TheShingPen
The Cursed Quest
Zarin followed Guild Master Ordan to the large quest board, overwhelmed by many pinned requests. Each parchment bore unfamiliar symbols—completely foreign to him, given that he couldn’t read the writing of this world. Feeling too embarrassed to admit his illiteracy, Zarin bluffed his way through, hoping no one would notice his hesitation.
He scanned the board quickly, heart racing as he tried to look like he was making an informed decision. Fortunately, the requests had bronze or silver symbols showing their rank, helping him avoid picking a quest beyond his level. Before anyone could question him, Zarin randomly grabbed one of the bronze-rank requests.
Ordan glanced at the quest Zarin had pulled from the board and blinked. For a moment, the Guild Master stared at Zarin, his usual jovial expression replaced by confusion. Then, as if something had clicked, Ordan’s face twisted into an amused grin. He let out a deep, hearty laugh, clapping Zarin on the back so hard that it nearly knocked him over.
“Hah! Lad, I should’ve expected this from you!” Ordan chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye as he continued laughing. The few adventurers nearby paused, glancing between Ordan and Zarin, wondering what was so funny.
Zarin blinked, feeling a wave of unease. “Uh… what’s so funny?” he asked, unsure whether to be concerned or insulted.
Ordan finally composed himself, still shaking his head in disbelief. “That quest you picked, lad—it’s not just any quest. It’s been up there for five years. No one’s completed it.”
Zarin’s stomach dropped. Five years?
“Five years,” Ordan repeated, still grinning. “And not because it’s dangerous, mind you. Oh no, nothing like that. No monsters, no deadly traps.”
Zarin frowned, looking down at the parchment in his hand. “Is there then something secret that isn’t on the request?” he bluffed, hoping to learn more.
Ordan leaned in, still smirking. “Not really. As the request says, you must find the cure for an ailment that’s plagued a woman all this time. The poor woman seems to suffer for as long as most can remember, and her young daughter put out the request years ago to find a cure for her mysterious illness.”
Zarin felt a knot form in his stomach. “So… no one’s found a cure after all that time?”
“No one has,” Ordan said with a chuckle. “Plenty of adventurers have tried, mind you. Some of the kingdom’s finest, too. But the quest remains incomplete. Every adventurer who’s taken it has returned empty-handed, unable to find the source or a cure. And some…” Ordan trailed off, his grin fading slightly.
“Some do what?” Zarin asked, his curiosity tinged with concern.
“Well,” Ordan said, rubbing his chin, “those that don’t come back empty-handed tend to meet some rather… unfortunate ends. Not directly because of the quest itself—like I said, there’s no inherent danger in trying to find the cure—but everyone who’s tried seems to run into a streak of terrible luck. Accidents, madness, disappearances… you name it. And after all these years, it’s become a cursed task.”
Zarin felt the blood drain from his face. Accidents? Madness?
“But if the quest is so dangerous,” Zarin asked, his voice laced with confusion, “why is it ranked as a Bronze quest? Given everything that’s happened, it sounds like something that should be higher up.”
Ordan chuckled, clearly expecting the question. “Aye, that’s what most people think at first. But here’s the thing—some doctors and healers who’ve taken on the quest reported they found nothing wrong with the woman physically. According to them, she’s perfectly healthy, which is why the quest hasn’t been bumped up in rank. It’s a mystery more than anything. No one’s found a physical illness, and there’s no real danger tied to the job itself.”
Zarin raised an eyebrow. “So, the Guild just keeps it on the board? For five years?”
Ordan shrugged. “The request came from the woman’s daughter, a sincere plea for help. The Guild doesn’t want to reject something like that outright, especially when there’s a chance, however slim, that the woman could actually suffer from something undiagnosed. And sometimes, adventurers take it to test their luck. They think maybe they’ll be the ones to find the cure. After all, not every quest is about slaying monsters or facing danger—some are about helping people in other ways.”
Zarin swallowed, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread. “So… you’re saying people still take it, even knowing its history?”
“Occasionally,” Ordan replied, scratching his beard. “It’s mostly seen as a long shot, though. No one’s found anything, and some think the whole thing’s just an exaggeration. But the accidents? That’s enough to give some people pause. That’s why you’ve got to be careful. It’s not the quest itself—it’s what happens after you start it.”
Zarin felt a sinking sensation in his chest. Great. Just my luck.
Ordan, still smirking, clapped Zarin on the back again, though a bit more gently this time. “Well, lad, you’ve picked it now! Unless you want to swap it out for something simpler.”
For a moment, Zarin considered it. I could admit I don’t know what I’m doing and grab a different quest. But his pride—and the fact that the Guild Master and other adventurers were watching—kept him from backing down. He forced a weak smile. “No, I’ll… I’ll stick with it. I’m sure I can figure it out.”
Ordan raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by Zarin’s resolve. “You’re a braver man than most, lad. I’ll give you that.”
The Guild Master handed the quest parchment to one clerk, who recorded it under Zarin’s name, officially assigning the task to him. A few adventurers in the hall whispered amongst themselves, likely wondering if Zarin was mad to take on the infamous “cursed” quest.
“Best of luck, Zarin,” Ordan said with a grin. “You’ll need it.”
Zarin nodded, trying not to let the panic show on his face. Yeah, luck. Good thing I’ve got that in spades. Right?
As Zarin walked away from the quest board with Ordan’s laughter still ringing in his ears, the reality of what he had just done settled in. A quest that has yet to be completed in five years? His stomach churned with anxiety as he clutched the parchment in his hand. He still couldn’t read it and did not know what he’d gotten himself into.
Just as Zarin’s thoughts began to spiral, a familiar, glowing notification window appeared before his eyes.
————————————————————
Quest: A Cure for Lady Mariel
Objective: Find a solution for Lady Mariel’s ailment.
Reward: Random Trait Token
————————————————————
Zarin blinked at the window, relief flooding through him. Finally! Something I can actually understand!
He sighed quietly, grateful that the notification window had appeared. “Why didn’t you show up earlier when I first picked up the quest?” Zarin muttered under his breath. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. He only saw the notification window after he officially signed the quest, leaving him in the dark when he needed it the most.
Still, Zarin felt slightly relieved as he studied the information before him. No time limit or looming deadline. And, to his surprise, there were no “known complications.” That was the only part that struck him as strange, given what Ordan had said about the quest of driving adventurers to madness or causing bizarre accidents.
‘No complications?’ Zarin thought, frowning slightly. ‘Maybe the system doesn’t know about all the accidents? But I heard about them before the notification, so that can’t be it. It may only enlist immediate dangers?’ He shook his head, knowing there wasn’t much point in overthinking it now. If the system saw nothing dangerous, that was a good sign—probably.
“I could’ve used this window earlier,” he muttered again, glancing back at the Guildhall where Ordan had been laughing. “But I guess it only appears after I officially accept the quest.”
He felt slightly more confident. The notification simplified things: no immediate danger, no rush, and no need to panic. It’s not a death sentence… and it doesn’t seem urgent. I just need to figure out what’s wrong with this Lady Mariel.
With the quest officially logged and the notification window closing before him, Zarin squared his shoulders and walked out of the Guild. The weight of the bronze badge on his chest reminded him of what he had to prove—not just to the Guild, but to himself.