Chapter 59: Ch.54: Checking In Part II

 

“The needs of Alchemists and Cooks, however uninteresting they were at the time, led to the creation of standardised containers of measurement with the Gold Standard Weight as a reference; it even changed the way spoons were made. Two tablespoons of gold of ninety parts purity for example, make a gold coin and one would have needed about eighty of such spoons to make one gold standard. Merchant scales were also roped into this kind of constructive disruption; it also became the basis for measuring the purity of gold coins in merchant banks to prevent counterfeits. In response to these developments, the smallest subdivision of weight, the quintum, was born. The use of spoons had been so ingrained that most recipes, alchemical and not, featured it as a notation of measuring ingredients.” -Excerpts from Archival Records of the Merchant Guild, Antecian Calendar Year 1220.

---

For a man larger than life and equally prickly in demeanour, Garyson Grizzlythorn was an apt name. His aura was a palpable weight, even on Arthur’s shoulders so much that Gravitas might as well have been his middle name. He was distinguished, not only by virtue of his towering bulk, but also by his scars and wild ginger hair with a braided beard to go with it. Like a viking had walked out of history.

Unlike his subordinates, he had an actual breastplate of enchanted dwarf steel over his brigandine. One of his pauldrons was fashioned after the skull of a hog-like creature. From the tusks sprouting all over its snout like a killer hog from the Nether, Arthur could only surmise it was a grizzly boar. Last but not least, a golden insignia of Aldmoor with tasselled borders sat on his breastplate. It proclaimed his rank in the hierarchy.

Following their uneventful meet-up, the sergeant had appropriated one of the rooms near the aer dock for the express purpose of interviewing him. The walls had the subtle buzz of obfuscation and mage binding enchantments. A golem also loomed by the doorway, a new type that Arthur could guess its function from its make up.

There was a table, two chairs but not a single window to be found. Only a lone chromastone seemed to keep the shadows at bay. It made the room seem smaller than it looked and his aura was so thick it filled the entirety of it. Anyone but Arthur would have found it stifling but he was too preoccupied with how acute his perception of auric fields had gotten. He could even gauge how formidable Garyson was that alone.

‘ Is that how [Analyse] feels like?’ Arthur looked in an impromptu staring down with the bear of a man.

“So,” the guard sergeant prompted gruffly, taking him out of his ruminations. His voice seemed to reverberate off the walls.

“Can you state your name and your relation to the sylvmaiden accompanying you?”

“ Arthur Sturm Löwenmaul, “ Arthur answered calmly. He recognized the bearing of militaristic authority when he saw one. “ I am her betrothed,” he added.

The man looked askance at the truth crystal’s white glow and scratched something with a quill. Arthur surmised that to be the colour for truth.

“ Are you sure that is not a dwarven name?” Garyson murmured.

“ I do not think so. Sounds sylvani to me,” Arthur said. ‘ Is there racism in this world too? Racial panderers and profiling?’ he thought.

“ What is your professional Class and where have you been for the last two nundines?” he asked, not taking his eyes off his yellowed sheaf of parchments.

‘Can they not come up with notebooks?’ “ I am a magical crafter by profession and I do runecrafting. For the last two nundines, I was with my betrothed, studying runecraft.” Arthur replied.

“ Hmm…” Garyson grumbled as the crystal flashed white again. The truth crystal consisted of a marble sized gem embedded into a circular disk with rune workings. Arthur could tell at a glance the flaws in the thing and how he could just tweak it somewhere and the rune workings could collapse on itself. He could even erect a [Null Field] and make it so it failed to perceive however he told the truth.

‘ It’s too easy…’ Arthur thought with a frown. ‘ A trap perhaps. He has a truth scrying skill.’

He did not miss Garyson’s transient smirk.

“ Aside from your bank porting ring, are you in possession of an inventory spatial skill that is larger than 10 cubic metra of ingress or its equivalent in aums?” the man said. Arthur hesitated, pursing his lips in thought.

“ Do I really have to― ugh a non-answer is already an answer,” Arthur grumbled folding his hands.

“ Peace,” Garyson grunted as he noted that down. “ Everything said within these walls is confidential. Unless you have something to hide of course?”

“ Do I?” Arthur didn’t fall for that bait. “ I am a crafter and crafters keep their secrets don’t they?”

The crystal remained inert; it could not react to responses that were in and of themselves, questions.

‘That is a cheap loophole though,’ Arthur observed with a sigh. He didn’t want to have it known that he was hiding a dungeon shard. More than that, he was still on the fence about the magier engine sitting in [Inventory Chest]. It would be too soon for its reveal to the wider Eryth; even he was conservative about showing the hoverboard. The sergeant gave him a weary sigh and scoffed.

“ Are you in possession of any other class, apart from your professional class that may be deemed taboo or associated with skills, magecraft or weapons and artefacts that one might consider cursed? An aye or nay may or its equivalent response may suffice,” Garyson said. He squinted, observing Arthur’s features as if wanting to catch the tiniest microexpression.

“ Nay to the latter and the former,” Arthur said. Once again, the truth crystal turned white. ‘Do they not consider dungeon shards as taboo artefacts?’ Arthur thought. ‘Maybe noone is stupid enough to think about taking one?’

“ Where are you from Arthur Sturm?” he said, steepling his hairy mitts.

“ Sturms Keep,” Arthur answered simply.

“ Family demesne ?” Garyson asked.

“ That is so,” Arthur nodded. It wasn’t a lie per se , just a matter of nuance because of Aeskyre’s status as his progentoress. The crystal blinked white again.

Garyson seemed to contemplate; and then shook his head grumbling something under his breath.

“Hrm. And those are quite some artefacts you are carrying,” Garyson said.

‘Frag, do they have skills that peer into [Inventory] skills too?’ Arthur panicked, suppressing the barest of twitches―

“ Obfuscation and a bank porting ring; haven’t seen the second of those around here. You must be far from home…” he added with a knowing grin. Arthur almost went to relax but settled for rubbing at his face before he responded.

“ Aye. I don’t fancy letting everyone get a feel of my aura everywhere I walk,” he shrugged. “ As for being far from home, I can't say I could help it, I got caught up in a translocation accident and here I am. “

“ So it is true that you eloped,” the sergeant seemed to chuckle as the truth crystal, unerringly pulsed white again. His countenance turned cold. “ It is quite a convenient tale that you are weaving there Arthur Sturm. A translocation incident seems like something the Void Syndicate would be involved in.”

His aura grew in prominence, heavy and cold like a rocky glacier. He felt with his own, a tangible weight that he half expected sparks to start flying. However, it seemed the man’s intimidation tactic did naught―Arthur had stood before a dragon’s auric field so much that he was almost immune to it.

The sergeant’s expression almost seemed to say, ‘ What are you?’ as realisation dawned on him.

“I am afraid I am going to have to tell you to take your rings off and acquiesce to an inspection magic by the golem.”

‘Scat, I should have flinched,’ Arthur left unsaid. “ Hold on, I have no idea who the Void Syndicate are…” Arthur sputtered. Both looked askance at the crystal. It blinked white. “ See?” he motioned

“ Hmph,” the man scoffed. “ Manipulating truth crystals is something you would do. You are a runecrafter are you not? And for all we know, you might be a sleeper.”

‘Frag…and it was going well too,’ Arthur thought suppressing a wince.

“ [Final Warning], Remove.your.rings!” Garyson growled as the table creaked beneath the man’s large hands. Arthur felt a skill being unleashed and Garyson’s presence suddenly doubled. He felt the weight of an iceberg sitting on his shoulders and a cold bead of sweat broke out in his back.

The golem stepped forward.

Danger Sense was screaming at him―

If a fight broke out, only augeo magic could even work within the confines of the room’s dampening walls. That meant that the Sergeant had the advantage; he could draw his arcane pistol but that was just asking for escalation.

‘There are two more cards I can play, “Easy easy…I have something else that can vouch for me,” Arthur said, putting his hand up in pacification.

He caught a glance of the golem’s ocular crystals over the sergeant’s shoulders. It was a different type from the Juggernaut and Jaeger types Arthur had been acquainted with and seemed to have been created with Inspection spells in mind which made it a Sentinel type. In adventurer terms, it was a Watcher to the Defender and Striker.

‘I didn’t do aura training for nothing. A powerful enough expression of aura can be enough to frag up inspection artefacts. Which could just as well be the worst idea, I should have slapped down the vouch of identity and cleared up all this misunderstanding from the get go. I just wanted it to be a hidden ace, but I guess we can’t have everything eh?’ his thoughts whirled.

The guard sergeant tensed his shoulders as Arthur reached for his ring. He flexed his intent on the porting ring and a vouch of identity popped out. It was sealed in an ornate scroll case made from some kind of wood that was pale and light like ivory.

He rolled the scroll case towards the guard sergeant who squinted at it dubiously and picked it up in his large hands. The [Guard Sergeant] popped out the scroll to reveal a sheaf of jade vellum written upon in sylvani calligraphy. The letters seemed to rearrange themselves into Common and he read.

“ Arthur Sturm Lowenmaul; the person aforementioned has been vouched for as an individual of upstanding conduct after a thorough soul scrying and appraisal of his Essentia Chronicon. He has been found not to have any forbidden classes nor any association with…

…there are those who may wish him harm and therefore, he has taken measures to obfuscate his identity, mayhaps to a degree that might seem overmuch to others. As a precaution, they shall not be named. However, he is well positioned to defend himself as well as his betrothed.

He is as he purports, a victim of a translocation accident which culminated in some loss of his memories and hence shall be forgiven for his foreign mannerisms. We have tried to tend to him as best as we could but we deemed it reasonable that he be among his own kind. The sylvmaid he proclaims as his betrothed has also been his [Healer] whereupon their relations blossomed into what they are hence…

He is an astute runecrafter whose erstwhile association with the Crafter’s Grove have been a boon and therefore his professional credentials can be vouched for as well. You will no doubt find him a welcome addition to your fair town…”

The sergeant read the vouch of identity word for word, brows furrowing and flying higher until they threatened to disappear into his hairline.

“Notarised by Court Elder Volemhir Wintersheart,” his voice trailed off as he slumped back in his seat.

“ Eog’s jewels,” the sergeant groaned, kneading the bridge of his nose as he retracted his aura. “ That insufferable greybeard. I can see where this is going and I am half of a mind to run you out of the town at first sight―”

A pit opened at the bottom of Arthur’s stomach. Had it been the wrong decision after all?

“ I care not for politicking; I am not so thick to see what this Elder is getting at,” the sergeant said. He whimsically waved at the air as though wafting off something foul.

“And what might that be?” Arthur asked, feeling his tension drain away despite the fact.

“ Do not patronise me lad!” the sergeant snapped, bashing the table. The truth crystal jumped as Arthur’s words dried in his throat.

Garyson grimaced, shaking his head with a weariness that belied his rugged facade. Then as soon as it appeared, it was gone. His amber eyes suddenly sharpened , giving Arthur the impression of a predator as he squared his shoulders and loomed as if he hadn’t already been looming with his already generous height.

“ The council would have my hide if they heard that I turned away a runecrafter from our fair town,” he said deflating somewhat. “ But make no mistake lad, I’ll run you out the moment you blow something up in this proxy war the long eared and the dirt eaters have been dancing around for ages―”

It was Arthur’s turn to furrow his brows.

“ Hold on a moment,” he butted in. “You knew?!”

It was a safe question.

The sergeant shrugged his broad shoulders and snorted, “ You don’t run a town in the frontier for as long as I have without knowing a thing or two. Not that the merchant’s council would care about you unless their coffers are concerned; I’d rather call them trussed up gamblers.”

“ So the merchants?” Arthur prompted.

“ Only care about their gold . Do they care about a proxy racket on their turf? No, that is what they pay me for; However, some of them are in the know. I’ve always known a day would come that things could be skewed either way and I have grown weary of it. Nonetheless, if could finally put some unsolved mysteries to rest I am all for it,” the sergeant said as he pushed back his chair. There seems to be layers of implication in that statement.

‘Of course he’d know about Ascal Cornierva’s debacle,’ Arthur sighed inwardly as he stopped it from showing it on his face.

‘Is he implying that I can have a go at the house and try my luck with it because he knows the wards will keep me out? If it turns out I am not the first to try and retrieve whatever it is Ascal kept―’ Then it dawned on him . A grimace broke past the veneer of his indifference.

“ Hoh, finally you come around. Thought the long eared greybeard was being benevolent for the sake of it?” the sergeant scoffed. “ I would eat mine own beard if that were the case.”

“Though, I’ll tell you one thing that I’ve always told anyone who wants to dare Old Cornierva’s house. If you do find a way in, be wary of the dwarves.” he paused, letting the words hang with an air of foreboding.

“ It is an open secret that they do not take kindly to competitive interests. Whatever it was that Old Ascal had to disappear for must be worth more than crowns if the house is warded tighter than their vaults. The merchants might also turn their eyes your way if Mother forbid, you manage to make it inside,” the sergeant grinned toothily. He made it sound as if Arthur was doing him a favour by being the centre of attention for what, he didn’t know.

“ Am I free to go now?” Arthur asked. He’d had enough; he needed some air and a moment to himself.

“ Hrm,” Garyson grunted. “ Tis rare for the Guild’s Quartermastresse to vouch for someone. Which means I might see you joining the Guild.”

“ It is not set in stone,” Arthur snorted. He was not ready to be beholden to an overarching authority.

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“ Best think about it,” Garyson grinned. “ Takes care of most quillwork and I would do it if I were you. Open carrying of cold and enchanted weapons is only allowed with a permit from the Guard or display of an adventurer’s medallion. Spells and other magical workings above tier 3 are strictly forbidden and any arcane armaments must be inspected by a Guard or Guild sanctioned appraiser. Legendary and Relic tier weapons must be catalogued with the Guard for clearance; unless you are part of the Guild―see where I am going?”

“ Liability and disclosure ?” Arthur muttered. “ Damn,” he swore.

“ Aye, we can do naught about forcing you to retrieve such artefacts from your porting ring, but even the Túran Dh’rydian bank has its due diligence so I would not worry overmuch,” the sergeant chuckled.

“ But for your inventory and whichever artefacts you have within, I would recommend that you endear yourself with the Guild. The vouch of identity is not enough. Otherwise, hmm, the second best appraiser at hand is someone working for Yondouk’s emporium,” he said with a knowing grin. With that, the sergeant motioned for the golem to exit and he followed on its tail soon after.

“ Well frag,” Arthur swore as he was left to stew with that revelation.

‘That was just plain indifference,’ Arthur thought. ‘ They know that the Runecrafter’s house has something valuable but not what which means they might have tried to no success. The sergeant also knows Ascal’s disappearance as having something to do with it. They are as much as anyone in the dark which means, I still know what it is that Ascal keeps in there. Or, the greybeard,’ Arthur shook his head as he retrieved the scroll tube.

‘ Yes the greybeard wanted me to think that―well played oldie, well played. He planned for this all along; Sergeant didn’t even question me about what I knew because he expects me to fail.’

Arthur palmed the notched disc that was the keystone in his pocket and stood up to exit the interrogation room. With that new information, he was hesitant to immediately make a beeline for Ascal Cornieva’s house. He needed to talk to Nora about it.

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Arthur squinted as his eyes adjusted to the low lighting in the dreary hallway. Wide arched and open windows let in the light to the old installation; the customs building had been an old guard outpost from the days Aldmoor was just starting up and had been repurposed after newer, taller town walls had gone up.

The room they were in had just been one of many inside the wall that overlooked the docking plaza one storey below. The morning mist had faded away and the weather ahead promised clear blue skies with minimal overcast for the day.

Arthur took a deep breath, catching a whiff of just about the myriad concoction of civilization. He had no reference for what a human town smelled like but the scents were welcome. Being in a room with the Sergeant had been stuffy.

He looked past the arched windows and the docking plaza was still as busy as he had left, although the Guilders were nowhere to be found and only the Guards seemed to be around, some off-duty and in sheds around the place.

Muldyr and brunhorn wagons were being loaded from the three aersloops that seemed to have come in after the Rustflint. Despite having the same airframe, they were as distinct from one another as the names emblazoned on their hulls.

Eyeballing, Arthur put the estimate of the ships between 20 metra and 25 metra, at the upper deck and around 6 metra of beam at the waist. They had two pairs of main sails back-sweeping like a beetle in flight. Where the wing sails left an open space for the helmsman to see by were the conical mizzenmast meant to catch more wind for steering.

Where a waterline would be, were the rudder sails, two like wings and one jutting straight down. It was the steamvanes that gave him pause. They were made of stiff leather and looked more like the ones from a model of an Archimedes flying machine. A crankshaft ran from their weather beaten and bird-kill abraded hulls to their nacelles. And they pointed forwards instead of backwards like wind turbines.

“ Mage-Crafter Arthur Sturm?” A duo of guards in brigandine came to a stop as they saluted him deferentially . It took a moment for it to register that he had to get used to that form of address.

“Ah, that’ll be me, guardsmen. How can I help you?” Arthur responded with a raised brow. He didn’t remember the sergeant saying anything about an escort after he left with the golem in tow. The two nervous guards winced as though Arthur was intimidating.

“ At the behest―” the older of the guards stuttered. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose and the beginnings of a beard fuzz. “ At the behest of the [Guard Sergeant] we have been charged with escorting you to your companion the Guild.”

‘ Just how long ago was Nora was cleared?’ Arthur frowned. The guards flinched as he schooled his expression. They were shorter, Arthur observed —younger, he amended that. Arthur realised was the one who had grown taller and being among the tall sylvani had skewed his perception of height.

Both of them were hardly out of their teens and their gallic helmets and brigandines seemed ill-fitting as if they were just fresh out of guard training. They had blackjacks like one of those police batons and wands holstered on the utility belts that secured their brigandines. Shiny whistles dangling from their necks.

“ By all means, lead the way,” Arthur motioned.

“ Right away Ser!” the two said almost too enthusiastically, voices cracking as they pivoted and led him towards the exit. Arthur had to stifle a laugh. Were mages that feared, or was it the artefacts and way of dress that had him coming off as someone important?

However, Arthur looked at it from another angle and scowled. The young guards were just the sergeant’s way of saying that they would have their eyes on him even if the escort was just green behind the ears. Something must have been going on in the town if their ranks were spread thin to give him grunts.

Shaking such thoughts from his mind, they descended the stairs and emerged into the lower floor of the docking complex. The first floor was for clerical work and there, couriers picking up letters and smaller cargo for delivery and a loading bay beyond where wagons had backed into the building.

He crushed the urge to notice the dockyard hands, wagon drivers and couriers rubbernecking him as his escort took the foremost exit they came to. Passing underneath the tunnel with murderholes on the side, they emerged into a side street between the walls of the dock complex and a wall of wrought iron.

‘Let me raise Nora,’ Arthur thought as he rummaged through his pockets for the sylvani telecry and clipped it on his ear. He followed his escort onto the pavement on the other side, and watched a muldyr wagon canter past which put the brick and wrought iron fence that was about as thick as pikes to his right.

His attention was drawn to the guard barracks and a large training field with guard cadets, dressed in drab tunic and practice armour doing drills under the watchful eyes of their proctors. It reminded him eerily of a training academy aged backwards in time and given a fantasy-eque flair. There was even a literal gauntlet that took up an entire yard in the middle of a circuit that the cadets run.

The feeling of a tenuous thread he could connect with his mind was brought to the fore of his consciousness. He needed only to articulate his intent to speak to her.

‘Nora? Arthur telecast, as he followed the cobbled lane to a portcullis being raised for the wagon’s passage. He saw the main street, bustling with foot and cloven traffic over the guard’s relatively shorter stature.

‘Arthur?’ Nora’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘ Blight, I am sorry. I meant to hail you but I got swamped with things. I am helping physicians treat the wounded. More bloodbane poisoning it seems,’ Nora said.

Arthur faltered and almost whisper-shouting in his inner voice ‘ What in the blue Nora, did you forget that your magical aura manifests during skill use?!

'And you're overreacting Arthur, only you can see my aura when I use my [Blood Arts]—a quirk of your heritage perhaps?” she voiced. But just incase, I took your light goggles—”

‘Huh,’ Arthur goggled what light goggles he was talking about then it dawned on him. She'd taken his sunshades. Arthur choked a laughter almost startling a guardsmen. The sounds of rattling wagons, cantering hives and the din of the morning’s throng percolated between the grates of the portcullis as they drew closer.

‘ Ah, then I was worried for nothing’ Arthur paused to contemplate.

‘Hmm~' Nora remarked in a sing-song voice. Even over the telepathic connection, she was excited; an almost different persona—almost.

'Anyway, I was just hailing ahead to see where you were,’ Arthur put across. ‘ I have an escort from the guard sergeant here.’ Arthur’s escort looked over their shoulders as if unsure whether their ward was following. They headed to a smaller gate abutting the portcullis, evidently reserved for foot traffic.

’I am at the infirmary at the Adventurers Guild—I thought I heard that one of their clerks was sent to get you but they're spread thin back here,’ Nora said. ‘ Regardless, I am done for now ; maybe we can catch some pre-noon repast somewhere? Margaery offered to help us settle in.’

‘Ah…yeah,’ Arthur winced, dreading the Ahrakni's company. ’ Give me a few pars and I’ll be right there.’

‘The Adventurers Guild sticks out like a sore thumb; you won’t miss it,’ Nora added. Arthur hummed letting the link fade away as his attention turned to the guard post.

‘Right, don’t want to get run over by a wagon,’ he thought. Another seasoned guard, less jumpy and actually bored pulled back the gate and the two escorts immediately crossed to the other side. Arthur paused outside the gate to take in the streets.

The roads were not narrow, unpaved or muddy. Nor was there the smell of dung wafting in the air from the cloven and clawed traffic plying the thoroughfare. But the structures of the Sojourners’ Quarter showed age, albeit in a graceful way.

The petrified half-timber and painted over walls of ashrock, sometimes in pastel yellows, apricot and blue exuded the postcard ambience of mediaeval a town in England.

Most of the architecture consisted of an older style than those of the dwarven port . The Most three storey building housed shopping galleries, inns and taverns. A few had filigree glass fronts to display wares but he noticed that most glass windows were higher up on the first floor where overhangs and balconies overlooked the streets below.

The streets had chromastone lampposts distributed equidistantly along the pavements , along with an interpersement of willow-like trees that kept the dust and heat down. The most notable feature of the route they were walking was Vylora’s Hearth of Steeds and Draughts that also seemed to be part of the same repurposed complex as the dock’s plaza.

There were a lot of taverns and eateries like the Bottomless Barrel, the Hexed Pot, Brass Stove and so on. Most of their patrons were adventurers and Arthur inferred that the Guild building was not so far off. In fact, he caught sight of it right about where the thoroughfare split into the first of the ring-like boulevards he’d seen from the air.

---

As Nora had said, the Guild building stuck out like a sore thumb, more so than the wagon wheel toting facade he’d seen of Vylora’s Hearth of Steed and Draughts. Arthur beheld the Guild’s insignia sitting beneath the decapitated head of a marsh bauchcraptor. It resembled a cross between a frilled-neck lizard and an angler fish. The Guild’s insignia was a shield, crossed by a trio of a bow from the top right, a sword from the top left and a bejewelled stave in the middle.

The entrance was like the architect had built a castle and then halfway through its gatehouse, decided to mash a castle keep to its barbican.

Two crenellated wings of towers abutted the main structure of sombre grey stone giving the building an Elizabethan feel. Arthur and his entourage walked past the frontage that was just enough to park a dozen wagons, or muster hundreds of adventurers.

On entry, the first thing Arthur saw was that the floor was covered in wood shavings. Prudent,given that adventurers would trail mud, blood and other unmentionables and were not exactly known for cleaning up after themselves. The space was as big as a ballroom and broken up by columns holding the lighting fixtures.

Five counters took up the wall across from the lobby, leaving space for a wide doorway on the left. Arthur could see the passageway and a staircase past that. The left right wall had pin ups of job slips and bounty slips while the left was a wall of fame or so the nameplate said.

The strong stench of alcohol, grime and days’ old sweat was a tangible almost smothering presence that would have sent him reeling but Arthur had smelled worse.

Round tables were occupied by a motley of adventurers, a riot of colours, races, gear and weapons. They sat on ale barrel chairs, both with backrests and without nursing half empty steins, empty bottles and long faces. A few were slumped over, while others looked on in a daze.

More palpable than that was a dreary atmosphere in the lobby; more people conversed in hushed tones as though they were at a wake. A closer observation showing that the overall mood was of anticipation as most gazes were directed towards the doors on the right of the counters.

‘Guess that is where the infirmary is eh?’ Arthur mused.

However, given his company, it was enough to draw attention from those who seemed to have abstained from their drinks. Several scowls, grumbles and clicks were sent his way. Someone even murmured ‘jumped up titled ponce’ or something along those lines and spat contemptuously. It helped that he was the one that stood out the most otherwise his escort looked ready to bail.

Tension jumped up a notch as the guards froze, hands immediately going to their wands and blackjacks. The adventurers and the Guard were not on the best of terms or so it seemed.

Arthur placed both of his hands on their shoulders. One of them almost jumped a foot in the air.

“It’s not worth it,” he said, shaking his head. “ I think the two of you have done your job admirably.”

“ As you say Ser,” both stammered in unison, straightening their backs.

“ Is your objective not fulfilled then?” He looked between the two guardsmen. One of them gulped and looked like he wanted to say something.

“ Hmm? Go on,” he prodded him.

“ Sarge,” he cleared his throat, as though correcting himself “ Sergeant Grizzlythorn mentioned that we acquire an attestation of your association with the Guild.”

Arthur drew himself up, letting an almost indiscernible sigh.

‘ I take it back. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the Guild and the Guard’s honcho’s are in cahoots,’ Arthur mused.

“ Very well then, let me talk to someone important.” Arthur muttered. He left the two guards to trail after him as he pulled up to one of the counters. There were five counters, of which only two was being attended to. One of the Guild clerks was a peppy human girl with wheat blonde hair that curled into ringlets about her temples while the other was a bookish teenager with chestnut brown hair and glasses.

It was the girl who came to attend to Arthur. She had blue, almond shaped eyes and a button nose, a round face with cherub cheeks and looked just about to be on the cusp of young adulthood.

“Hail and well met ,” she saluted with a disarming smile. “ How may I help you, good Ser?” Her demeanour was like a breath of fresh air to the morose atmosphere of the Guild.

“Er,” Arthur cleared his throat. “ I am here to see Quartermastresse Isignel—”

“Ah…are you Master Löwenmaul perchance?” She asked, clapping her hands in realisation. Her countenance brightened even further; her colleague looked up from the quillwork he was doing. The guild's murmurs suddenly died down. Arthur winced, as he felt even more attention burning holes on his back.

“ That’ll be me,” Arthur muttered with a plasticky smile. “ Is there something on my face?” Arthur asked, pointing to himself in befuddlement.

“ Ah, profuse apologies― my name is Hanna Lalilab,” she said, ducking her head as, realised she’d been staring at Arthur goggle-eyed. She blushed like a ripe tamarillo.

“ Mastresse Isignel is currently engaged but she said to wait for her when you make your appearance― ” she hastily added. “ Ah, and a sylvmaiden [Healer] said to take you to her once you made your appearance. Please follow me―”

Raising his hand to the ear cuff, Arthur looked askance at his escort and motioned them to follow.

‘ Nora, I am here…’ he telecast.

‘Ah, Arthur…’ Nora replied, almost hesitating. ‘ I meant to tell you earlier. There are dwarves from the Dreimarch within the premises.’

‘ Of course there are, aren’t there?’ Arthur thought, as they trailed after the Guild Clerk.

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