pocket. Sunlight greets them as they emerge onto the Guild’s stone steps, the busy streets of Nexara continuing their market day bustle, unaware that two newly minted adventurers walk among them.

“Wolves,” Frosya says, as if testing the word. 

“Better than sewers,” Vael replies.

“True. But we’ll need some supplies.”

“The market,” he says, gesturing down the street where colourful stalls beckon. “And your mother will want to hear our news anyway.”

Their first real adventure. Vael feels the weight of the bracelet on his wrist, the notice in his pocket, the responsibility settling on his shoulders. Wolves. Not glamorous, perhaps, but a proper beginning.

The market square pulses with midday energy—haggling voices, the clatter of coins, children weaving between stalls. Vael and Frosya navigate through the press of bodies, the weight of their new bracelets unfamiliar but reassuring. Marina’s cheese stall comes into view, her distinctive blue-and-white awning a beacon amid the market chaos. She’s serving a well-dressed woman who gestures enthusiastically over a wheel of Blueshard.

“We should wait,” Frosya murmurs. “That’s the governor’s wife. Mother will want to finish the sale.”

They linger at the edge of the stall, watching Marina wrap the cheese in waxed cloth with practiced movements. The silver lines on her arms glint as she works, her smile professional yet warm. Coins change hands—more than the usual price, Vael notes—and the governor’s wife departs with her purchase nestled in a basket.

Marina spots them immediately. “There they are! My adventurers return.” Her eyes drop to their wrists. “With bracelets, I see. It went well?”

“Better than expected,” Frosya says, stepping forward to hug her mother. “The Guildmaster himself interviewed us.”

“Lucien Varrow?” Marina sounds impressed. “He rarely sees new recruits.”

“Staff shortages,” Vael explains. “Something about more monsters than usual, and a sap surge.”

Marina’s expression flickers. “Yes, we’ve heard rumours about the sap levels. Your father and Vovo have level heads, hopefully they will be safe.” She says looking down. “But this is a celebration! You must be hungry. Here—” She cuts thick slices from a wheel of sharp Kestrel, pairs them with bread from the neighbouring baker’s stall. “Tell me everything.”

They perch on stools behind the stall, devouring the impromptu lunch while recounting their morning—the Guildmasters chamber, the crystal test, the confirmation of their affinities. Frosya demonstrates how her bracelet’s crystals pulse blue, while Vael shows the silver and white glow of his own.

“And you’ve chosen your first assignment?” Marina asks, wrapping another cheese for a waiting customer.

Vael pulls the notice from his pocket. “Wolf pack near Oakshade Woods. Ten credits per extermination.”

Marina’s hands pause for a moment. “Wolves? For your first task?” Her tone remains neutral, but Vael catches a flicker of concern in her expression.

“We’ll have an escort,” Frosya assures her. “A tier three adventurer. And we know those woods.”

“Playing in them as children is different from hunting predators,” Marina points out, her expression softening. “Still, you must start somewhere; hopefully, your escort will keep you safe… adventurers.”

Marina rolls her eyes, a wistful expression crossing her face as memories of her own youth surface. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Frosya says. “We meet our escort at the Guild, first light.”

“Then you’ll need supplies.” Marina taps her fingers against the stall counter, thinking. 

“Now, what do you need for this expedition? Two days in the forest, you said?”

They had most of their gear sorted, except for provisions, although Vael wanted a leather bracer. Most of their equipment—Vael’s short sword, Frosya’s wand, and their sleeping rolls—was already packed in their backpacks, but they were still short on supplies.

“There’s a good adventurers supply stall three rows over,” Marina suggested. “Reiner’s. Just tell him I sent you.”

They weave through the market to find Reiner’s stall, where they purchase a loaf of dense travel bread, strips of dried venison, a few winter vegetables, two waterskins, and a leather bracer for Vael. The shopkeeper, a burly man with a missing front tooth, throws in a small packet of dried berries, “for luck.”

“First assignment?” he asks, eyeing their shiny new bracelets.

“Is it that obvious?” Frosya asks.

He grins. “Bracelets always give it away—too clean, too bright. Give it a month, they’ll look properly scuffed.”

Back at Marina’s stall, they reorganize their backpacks. Vael takes inventory of his: short sword wrapped in oilcloth, sleeping roll, spare clothes, bandages his father insisted upon, his mother’s small vial of healing potion for emergencies, and now their provisions. It’s not much, but it should suffice for a short expedition.

“The wolves were spotted five miles north of Oakshade,” he tells Marina. “Shouldn’t take more than a day to find them, another to return.”

“Unless they’ve moved on,” Frosya points out. “Wolves don’t stay in one place long.”

“Your escort will know how to track them,” Marina says. “Trust their experience.” She checks the position of the sun. “Another two hours of good selling time. Frosya, will you help me? I could use an extra pair of hands. Vael there’s a reasonable Inn over there, the ‘Silver Kettle’, you’ll need a couple of rooms.”

“Yes, my mother recommended it as well.” Vael said heading off.

When Vael returns, they spend the early afternoon at Marina’s stall. Vael handling coins while Frosya cuts samples for customers. The rhythm is familiar—they’ve both helped occasionally at market days—but something feels different now. The weight of the bracelets, perhaps, or the knowledge that tomorrow they step into a new life. Customers notice, commenting on their Guild affiliation with varying degrees of interest and advice.

“Wolves, eh?” an old man says, chewing a sample of Marina’s cheese. “Aim for the head. They’re quick, and will try to circle you.”

By mid-afternoon, most of Marina’s inventory is sold. They load the remaining wheels onto the cart and secure the canvas cover. The mare, who’s been dozing in the shade, perks up at their approach, sensing the homeward journey.

“Be careful,” Marina says, her tone caught somewhere between teasing and worry. She squeezes Frosya’s hand, then Vael’s shoulder. “I’ll see you for market next week, if you’re not back earlier. And good luck, both of you.”

They say their goodbyes at the edge of the square, watching as Marina steers her cart toward the city gates. Vael and Frosya linger a moment, the wolf notice safe in Vael’s pocket, then make their way up the street to their lodgings.

The “Silver Kettle” proves welcoming, if a little noisy—just off the main square, with a faded sign swinging above the door and the smells of stew and fresh bread drifting out. Vael had booked two modest rooms on the first floor earlier. After supper, they promised to meet in the common room at dawn, and headed for their rooms.

Later, as Vael sits by the window of his small room, the city thrumming quietly below, he runs his thumb along the edge of the parchment and his new bracelet. Tomorrow, their first real adventure begins.