The morning mist clung to the cobblestone streets of Eldervale as Ethan made his way through the town's winding paths. His simple brown cloak, patched and mended from years of use, barely drew a glance from the early risers going about their morning routines. He had become accustomed to blending into the background—just another face in the crowd, another traveler passing through the modest town.
The walk from Rivermoor Orphanage had been peaceful—just him and the dawn. He'd left while the children still slept, but not before preparing their breakfast in quiet, familiar motions. The morning air carried no demands, only time to think.
Today, however, he had been summoned to the Hunter Guild for the first time since arriving in Eldervale. His recent string of completed missions had apparently caught someone's attention.
Inside the Hunter's Guild, the atmosphere was notably different from what he'd expected. The hall buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, hunters clustered around a nearly empty mission board, their conversations heated and frustrated. Many shot glances toward the reception area where he now stood, though none seemed to recognize him specifically.
Behind the counter sat a middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled back in a practical bun. Her weathered hands moved efficiently through paperwork as she looked up at his approach.
"You must be Ethan," she said with a knowing smile. "I'm Linda, the guild's senior clerk. Grandmaster Alaric has been expecting you."
Ethan nodded respectfully, still somewhat surprised by the summons. "Yes, ma'am. I was told he wanted to see me?"
"Indeed. Quite unusual, actually—he rarely calls for private meetings with A-rank hunters." Linda's eyes held a hint of curiosity. "Up the stairs, third door on the right. He's waiting for you."
The stairs creaked under his boots as he climbed, passing other guild members who paid him little attention. His unremarkable appearance had served him well these past weeks—allowing him to complete missions without drawing unwanted scrutiny or questions about his past.
The corridor leading to the Grandmaster's office was lined with portraits of notable hunters from years past. At the end stood a heavy oak door bearing the guild's simple crest. Ethan knocked softly.
"Enter," came a gruff voice from within.
The office was functional rather than grand—its spaciousness made apparent by tall windows that cast morning light across the polished oak desk. Wooden shelves stood lined with ledgers and mission reports, interspersed with ancient tomes and magical artifacts accumulated over decades of guild leadership. A massive painting of Eldervale's founding hunters dominated one wall, watching over the cluttered workspace where paperwork piled on every available surface. Behind the desk sat a man in his sixties, broad-shouldered despite his age, with silver hair and intelligent eyes that seemed to measure everything they saw—from the sunlit dust motes to the strategic maps peeking out beneath unfinished reports.
"Grandmaster Alaric," Ethan said, offering a respectful bow.
"Sit, please," Alaric gestured to the chair across from his desk. "I've been reviewing your recent mission reports. Quite impressive work for someone who's been operating so quietly."
Ethan settled into the chair, maintaining his composed demeanor. "Thank you, sir. I simply try to complete my assignments efficiently."
"Efficiently," Alaric repeated with a slight chuckle. "That's one way to put it. Seven B-rank missions in four days, three C-rank missions completed in a single afternoon, and yesterday's A-rank giant snake hunt that should have taken three days—finished in six hours."
The Grandmaster leaned back in his chair, studying Ethan intently. "You've single-handedly cleared more missions this past week than most hunters complete in a month. The other guild members are... concerned about the sudden scarcity of available work."
"I apologize if my pace has caused inconvenience," Ethan replied carefully. "I can adjust my mission frequency if needed."
"Oh, it's not a complaint," Alaric said, his expression shifting to something more serious. "It's an opportunity. Your performance has been so exceptional that I have a proposition for you—one that could change everything."
The older man opened a drawer and pulled out a sealed document, placing it on the desk between them.
"This is an S-rank mission, Ethan. Completion would not only earn you a substantial reward but also a promotion to S-rank hunter—one of the highest honors in our profession."
Ethan's pulse quickened, though he kept his expression neutral. "What would the mission entail?"
"Mount Tundra," Alaric said gravely. "You're to hunt and kill the Frost Wyrm that has made its lair in the mountain's deepest caverns. The creature has been terrorizing the northern settlements for months, and conventional hunting parties have failed to even reach its domain."
The name sent a chill through Ethan, though not from fear. He had heard whispers of the Frost Wyrm—an ancient creature of immense power that had claimed the lives of dozens of hunters over the years.
"The mountain itself is a death trap," Alaric continued. "Extreme weather, treacherous terrain, and guardian beasts that serve the Wyrm. Your task would be to slay the creature and return with its Ice Core as proof of success."
Ethan considered the mission carefully. It was exactly the kind of challenge he had been unconsciously seeking—something that would push his abilities and perhaps provide answers to questions he wasn't yet ready to voice.
"I understand the risks, Grandmaster. I accept the mission."
Alaric's stern expression suddenly cracked, and he began to laugh—a deep, hearty sound that filled the small office.
"Unbelievable! You didn't even hesitate! Most hunters would ask for time to consider, to gather a party, to prepare for weeks!" He wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "You remind me of myself at your age—ready to take on the world single-handed."
Ethan found himself smiling despite the gravity of the situation. "I've learned that preparation is important, but sometimes the best preparation is simply being ready to adapt."
"Wise words," Alaric nodded approvingly. "But let me share something that saved my life when I climbed Mount Tundra decades ago—a good blanket! I know it sounds simple, but when you're freezing to death on that accursed mountain, nothing matters more than warmth."
The Grandmaster's laughter returned, infectious and surprisingly comforting. "Pack the warmest blanket you can find, lad. It might just be the difference between success and becoming an ice sculpture!"
"I'll remember that advice," Ethan replied, genuinely amused by the man's shift in demeanor.
"And hot chocolate!" Alaric added with a grin. "Nothing beats a warm drink in the cold, though don't overdo it—trust me, looking for relief in a blizzard is an experience you want to avoid!"
Despite the mission's dangers, Ethan found himself chuckling at the image. There was something endearing about this legendary Grandmaster sharing such practical, almost mundane advice.
"You know," Alaric said, his tone becoming more thoughtful, "what impresses me most about your recent missions isn't just the speed or success rate. It's the precision. You complete each task with exactly the effort required—no more, no less. That kind of efficiency speaks to experience far beyond your apparent years."
Ethan felt a flicker of something—caution, perhaps, or recognition of a deeper truth he wasn't ready to confront. "I simply try to be thorough in my preparations."
"Indeed." Alaric's eyes held a knowing glint. "Well, whatever your methods, they've certainly proven effective. The mission details are in that document—study them well. You'll have three days to prepare before the weather window closes."
Standing from his chair, Ethan took the sealed mission brief. "Thank you for this opportunity, Grandmaster. I won't disappoint you."
"I believe you won't," Alaric replied, rising as well. "But remember—strength alone won't see you through this trial. The Frost Wyrm has killed hunters far more experienced than most. It will test not just your combat skills, but your wisdom, your resolve, and your ability to endure."
As Ethan moved toward the door, Alaric called out one final time. "And don't forget the blanket!"
Stepping back into the corridor, Ethan felt the weight of the mission settling over him like a familiar cloak. This was what he had been building toward, though he hadn't realized it until now. Each completed mission, each small victory, had been preparation for something greater.
As he walked back through the guild hall, the frustrated hunters at the mission board seemed to sense something had changed. Their conversations quieted as he passed, though whether from curiosity or instinct, he couldn't tell.
Outside, the afternoon sun was breaking through the morning mist, casting long shadows across Eldervale's streets. Ethan made his way back toward the Rivermoor, his mind already turning to the preparations ahead. The children would worry when he told them about the mission. But this was something he had to do—not just for the promotion or the reward, but for Embelryn.