Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game
Chapter 241: Ch239. Lodge of odds and memories

Chapter 241: Ch239. Lodge of odds and memories

The morning in Vel’Serath rose slow and amber.

From their high window, Miles could see the spiraled terraces of the Artisan’s Ring breathing to life. Furnaces exhaling threads of smoke, artisans balancing pigment with memory, and the fluted calls of morning traders echoing through stone and branch.

Sarissa stirred beneath the light sheet, blinking blearily as Miles sat on the edge of his bed, still staring down at the plaza below. The fire-moss they had retrieved last night continued to flicker faintly on the shelf beside him.

Even now, it hasn’t burned down.

"I’m going to see the Lodge." He stood and stretched.

Sarissa rubbed at her face and threw the sheet off.

"You mean we’re going. I need to know the place too, and we gotta know how we’ll earn our keep here."

"Bounties." Miles smiled, pulling on his jacket.

"How do you know?" Sarissa frowned.

"There’s a Bounty board at the end of the main hall, I noticed it before we got upstairs." Miles smirked.

"And I thought I had an eye for detail..." Sarissa scoffed as they left the room.

They walked down together, taking a route along the interwoven stairs that circled the outer bark of the massive spiraled tree. Soft, bioluminescent flora curled away from their steps, and birds with crystal beaks flitted past them like sparks from a forge.

By the time they reached the Lodge, the place was already alive with motion. Hunters filtered in and out, some with claws strapped to their belts, others carrying staves carved from spinewood or blades singing with enchantment.

Most wore armor stitched with tokens, clawed pendants, eye-shaped stones, and feathers dyed in hues not found in natural daylight.

Keir caught sight of them and offered a lazy salute from where she leaned beside the hearth, sipping from a clay cup.

"Well, look who woke up like real people."

"Where’s the board?" Sarissa offered a half-smile.

"Through the arch, to your right. You’ll know it when you see it." Keir nodded toward the far wall.

They followed the path through the main hall, deeper into a stone corridor where the warmth of the hearth gave way to the cooler breath of memory. The hallway opened into a chamber walled with glowing script.

At its center stood a massive circular board, easily twice Miles’s height, carved from some kind of petrified wood.

It was ringed with metal bands and etched with glyphs. Across its surface were hundreds of parchments, threads, tokens, and bone-carved sigils, all pinned in place with ivory thorns.

"This is..." Sarissa whispered. "It’s like a monster hunter’s dream."

Miles stepped closer. Each item was a mission, or, at least, it felt like one.

Descriptions of sightings, names of creatures, and warnings of areas sealed off. Some notices were glowing softly, freshly posted. Others were dark, cracked, clearly ancient.

One corner of the board stood out.

The tasks there were different. No parchment, only engraved bone and dark tokens. No one else approached that section.

A small plaque beneath it read: Unclaimed Echoes.

"What’s this section?" Miles asked, pointing.

An older hunter with brown hair and eyes nearby glanced over his shoulder. His face bore the deep grooves of someone who had lived through more than he’d wanted.

"That’s the graveyard." He said, indifferent. "Targets no one’s touched in decades, or tried and never came back."

Sarissa stepped forward, eyeing the tokens. One bore a depiction of a worm with three mouths, surrounded by a ring of severed hands. Another looked like a flame caught in a cage made of ribs. A third simply read.

"The Hollowing That Walks."

"No names of who posted them..." She muttered.

"Because whoever posted them likely never made it back to tell the tale." The hunter said grimly.

Before they could speak further, Keir stepped into the chamber, arms folded.

"Curious, are we?"

"Why leave these posted if no one’s taking them?" Miles turned to her.

"Because sometimes... The past comes back. And it’s good to have a reminder. The Lodge records, not just for glory, but to remember what it costs to become a Hunter."

She gestured toward another part of the board where several names had been scratched through beside faded tasks.

"Those are the ones we lost. Every failed hunt leaves a mark."

"There’s no ranking system? No level requirements?" Sarissa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"You’re thinking like a gaming kid." Keir grinned. "And this isn’t one. We don’t stop you from picking something above your head, but the Lodge won’t stop you from dying, either."

Miles looked again at the ancient tokens. They were beautiful in a macabre sort of way, like invitations carved in secrecy and risk.

Keir motioned them back toward the main hall.

"Come on." She rushed them. "Time to get you registered. Can’t have you poking around without making it official."

They returned to the circular room near the hearth, where Elder Rhelan sat again. Not in his usual place, but standing beside a brazier filled with burning herbs. The smoke curled into shapes, vanishing into runes on the walls.

"So, you want to be hunters." Rhelan offered a slow nod.

"We want to learn." Miles said. "And earn our place."

Rhelan gestured for them to step forward. They moved, and he handed each of them a clasp, shaped like an open eye within a ring. It was made of carved bone and some iron that looked like dark wood.

"This marks you as apprentices. You will not be given orders, though. Only choices, so choose wisely."

They both affixed the clasps to their coats.

"Good. Now... Show me how you burn." Rhelan’s eye gleamed.

***

After getting a serious, yet welcoming nod from Rhelan, Miles and Sarissa each received their Hunter outfits.

It consisted of leather pants that looked like they had been freshly removed from some scaly animal, as from the knees up, the leather was covered with numerous dark scales, and from the knees down, they were completely smooth, except for the leathery texture of the fabric.

Each of them also received a pair of black boots that were surprisingly solid, with sturdy soles that were, at the same time, strangely malleable. Made of extremely thick and stiff leather, the boots reached up to their knees, allowing them not to worry about any lack of protection that the pants might cause, thanks to the absence of scales below the knees.

From the waist up, they each received a shirt made of something that looked like raw cotton, but at the same time was nothing like the fabric they knew on Earth. It was as if the fibers moved over and around themselves, tightening and straining against each other, so that, in addition to being simple clothing, the shirts gave them the feeling of wearing armor.

Along with the pants, boots, and shirts, they also received a pair of gloves, also black, and also made of leather, apparently solid and resistant. However, when Miles put them on, he widened his eyes at the feeling of comfort and elasticity they brought to his skin.

"Wow... The clothes here are... peculiar." The corners of his lips curved upward in a gently mischievous half-smile. ’They don’t even look like simple garments.’

"That’s because they’re not." Keir chuckled. "They’re Hunter outfits. And even though they’re beginner outfits, they’re made by the artisans of this Ring. This means they are not just everyday attire, but also armor and shields, to ensure that our Novices have at least some chance of returning alive from the Wildlands, should they decide to take on a job that is harder than they are actually capable of doing."

Miles and Sarissa exchanged glances, sheathed their swords—simple, unadorned blades with no ornamentation on the guard—and nodded in silent agreement, following Keir into what would be a long day of introduction to the Lodge proper.