Chapter 250: Pleasant Conversation

“Do you keep up with the events of the Realm, Guild Master?” Count Drisford casually begins our conversation as he dabs his lips with a napkin, wiping off a few leftover flecks with elegance.

I can’t be sure where he’s going with this, but I don’t see any benefit in lying. “I’m afraid I don’t. Dewhurst doesn’t have a very stable source of news, apart from travelers.”

Then, like a hawk, he pounces and retorts with, “I take it you don’t get very many traveling adventurers in your Guild, then? Otherwise, surely you would be more aware of the world around you.”

Damn, Count Drisford laid that conversational trap completely under my nose. Best to just embrace the accusation. “Yes. Most travelers skip Dewhurst altogether when possible these days. There was a continual slump where adventurers abandoned the Guild, which led to several years where I was mostly unable to work due to my mental health. I fell into a depression, but now everything is on the up and up. These days, several adventurers are working under me once again.”

Without so much as a change of expression, he says, “I’m aware of your mental lapse. I run the financials of this province. For five years, the mayor of Dewhurst has submitted few standard quest reimbursement forms, which we then process and send en masse to the Association.”

“...I’m aware of how the system works.”

“No doubt. Still, you really should find a way to keep up with the world if you truly wish to become a skilled Guild Master. There is much to learn of the Realm these days.”

“Any recent news you could bless me with, Count Drisford? We may as well make conversation.”

“There’s a lot of buzz in the Royal capital these days. No doubt you’ve heard of the missing Crown Princess, Samantha Lundreame?”

“Yes, word of that unfortunate situation has reached my ears...” Despite how hard it is, I keep myself from reacting to this. I don’t think Opalina would have told him that Sam is staying with me, but this could be another trap if she did. “Goddesses willing she’ll be found unharmed. No doubt there are many foul men out there who would do unspeakable, perverse things to a Princess if they got their hands on her.”

“I’ve met her when she was younger. She’ll be alright, that one. The child was a firebrand, from what I remember. Really, the absolute spitting image of her father in his younger days.” I’m not sure how to process that last bit, and I imagine Sam would get mad at such an assertion. “I’m surprised they haven’t checked your Guild yet, actually.”

I almost spit my latest sip of beer. “...Why is that?”

“I see you don’t know your recent history.” His glaring becomes more severe as if he takes this as a slight. “When King Theostus turned eighteen, the first thing he did was escape downriver to Perlshaw and head west to Dewhurst to become an adventurer to escape the oppressive rule of his father, King Lucadeus.”

This new knowledge causes my brain to outright stop processing for an embarrassingly long time. As I dwell on Sam literally repeating her father’s footsteps unintentionally, Count Drisford continues to grow unimpressed. “Guild Master?”

“My apologies, I was just surprised to hear that the King himself was an adventurer in my own Guild and that my grandfather never told me.”

“I suppose that would be rather shocking...” Whether Count Drisford believes my claim or not, he moves on, saying, “Well, on top of the business with the Princess, it was reported that the sacred Great Blade of Rhoivandis Lundreame has disappeared from the palace treasury. Some people believed the Princess stole it when she left, but the time doesn’t match up.”

Ah. Of course. Well, even if she didn’t steal it when she left, Sam has it now... I was wondering what the deal with that new of hers sword was. Gods, Luxy, this better not have made anything more complicated for us. Speaking of, Count Drisford seems intent on making this conversation as tricky for me as possible.

I try to defuse the situation with a light jest, saying, “Is that so? Well, let’s hope that whoever took it gets some use out of it. I’m sure the sword would much prefer that as opposed to gathering dust in a vault somewhere.”

“Hm. Humor.” He almost imperceptibly raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been told I don’t have a knack for such things. You’ll forgive me for my general lack of amusement. I’m afraid it’s chronic.”

“Of course.” Note to self. Avoid attempts at levity.

Count Drisford gives a tired sigh as he thinks more on the topic at hand. “I swear... Arrark has its own problems, but at least it’s not Rhoivan. There’s scarcely a single day that goes by without some new scandal coming out of Imperalis.”

“Are you saying there are there’s still something more beyond the Princess and the sword?”

“If you can believe it, yes. The founder of the Galloise Company just disinherited his young heiress a bit over a week ago.”

“Really? That must have been dreadful for the poor girl.” Thank the Goddesses... finally, a conversational topic that I’m not somehow secretly involved with.

“Indeed, no one even knows why he cast out his daughter, but it caused quite an upheaval. This last week has seen the founder avoiding all serious questions and insisting his family drama will not impact his business... ah, you do know what the Galloise Company is, yes?”

“Certainly. My Guild has a good deal of their arcane tech installed. Lighting, running water, machines for laundry, some kitchen appliances, and several toilets... it was one of the last major investments my grandfather made before he passed.”

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He nods his head, seemingly pleased that I know just a bit of the world outside my Guild. “A wise investment of him. Arcane tech is clearly the future. Despite that, Castle Mourneheart has yet to accrue much of its own, as you can plainly see.” Count Drisford gestures toward the chandelier above us, which still has actual candles instead of magical lighting.

“I think the lighting gives this place a very unique aesthetic charm. Personally, I rather enjoy the castle compared to the rest of the city. I found the marble and the overall shine of the city much too harsh on my eyes.”

Another tiny wriggle of a smile. “Is that so? Well, it matters not... on a different note, I’ve heard from Miss Hart that you’re a true, red-blooded Karnallian male, Guild Master.”

Now there’s a sentence I didn’t expect to come out of the serious Count’s mouth. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. In what way?”

“I hear that you’ve established yourself a harem, much like those of us in the nobility. I have three wives and a mistress, myself.” No doubt they fell in love with Count Drisford’s approachable, warm persona.

“Ah, well, what can I say other than that I’m a man of desires, Count Drisford?”

“You think that makes you special? Show me a man who isn’t motivated by his desires, and I’ll gladly shake his hand.” This gets a small smile out of me, but then, the man goes on to pronounce, “I must admit, I don’t understand how you’ve managed to win Miss Hart’s favor. Forgive me if that sounds rude. It’s only that I’ve known her for quite some time and have never seen the woman take an interest in someone of the opposite sex- much to my widower Duke’s ever-constant dismay.”

“I’m very fortunate, even if I’m unsure why I’m deserving of her love myself. How long exactly do you two go back?” I jump at the thought of learning more about Opalina from an outside source. I’ve never met someone who goes way back with her, so it’s a tantalizing idea. The fact that she’s not present only makes it all the more appealing.

Count Drisford shuts it down fast, though. “It’s not my place to say. Goddesses know how that woman is about her secrets.”

“Indeed, I’ll drink to that.” I give the Count a salute with my tankard of beer, and to my surprise, he returns the toast.

“To women and their secrets,” He insists, raising his glass of whisky to his thin lips and downing it in time with my own sip. After basking in the warmth of his stiff drink, he enounces, “At any rate, congratulations are in order, Guild Master. I find your conversational skills passable, and I’ve determined a good deal of your character through our discussion. There’s no need to continue with this pointless chatter. I know now you are young, ambitious to a fault, somewhat wise yet naive about the Realm as a whole. While my assessment is much more cynical than Miss Hart’s, I don’t disagree that there is potential in you- however slim- to develop further and that you might one day become a larger player in the grander scheme of things.”

“Thank you for your honest assessment. I’m going to take it that’s about the highest compliment one can earn from you?”

“More or less.” The grim Count of Grunlun agrees.

“Glad to hear it. Now that that’s out of the way, when will you allow me to meet with Duke Gloomcrest?” I half-jokingly throw the idea out there to assert that I know exactly what I want.

“Heh,” He laughs hoarsely under his breath without changing his expression. “I only said that I was done sizing up your character. I didn’t say I approved of you meeting the Duke just yet, Guild Master. There’s more to this screening than a simple assessment.”

“Then, by all means, elaborate.”

“The reason you were summoned is that Duke Osbourne Gloomcrest has a series of quests he would like to potentially issue your Guild. We’d been deliberating on which of the Guilds in Arrark to send these out to for a while now. Then, Miss Hart came along right in time to insist it be yours. Give me a damn good reason why it should, and it will be so.”

This much information isn’t new to me, as I already inferred this meeting involved registering quests. Opalina kept saying that if I came to Dawnstead, I’d potentially earn the Guild a lot of money, and I wasn’t expecting the Duke to just hand it over as an investment.

I need more information, though, so I press Count Drisford. “I like what I’m hearing, but may I ask what the quests would entail or their level of difficulty and the rewards at stake?”

“You may not. If you truly want these quests, then you simply need to trust that the Duke would not be miserly with his treasury.”

“So, in other words, all that I need to do is sell my Guild to you, blindly and without knowing the risk of danger?”

“In simple terms, yes. If your conviction isn’t strong enough that you can’t accept the quests without reservations, then we don’t want you. We’ll negotiate with the Dawnstead, Vurgestrom, Roselake, or Crasmere Guilds instead.”

Well, at least he didn’t say Perlshaw, but despite its closeness, Perlshaw is in Rhoivan. Seems they want to keep this problem solely contained to Arrark and its Guilds rather than relying on outside help. I ponder the many different ways I could go about convincing this old, stubborn gargoyle before deciding I need a little something to inspire me further. “Bertrand,” I raise my long emptied tankard, “Another.”

“Absolutely, Sir. Anything to be of use!” Bertrand interrupts his long, silent stint to wrest the tankard from my hands, a dollop of mashed potatoes falling limply to the floor as he runs off to fuel my skill at wordcraft.

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