James slumped against the cold stone pillar, the rough texture digging into his back. The guild hall buzzed around him, a cacophony of guttural roars, clanking armor, and high-pitched elven chatter. He understood none of it. Each rejection had been a fresh stab, a new layer of humiliation painted onto his already raw nerves. The human warrior had scoffed, the half-orc had grunted a dismissal, and the elves had simply turned their backs, their silver hair shimmering with disdain. His stomach growled, a hollow ache that echoed his despair. He felt like an alien, a useless, naked ape amongst gods. "Rough day, huh?" The voice, clear as a bell, cut through the din. It was English. James froze, every muscle in his body locking up. He spun around, his head snapping towards the sound. A figure stood before him, cloaked in dark, form-fitting leather that seemed to drink the meager light. The hood was pulled low, shadowing the face, but a lean hand reached out, pushing it back. A young man, perhaps a few years older than James, grinned. His hair was a mess of dark brown curls, his eyes a startling shade of hazel that seemed to dance with mischief. He was lithe, almost wiry, with an easy confidence in his posture. He carried no obvious weapon, only a multitude of pouches and a short, ornate dagger hilt peeking from under his cloak. "The name's Kael," the man said, his grin widening to reveal perfect, white teeth. He spoke with a casualness that completely belied the impossible circumstance. "And you, I take it, are James." James could only stare. His mouth felt dry, a desert. "You... you speak English?" The words were a croak, barely audible above the guild's roar. He felt a ridiculous surge of hope, a lifeline thrown into his drowning isolation, immediately followed by a chilling wave of suspicion. How? Why? Kael chuckled, a low, pleasant sound. "Let's just say I have a knack for picking up things." He gestured vaguely with a hand that seemed to hold a flicker of movement even at rest. "But that's not important right now. What *is* important is that you look like you could use a break. And maybe a meal that isn't stale bread crumbs." He pushed off the pillar, stepping closer. The faint scent of leather and something metallic, like iron, reached James. "I saw your little display earlier. Water magic, eh? Not bad for a... well, for someone new to the scene." His eyes, those dancing hazel eyes, flickered with an unreadable glint. "You're looking for work, I gather. A party to join?" James swallowed hard, the questions piling up behind his teeth. He should ask about the language, about how Kael knew his name, about everything. But Kael's offer, the mention of work, of a meal, hit him harder than any argument or logic. Desperation was a potent drug. "Yes," James managed, his voice still hoarse. "I need... I need something." Kael leaned in conspiratorially, his smile softening, becoming less mischievous and more genuinely inviting, though the shift felt a little too practiced. "Good. Because I might just have something for you." --- Kael straightened, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards a less crowded corner of the hall, near a flickering magical lantern. James followed, his senses on high alert. The relief of communication warred with the gnawing uncertainty Kael embodied. He moved with a silent grace, his soft leather boots making no sound on the rough-hewn floor. "It's a simple job, really," Kael began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur as they reached their spot. The lantern cast shifting shadows that made his face a mosaic of light and dark. "Just an escort. A delivery, if you will." "A delivery of what?" James asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked slightly. He crossed his arms, attempting to project an air of confidence he didn't feel. His worn t-shirt and jeans felt like a uniform for a different, safer life. Kael waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you know. A package. Nothing exciting. Just needs to get from here to Oakhaven." "Oakhaven?" James repeated. The name meant nothing to him. "How far is that?" "A day's journey, maybe two if we take it slow," Kael replied, already looking impatient. His gaze darted around the guild hall, as if checking for eavesdroppers, though his expression remained perfectly calm. "Through the Whisperwood. Nothing too dangerous, if you know the paths. Which I do, of course." "What's in the package?" James pressed, feeling the need to pin down details. His gut churned. 'Package' was too vague. Was it gold? Jewels? Something alive? Something illegal? The less Kael said, the more his imagination conjured trouble. "Client prefers discretion," Kael said, his smile tightening. It didn't reach his eyes this time. "Let's just say it's... valuable. And it requires a certain level of protection." He paused, those hazel eyes finally meeting James's directly, a spark of calculation in them. "Which is where your little talent comes in, my friend." James felt a flush creep up his neck. His 'talent'. Conjuring water, a trick he’d mimicked from Lyra. It felt less like a talent and more like a parlor trick, especially in this place teeming with genuine mages and warriors. "My water magic?" "Precisely," Kael affirmed, a hint of something like satisfaction in his tone. "The Whisperwood can be dry in places. A fresh water source, on demand, could be... advantageous. And, well, a little elemental display can scare off common brigands. They think twice about attacking a mage, even one who only splashes them." He winked. James didn't find it funny. He thought of the scaled beast, its massive form retreating from his blast. It hadn't just been 'splashed'. He had hit it with some force. But Kael didn't need to know the full extent of his accidental power. "And the client? Who are they?" Kael shrugged, a movement as fluid as water. "Doesn't matter. They pay well. Enough for a proper meal, new boots, maybe even a small dagger to make you feel a little less... exposed." He flicked his gaze pointedly at James's empty belt. "This is just a simple courier run. Easy money, no fuss." The words were smooth, but the way his fingers tapped a restless rhythm on his thigh suggested a hidden current of agitation. --- James watched Kael's restless fingers, then his darting eyes. Every instinct screamed caution. The vagueness, the easy dismissal of his questions, the too-smooth smile – it all painted Kael as someone who habitually withheld information, someone who likely operated in the grey areas. This was not the straightforward, honest adventurer he’d hoped to find. This was something else. A flicker of fear ran through him, a cold coil in his stomach. But then, he thought of the rejections. The guild members who had openly mocked him. The empty pouch at his hip, a constant reminder of his destitution. He remembered the feeling of Lyra’s hard gaze, the Guard Captain’s suspicion. He was an outsider, adrift in a world that clearly had no patience for the weak or the unprepared. Survival here wasn’t a guarantee; it was a daily struggle. He needed a way in, a first step, anything to get off the bottom rung. His stomach gave another painful lurch. He hadn't eaten a proper meal since... since Truck-kun. The memory of the squealing tires and the desperate lunge for the cat was a distant, hazy nightmare. Now, hunger was a very real, very present torment. Kael had mentioned food. New boots. A dagger. The thought of feeling even slightly more equipped, slightly less vulnerable, was intoxicating. Was Kael shady? Probably. Was the 'package' probably more than just a package? Almost certainly. Could this 'simple escort' turn into a disaster? A high probability. But what were his alternatives? More rejections? Starving in an alley? Trying to pickpocket someone and getting caught by one of those serpent-emblazoned guards? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. "It's a two-person job," Kael broke the silence, as if sensing James's internal struggle. "I handle the scouting, the stealth. You... well, you handle the 'splash' and the water." He gestured again at James's empty belt, then at his own multitude of pouches. "And I have some provisions. Enough for two. Plus, my fee is upfront for you." Upfront payment. That was a tangible offer. Money in his hand, a real meal, perhaps even a chance to buy a proper backpack instead of the flimsy one he’d woken up with. It was a tempting lure. He was a mimic, not a fighter. He had no skills in this world beyond what he’d stolen from Lyra. He was ordinary James from Earth, plunked into a fantasy novel without a cheat code or a hero's destiny. The fear of being ordinary, of being useless, clawed at him. This was a chance, however slim, to prove he wasn't completely helpless. He looked at Kael again. The rogue met his gaze, his hazel eyes unblinking. There was a challenge there, and something else – a hunger not unlike James's own, though Kael’s seemed to be for something less basic than food. Kael wanted something from him, clearly. But James wanted something, too: a chance to survive. He had nothing to lose but his increasingly desperate situation. --- James let out a slow breath. He pushed away the nagging voice of caution, the one that warned him about strangers in dark cloaks and vague jobs. It was drowned out by the louder, more insistent cries of his stomach and the growing despair of his isolation. He had to take it. There was no other choice that didn't end in misery. "Alright," James said, the word feeling heavy on his tongue, committing him to a path he couldn't see clearly. "I'll do it. But I need to know..." Kael cut him off with a bright, almost triumphant smile. It seemed to flash brighter than the dim lantern. "Excellent! I knew you'd be reasonable." He reached into one of his many pouches, pulling out a small, heavy coin purse made of dark leather. It clinked softly as he held it out. "Here's your advance. Enough for a good meal, and a few essentials from the market outside. We leave at first light." James took the purse. The weight of the coins felt alien and wonderful in his palm. He peeked inside. Three silver coins glinted back at him, more money than he’d seen in a long time, definitely more than he’d ever held in a single payment. It was real. This was happening. "Wait, I still don't know what's in the package," James insisted, even as his fingers tightened around the purse. The silver was a compelling argument, but the questions remained. "Or why you picked me. Why not a seasoned adventurer? Someone who actually has gear?" Kael just shrugged, his movements smooth and unhurried despite the sudden rush. He turned to leave, his cloak swirling around him like a midnight current. "Seasoned adventurers ask too many questions. And they usually have their own parties." He glanced back over his shoulder, those hazel eyes sparkling. "Besides, your 'talent' is unique. And conspicuous. Good for a distraction if needed." "A distraction?" James repeated, a new spike of alarm shooting through him. That sounded far more dangerous than simple brigands. What kind of 'package' required a distraction? What kind of trouble was Kael expecting? Kael just chuckled, a low, easy sound that did nothing to soothe James's growing apprehension. He took another step, then stopped, his gaze lingering on James for a moment, a peculiar glint in his eyes. Kael grins, "It's a two-person job, easy money. Just... don't ask too many questions."

A Thief's Proposition