Dawn crept over the horizon of Eldir-Vahn as Crispin made his way back through the quiet clearing. The sun pulsed with first light. He gripped the silver metal rod tightly; the runes etched into its surface emitted a steady, sympathetic glow that cut through the lingering morning mist. This light was bright enough to illuminate the path, serving as a silent lantern against the fading shadows of the forest. Regulus remained a steady, comforting weight on his shoulder.
The sound of his name echoed through the trees before the blacksmith's shop even came into view. Thorne's deep, rumbling voice carried a frantic edge, calling out into the rural silence. Crispin stepped into the clearing of his home. His father stood by the porch, his massive frame silhouetted against the amber light of the kitchen window. The man's eyes locked onto the glowing runes of the rod. He stopped mid-shout, his weathered face shifting from worry to a profound, quiet understanding.
Thorne moved across the grass with surprising speed for a man of his size. He enfolded Crispin in a warm, bone-crushing embrace that smelled of woodsmoke and coal. The thick white beard brushed against Crispin's forehead. "I am thankful you are safe," Thorne whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You will never understand how much I love you, son."
Elara stepped out from the heavy wooden door. Her sharp green eyes were no longer narrow with judgment; they were wide as she stared at the artifact in his hand. She approached slowly and reached out a hand to run her fingers through Crispin's white hair. A smile that didn't quite reach her eyes touched her lips. "I am proud of you, Crispin," she said softly. She let her hand drift down to touch the cold metal of the staff. "What does it do?"
Crispin stiffened at her touch. He pulled away from her, his gaze hardening into a sharp glare that mirrored her own previous coldness. "You're proud that the artifacts activated for me, but you still can't say you're proud of me for being your son?"
Elara's hand remained suspended in the air. Her habitually serious expression faltered into a look of genuine shock. "Crispin, I didn't mean..." She tried to move toward him, her lips trembling slightly. Crispin pulled away, keeping his distance and walking backward toward the main path.
The resonant blast of the city's horns sounded in the distance, signaling the start of the morning's activities. Crispin adjusted his grip on the silver rod. "Dad, I'm going to class," he said, his voice level and final. "We'll talk more when I get home."
"Crispin, get back here!" Elara's voice regained its frantic edge. "You need to rest! You've been up all night." He ignored her, turning his back on the smithy to head toward the stone terraces of the city. The glowing runes on the staff marked his path as he disappeared into the morning light.
The light from the silver rod carved a path through the early morning fog as Crispin entered the city gates. Granite streets vibrated with the sounds of a waking metropolis; merchants unrolled their awnings while scouts prepared their mounts. Every head turned as the young tamer passed. The steady, rhythmic pulse of the runes acted like a beacon, drawing eyes away from the colorful market stalls and toward the boy with the blue slime on his shoulder.
He stepped into the training hall just as the last echoes of the morning bell faded. A heavy silence followed his entrance. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to him, yet he kept his gaze fixed forward. Lucien sat near the front, his dragon whelp gnawing on a piece of charred leather; the noble's expression shifted to a narrow-eyed scowl as his gaze lingered on the glowing staff. Crispin found a seat near the back and ignored the stifling atmosphere of the room. He focused his attention solely on Elder Xereniti.
The Elder stood at the stone podium, his white braids clicking softly as he surveyed the new class.
"Guild access is a privilege you have not yet earned," the Elder began, his voice carrying clearly through the hall. "Membership remains a distant goal for now. Your current purpose is to understand the soul of your companion and refine your own strength. You are responsible for your own gear, your weapons, and the health of your tames. No one will hold your hand through the perils of your early taming life."
Xereniti gestured to a stack of parchment on the table beside him.
"Expect to arrive here each morning to receive a physical slip of paper. This slip will provide your destination for the day. You must go to that location, meet with your assigned guild affiliate, and complete whatever quests they provide. Reputation is the only currency that matters; use the spoils of your trials to upgrade yourselves and your companions. This phase forbids teaming up. Each of you must learn the intricacies of our local communities alone before you are fit for a pair."
The Elder's gaze settled on the group one by one.
"I will see each of you individually to provide your slips. Your day starts now."