Chapter 92 — Rank D
The formal review came two days after the briefing, called with unusual speed given the guild’s typical bureaucratic pace, and Arlen understood, the moment Mina summoned him to Lyra’s office, exactly why the timing mattered.
"You can’t join a Rank D-recommended expedition as Rank E," Lyra explained, once he’d settled into the familiar chair across from her desk. "Not officially, regardless of your actual capability. The guild’s structure exists for good reason, and I won’t set aside proper procedure even for someone I trust as thoroughly as I’ve come to trust you."
"I understand."
"Fortunately, your record makes this a formality rather than a genuine question." She slid a folder across the desk toward him, thick with accumulated documentation. "Confirmed Awakened. The goblin camp. The timber camp treant. Ironpeak’s rock-hide badger. A confirmed solo kill against a previously undocumented apex predator in the valley expedition, alongside successful escort and survey work stretching as far as Ashford’s Crossing. I’ve reviewed this personally, twice, and I don’t see a single gap worth questioning."
Arlen felt a quiet, genuine satisfaction settle into him, distinct from the anxious anticipation that had carried him through every previous rank review. "Thank you."
"Don’t thank me. You earned this through actual, sustained work, not through my recommendation alone." Lyra made a final notation in the folder, then looked up at him with something warmer than her usual composed evaluation. "Rank D, effective immediately. I’ll have your updated badge processed before the end of the day."
She studied him a moment longer, her expression carrying a weight that suggested more remained unsaid. "I want to be honest with you about something, given everything we’re about to ask of you. Rank D is a significant milestone. It also means the guild now considers you capable of operating at a level where genuine, world-altering danger becomes a realistic possibility, rather than simply an occasional exception. I don’t say that to discourage you. I say it because I think you deserve to understand exactly what this promotion actually represents, beyond the badge itself."
"I understand," Arlen said, and found he meant it more fully than he might have a year earlier, back when Rank D had seemed like a distant, almost abstract goal rather than a genuine, lived reality.
He left her office that afternoon with his updated documentation processed, and found himself, walking through the familiar corridors of the guild hall, turning over the strange, settled weight of finally reaching a milestone he’d once watched from a considerable, humbling distance — Iron Vanguard’s calm competence during the wolf pack mobilization, the first proper glimpse he’d ever had of what real strength actually looked like in practice.
Word spread quickly, as it always did, and Arlen found himself, by that evening, fielding genuine congratulations from across the guild hall’s familiar faces.
"Rank D," Cobb said, genuine delight evident in his expression as he clasped Arlen’s shoulder. "About time, honestly. You’ve been performing above that rank for months."
"Feels different, having it official," Arlen admitted. "Strange, how much weight a simple badge color carries."
Sil, characteristically understated, offered only a small, approving nod, though the warmth behind it carried more than the gesture’s simplicity suggested.
Reya found him later that evening, settling into her usual seat across from him with a bottle of something considerably nicer than the tavern’s usual fare.
"Figured this deserved proper celebration," she said, pouring two modest measures. "Rank D. I remember when you were the nervous rookie we beat to an Emberroot patch by minutes."
"You gave me half your bundles anyway."
"I remember that too." Her sharp smile carried genuine warmth beneath its usual edge. "You’ve come a long way since then, Arlen. Further than I expected, honestly, though I suppose I should have seen it coming from how seriously you took everything, even back then."
"I couldn’t have gotten here without people like you," Arlen said. "The whole guild, honestly. Everyone who took a chance teaching a slum-raised rookie something worth learning."
"Don’t get sentimental on me." Reya’s tone carried genuine affection despite the deflection. "Drink your celebration properly, at least this once."
Fennis joined them partway through the evening, offering her own quiet, genuine congratulations, the easy friendship they’d maintained since their shared time in the northern territory carrying none of the awkwardness either might once have feared.
"Rank D," she said, settling into the conversation with her usual understated directness. "You’re getting closer to leaving, aren’t you. I can see it in how you’re carrying yourself lately."
"I think so," Arlen admitted. "This expedition, whatever comes of it — I suspect it’ll be one of the last major things I do here before I finally use those transfer credentials properly."
"Good," Fennis said, genuine warmth in her expression. "I meant what I said, all those months ago. I’d like to see who you become, once you’ve gone looking for everything you’ve been chasing."
The evening wound down into comfortable, easy conversation, and Arlen found himself, sitting among friends who’d become something close to genuine family across his year in Greyhaven, deeply grateful for the particular warmth of this celebration — not simply the rank itself, but everything it represented about the patient, deliberate life he’d built since first walking through the guild’s doors.
He found Garrett at the training yard the following morning, curious for his instructor’s characteristically blunt perspective on the milestone.
"Rank D," Garrett said, studying him with the same critical, appraising look he’d used since their very first session together. "About time, though I suspect you already know that."
"Lyra said something similar."
"She’s not wrong." Garrett gestured for him to begin their usual warm-up sequence. "This changes some things, going forward. The expedition Garrick mentioned — you’re planning to volunteer, I assume, given everything I know about you."
"I already have."
Garrett nodded slowly, no surprise in his expression, though something more serious settled into his weathered features. "Good. Bad. Both, honestly. You’re ready for it, more ready than most adventurers your age ever manage. But ready doesn’t mean safe, and I want you understanding that difference clearly before you commit fully to whatever this expedition actually demands."
"I understand the difference," Arlen said. "I learned it properly at Millbrook, the first time. I don’t intend to forget that lesson now."
"Good," Garrett said, satisfied. "Then let’s make sure whatever technique you’re carrying into that fight is as sharp as we can make it, in whatever time remains before you leave."
They resumed training with renewed focus, and Arlen found the familiar, grinding discipline of the session settling into him with the same steady, grounding comfort it always provided — not a distraction from the weight of what waited ahead, but a proper foundation for facing it.
He wrote in his journal that evening, the accumulated weight of the day’s celebrations and Garrett’s serious counsel settling into a reflective, forward-looking clarity.
Rank D. Earned properly, through a year and more of genuine, sustained work rather than luck or accident. I think about how far this journey has carried me since that first nervous morning walking through the guild’s doors — a slum-raised boy with nothing but a promise made to himself in another life entirely.
The expedition looms now, closer than it did even a week ago. I understand the danger clearly. I understand, too, that I’ve spent this entire year deliberately preparing for exactly this kind of test, whether I fully realized that was the shape of my preparation or not.
Whatever waits beyond the middle forest boundary, I intend to meet it properly — careful, prepared, and finally strong enough to stand where I once could only watch from a considerable, humbling distance.
He closed the journal, the guild hall’s familiar evening warmth settling comfortably around him, and found himself, gazing toward the darkening horizon beyond his window, filled with the same quiet, patient anticipation that had carried him through every deliberate stage of this remarkable life — closer now, genuinely closer, to finally crossing a boundary he’d once believed impossibly distant.