As the young man watched the rehearsal from the podium in the left corner of the restaurant, a petite waitress approached with a delicate stride. Her hair was a soft chestnut, pulled into a high ponytail, and her warm brown eyes gleamed as she placed the colorful plate in front of him. "Your special combo, Shrimp-Lobster, Sir," she said with a polite smile.
He looked up, offering a gentle smile in return. "Thank you," he said, his voice low. The girl smiled back, a little more bashful this time, before retreating toward her fellow waitresses, who had been stealing glances his way.
He glanced over at them, catching their smiles before his attention returned to the dish in front of him. The plate was an artful presentation: large, perfectly grilled shrimp skewered alongside a bright red lobster tail stuffed with a golden, crispy crust. A side of seared scallops added to the luxurious seafood trio, laid out atop a bed of fresh greens. The scent was intoxicating—a mixture of ocean breeze and savory butter, with a faint hint of garlic that made his stomach tighten in anticipation.
Picking up his fork, he gently sliced into the lobster, taking his first bite. The succulent meat was tender, buttery, and flavorful. He nearly let out a moan but caught himself, chewing slowly to savor the moment. "He wasn't wrong for suggesting I check this combo," he whispered to himself. "It's divine."
The shrimp, equally delectable, was crisp on the outside with a smoky char from the grill, the taste of the sea still present in every bite. He smiled, remembering how these delicacies had been fished from the Parting Sea that morning. This place, known for centuries for its seafood mastery, always had the freshest ingredients, delivered daily from the sea, and had perfected the art of cooking them to perfection. It was an art passed through generations.
As the artist rehearsed on the stage, the sound of their performance filled the space. He continued to eat, thoroughly absorbed in the meal. The combination of flavors danced on his palate, from the briny sweetness of the scallops to the rich, buttery lobster. Before he knew it, the plate was empty.
He leaned back, considering going for another round. Just as the thought crossed his mind, one of the waitresses—the same one who had served him—approached. "Would you like a refill, sir?" she asked with a soft smile.
For a moment, he was tempted, but remembering the tasks ahead of him, he shook his head. "That'll be all for me," he said, pulling a Cleor coin from his pocket and placing it in her hand. "That being said, I'm sure I'll be back tonight, so could you leave some more for me and have a room ready? This should cover everything. You can keep the change."
"Thank you, sir," she replied, her cheeks flushed with gratitude.
He poured himself a final glass of water, then stood up, reaching for his sword, "Trouble"—an accessory that didn't quite match his fancy outfit for the day. His attire was sleek and refined, a far cry from his usual knightly garments, but even on a day like today, he couldn't bear to part with the weapon.
"Sorry for this," he said, slightly embarrassed. "I can't separate myself from it."
"It's alright," the waitress replied, shaking her head. "Adventurers and handlers do that all the time."
"I see," he said with a chuckle.
"You're an adventurer, right, sir?" she asked curiously.
He nodded in confirmation, to which her eyes widened. "Wow, so it's true! You're really an adventurer, even though you're so young!"
At her comment, he chuckled again. "Appearance can be very deceiving," he said, a subtle warning. But before she could dwell on his words, he added, "Anyway, miss, I'm in a bit of a hurry. We can talk more when I return this evening."
With that, he turned and made his way toward the exit, where Seraphina, his horse, was tied to a beam. He mounted her in one swift motion, casting a final glance back at the establishment—the Seagull's Nest—before urging Seraphina to head toward the portuary corner of the coastal city of Mirriandelle.
The salty sea breeze blew through his seaweed-red hair, which wasn't long, but long enough for the wind to play with it as they rode. In less than six minutes, he reached the bustling port, where ships were either arriving from or departing to the other side of the Parting Sea or heading upriver toward the land of the elves. The smell of salt and the sound of waves filled the air as he guided Seraphina toward a quieter part of the port.
There, overlooking the sea, stood a building with a welcoming courtyard, shaded by palm trees swaying in the breeze. The building itself was old yet regal, made of red brick with large windows and intricate architectural details that gave it a dignified charm. Above the entrance hung a large wooden sign, depicting a hand passing an envelope to another, with the words "L&L Postal Company" engraved on it.
Dismounting, he entered the building, where the atmosphere was far more bustling than outside. The interior reminded him of an Adventurer's Guild, with several guichets attended by beautiful receptionists. However, instead of adventurers, the clientele consisted of people from all walks of life—merchants, commoners, and even those dressed in attire suggesting they belonged to higher castes. Couriers, dressed in uniforms bearing the company’s emblem, bustled around with satchels, carrying piles of letters and packages.
He exchanged a glance and a nod with the main receptionist at the large central guichet, who instantly recognized him. Without a word, he made his way up to the second floor, where the VIP rooms awaited. Beside the entrance to the room that interested him, a young man sat crouched, playing with a small cat. His charming appearance and the oddly genuine, amused expression on his face made for an intriguing contrast. Tousled brown hair fell across his forehead, some strands tucked behind his ears, and his white-gloved hand gently patted the cat.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Noticing his presence, the young man slowly turned toward him. "You're late," he said, his voice light but carrying an air of expectation.
"Sorry," he replied with a soft shrug.
The young man stood up, his movements graceful as he adjusted his red scarf, the long coat he wore swaying slightly. His playful gaze gave way to a calmer, more composed demeanor.
"Am I the last?" he asked, his tone steady.
The young man nodded.
"I see," he responded, glancing at the door before him.
Without another word, the young man opened the door, allowing him to enter first before following closely behind. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and the room revealed itself just as he had left it a couple of hours ago, the air thick with aged elegance.
The space was adorned with intricately carved wooden paneling that framed a massive fireplace in the far corner. Dark wooden bookshelves lined the walls, brimming with tomes of every size and color, their spines glinting faintly in the ambient light. The earthy scent of old books mixed with the lingering warmth from the hearth, creating an atmosphere of wisdom and tradition. It was just as he’d left it a couple of hours ago. But something was different.
As he stepped into the room, he immediately felt it—a skill applied to the entire space. [Spatial Lock]. The entire room had been sealed from the outside world, however there was no concern on his face, as he knew well who had cast the spell. Casting a brief glance at the young man now closing the door behind him, he refocused his attention on the scene before him.
In the center of the room, six plush chairs were arranged in a loose circle, upholstered in deep burgundy velvet. The chairs’ polished wooden arms and legs glowed warmly, matching the room's deep hues. Each chair faced slightly inward, creating a sense of intimacy among the occupants. The moment the door opened, all eyes turned to him and the young man.
Three of the chairs, which had been unoccupied when he left earlier to explore the city, now held familiar and unfamiliar figures. In one sat a woman with sharp, discerning eyes, her posture so perfect it seemed almost unnatural. Her long, bluish hair cascaded down her back, and her hands rested calmly on her lap. Beside her sat two men: one with a stern, chiseled face, his hands resting firmly on his knees; the other, broad-shouldered and silent, watched through golden-rimmed glasses, his deep-set eyes following his every move.
In the far corner of the room, across from the entrance, stood a tall, imposing man with golden hair and lapis-colored eyes. His presence commanded the very air in the room, though it was softened by the small silver-haired girl clutching his arm, her face hidden against the sleeve of his priestly white robe. The chandelier overhead cast a beam of light directly onto them, as all the windows in the room, like the door, were tightly closed.
Noticing the gazes upon him, he approached the group calmly and offered an apology. "I'm sorry for making you all wait; I didn't mean to."
The man in the priestly robes offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We know."
The man was the one who had suggested he spend some time outside since he had arrived earlier than the others. It was he who recommended the Seagull’s Nest, and in hindsight, if he had just gone straight there, he might have returned earlier. Instead, he had wasted too much time exploring Mirriandelle, lingering at the city's central fountain, a place where their meetings were once usually held.
"In fact, you arrived at the perfect time," the man in a priestly robe continued, motioning to an empty seat next to the young man who had opened the door. "But before you take your seat, how about you introduce yourself? One among us has yet to meet you."
The woman with bluish hair seized him with quiet curiosity as the man in priestly gestured toward her. He nodded in agreement and hesitated briefly before speaking.
"Alright." It felt strange to introduce himself under these circumstances, especially considering the fact that they had all once been the same person. "Ladies," he began, his voice measured, "gentlemen, I am known in this world as Licht, commonly—if unfortunately—monikered as Lonely Light. I am an S-ranked adventurer." He glanced at each of them, smiling softly. "But that is how the world knows me. You, my brothers and sisters, may know me better as Dungeon Master 05."
There were nods of recognition from his fellow Dungeon Masters, those he had already encountered in this incarnation, and an acknowledging glance from the one he had yet to meet.
"Alright then," Lucius began again, gesturing to the young man beside him. "Since you've introduced yourself, allow me to reintroduce everyone." He pointed to the young man. "This is Dungeon Master 02—you already know him."
Next, he indicated the man with the stern face. "Dungeon Master 01, whom you met in person thirty years ago."
"And over there is Dungeon Master 11—someone you also already know." The broad-shouldered man with glasses whom he pointed to, gave him a nod.
Lucius’s attention then shifted to the woman. "This is Dungeon Master 12. You two have yet to meet, but I’m sure you remember what I told you about her."
"I do," he replied with a nod, exchanging a brief glance with her.
Patting the head of the silver-haired girl at his side, Lucius added, "This is not your first time meeting her, but still... This is Dungeon Master 14, officially known as Ramia, my adopted daughter." He smiled down at the girl, who still clung tightly to his robe.
"And as for me," he continued, straightening his posture, "I am Dungeon Master 07, currently Lucius, Paladin Custodian of the Býg'mæk Faith, and I am the one who requested this impromptu summons."
He—namely Licht or Dungeon Master 05 finally took his seat as Lucius motioned for him to do so. Once settled, Lucius spoke again. "I am very thankful that you all managed to respond to my call. I’m sure you’re all asking yourselves what could be so important that I couldn’t simply inform you through letters. Well, I will answer that question right away."
Lucius’s tone shifted, becoming more serious. "I was recently visited by Dungeon Master 13, who informed me of the death of Dungeon Master 10."
The atmosphere grew tense.
As Dungeon Masters, they did not concern themselves with death as native of this world did, but the news of a fallen Dungeon Master still stirred something akin to curiosity. Licht, in particular, felt a twinge of curiosity, knowing little about Dungeon Master 10. Dungeon Master 10 like Dungeon Master 13 whom he just mentioned, operated on different continents, and as such their paths never once crossed. Which is why this death piqued his curiosity more than anything else, especially considering the fact that Dungeon Master 10 had quite a reputation for possessing a powerful vessel.
The first question came swiftly from one of the other Dungeon Masters. "What happened?"
Lucius exhaled slowly. "Well, gentlemen, let me begin with this," he said, his voice steady, "a new Authority has been discovered."