Chapter Four Hundred and Thirty-Eight - Return of the Bun

“Haha! You’re here!”

I found myself grinning at the welcome. The Exploration Guild was just as I remembered. A big room with a huge fireplace, shelves laden with artifacts, a well-stocked bar, and of course, a multitude of old men and women sitting around and not doing very much exploring.

At this rate, it might have been more accurate to call it the Old Gossips’ Guild. But that would have maybe been a bit rude.

“Hi Uncle,” Awen said with a bob of her head.

Abraham hopped out of his seat and was across the room in a blink. My friends and I cowered back into the entranceway, but that didn’t matter. Abraham was upon us... and then he was gone, and there was a conspicuous lack of Awen by my side.

“Everyone!” Abraham roared. “This is my favourite niece! She's the best damned mechanic that you sorry lot have ever seen! Haha!”

Judging by the mortification on Awen’s face, she was currently trying to cast a new spell, maybe something like ‘dig hole’ right under her feet, but it wasn’t going to work with Abraham’s arm around her back keeping her in place.

“Ah, I remember when we first learned of her talent! I brought back this fine Snowlander crossbow that I’d lost a few years ago and had just found in the possession of this forest troll near Elkensteel! Thing was bent out of shape and stank to high heavens! Now, I brought the thing home, thinking I’d dunk it in some soap then toss it in the trophy cabinet, but the next thing I know, little Awen here had it taken apart!”

“Uncle,” Awen whined.

“Then I watched her put it back together! It didn’t work, but I was impressed anyway! Haha!”

“Uncle!” Awen whined louder. I started moving closer; being that red in the face couldn’t be healthy.

Abraham finally let go of Awen so that he could place his hands on his hips and push his chest out, the very image of a prideful old man. “She’s taken to the Bristlecone traditions, she has! Been running around all over, setting fires and tossing cats into trees and the like. And she has my signature good looks! Haha! Mathilde, you’ve got an unmarried daughter, don’t you? The spinster in charge of that lady’s club! I bet Awen and her would get along!”

“U-uncle!” Awen shouted. She swiped at Abraham, smacking him in the arm and setting off a loud guffaw from the big guy.

I came up behind Awen and patted her comfortingly on the back. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said.

“Yes, you probably don’t have anything to worry about,” Calamity said. “People this old, they won’t remember much come morning.”

There was a sudden heat as the tension in the room rose. Some dozen old adventurers were focusing their gazes on him.

“I was... joking?” Calamity said. He raised his hands in surrender, a rather wooden smile on his face.

“Abraham,” someone said from across the room. “You do know that you’re not allowed to bring non-members here, right?”

I glanced over, then blinked. The speaker was a short grenoil woman with a long scar across her face and more wrinkles than a deflated gasbag. Mathilde, the leader of the Port Royal Exploration Guild. “Hello, Mathilde!” I said with a wave.

“Miss Bunch,” she said. “Miss Albatross.”

“Oh! I’m a captain now!” I said. “It’s pretty nice. I should show you the Beaver one day. It’s a really good exploration ship.”

The grenoil raised her brows a little. “Really now? Well, as a captain you might be able to understand operational security. This part of the building is for members of the guild only. It’s just about the only rule I can manage to enforce with this lot, and I don’t want to go breaking it now.”

“Bah!” Abraham bah’d. “Awen ought to be a member too, then. And the cat can join too.”

“Sure,” Calamity said. “Wait, it doesn’t cost anything, does it?”

Mathilde stared at Calamity for a moment, one eyebrow slightly raised. “There's an initiation fee,” she began, her voice dripping with dry sarcasm, “which is primarily paid in common sense and good judgement. But don't worry, we have an occasional exception clause."

Abraham chortled. "That's a good one, Mathilde! Remember the time they tried to make that cow an honorary member?"

Mathilde sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Not in front of the guests, Abe. And if you want your niece to join, then she can go through the usual channels. You too,” she said, the last aimed at Calamity who gave her a quick salute.

“Well then! What are we waiting for? Ten minutes and you’ll have your pins! Come on!” Abraham said before he swept Awen and Calamity out of the room. Neither really had a choice in the matter since Abraham had made up his mind already.

Mathilde picked up a warm mug from the table nearest to her, then she made her way closer to Amaryllis and I who’d been left behind. “You two haven’t been here in a while,” she said.

“Ah, yeah, we’ve been travelling a lot,” I said, then I winced. “We... uh, haven’t done much official Exploration Guild stuff.”

“I know,” Mathilde said, and I felt my ears starting to wilt before I reached up with a hand and stretched them straight. “It’s not all bad, however. We have had plenty of layabouts and lazy members. I don’t usually care as long as they pay their dues. You two, however, have been doing plenty of work for the guild, whether it was official or not.”

“We have?”

Mathilde nodded. “Already, I've heard of your exploits in Sylphfree, and that’s hardly next door. Abraham said that you came in from the northwest, from all the way near the Snowlands?”

“Yeah, we went the long way around,” I said.

“I see. Well, so far the story is that a group of Exploration Guild members slew a dragon, saved the King of Sylphfree, and led the charge against a great pirate redoubt, saving hundreds of harpy nobles along the way.”

“Those are... mostly not very accurate,” I said. “It wasn't a dragon, but some sort of giant worm, and the soldiers did most of the work. When we saved the king, we merely stalled the assassin until help arrived. And we didn't lead the charge against the pirates; that was also a team effort. We just helped where we could. The sylph did most of the work. We just tracked the pirates down, mostly.”

Mathilde studied me with her sharp, intense eyes. They pinned me on the spot for a moment. “It’s rare to find humility, least of all in this room.”

Amaryllis had been quiet, but she decided to change that with a shake of her head. “We don’t do what we do for the sake of grandiosity or for clout. We do what we must because we can--and because it needs doing. Or so I’d like to think.”

Mathilde’s gaze shifted to Amaryllis. “Well said, Amaryllis. You’ve both grown since you were last here, Miss Albatross.”

Amaryllis sniggered. “Hardly,” she demurred. “But... I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind entertaining Broccoli and I in your office for a moment. We need to talk, privately.”

Mathilde stared at her for a long, tense moment before nodding curtly. “Very well. Follow me.”

The three of us made our way through the room and to a second exit by the back, then through a short corridor that eventually led into a modest, well-organised office. The desk was cluttered with scrolls and papers, a map of the surrounding regions adorned the wall behind her, and the bookshelves were filled with well-worn books and journals.

“These are my private offices,” she said. “I have a more ostentatious one downstairs, but it’s far too grand to get any actual work done. This one has the best privacy that one can have.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“A rune-based system?” Amaryllis asked.

Mathilde smiled. “Yes. But more importantly, obscurity. You wouldn’t believe how many magical listening devices, enraptured mice, or other creative bits of spycraft I’ve found in my office below. I loathe to imagine how many I’ve missed over the years.”

Was the Exploration Guild worth spying on that much? All we did was check things out and sometimes get into trouble.

“Now, what is it?” Mathilde sat behind her desk, her gaze fixed on Amaryllis, her arms folded.

Amaryllis hesitated, then she pulled out a seat in front of the desk. I grabbed the other, plopping myself down and waiting for Amaryllis to start. She’d asked for the meeting. I had a few ideas of what she wanted to cover, but I didn’t know how much Amaryllis wanted to share.

“You’ll recall Rainnewt,” Amaryllis said.

Mathilde’s eyes narrowed. “I do,” she said. “He disappeared like so much smoke, the rat. I have a few of our more experienced teams keeping an eye out for him, not that I expect much success on that front.”

Amaryllis nodded. “He's the one who tried to assassinate the King of Sylphfree. Before that, he also bombed a ball up in the nesting Kingdom, and a few weeks ago, he directed pirates to intercept the Harpy delegation to the diplomatic summit. Fundamentally, he seems to be launching false-flag attacks with the goal of sparking a continental war.”

The guild leader said nothing, only listening intently.

"A continental war," Amaryllis went on, "a vast war that will drag every nation on the continent into itself. We originally suspected he desired open hostilities so that nations would activate their contingency plans and kill each other's dungeons, but--"

"What?" Mathilde interjected. She shifted in her seat, eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"Dungeons are under threat from...." Amaryllis trailed off and glanced at me uncertainly. "Did you ever tell her about the... roots?”

I couldn’t remember telling Mathilde about it. A few others, sure, but never anyone too important in the Guild. I shook my head. "No, but we should probably tell her, right?"

"Right," Amaryllis turned back toward Mathilde and took a moment to get her thoughts in order. "Alright, yes, unrelated to the Rainnewt issue, dungeons are under threat from a kind of infection called Evil Roots. A lot of information passes by your desk, I can’t imagine you haven’t heard of something similar yet. They’re large plants, roots. They dig their way into the core and suborn the dungeon’s monsters."

Mathilde frowned. "What happens when the infection runs its course?"

"We're not really sure," Amaryllis admitted. "But we do know the infection spreads from one dungeon to another, and the World is convinced that Evil Roots are dangerous. So dangerous that it gives out quests to destroy a dungeon that shows any sign of infection."

Mathilde pinned us both with a look. I felt a chill crawl up my spine, even as Amaryllis unconsciously gulped.

The pressure let up. "I see," Mathilde said, and I shifted guiltily. Something told me she believed we'd killed dungeons before.

"...Returning to the Rainnewt issue," Mathilde graciously changed the subject. "I assume you're implying that Rainnewt also knows of the Evil Root infection, and that is why he is trying to start a war which would activate the dungeon-destruction plans that most nations claim not to have."

"Yes," Amaryllis nodded. "Or rather, that's our only real guess."

"If so, it's more of an excuse than an explanation," Mathilde stated. "If he really cared about stopping the Evil Roots, he would report it to governments and guilds--even shout it from the rooftops if he had to. He would try to form a unified front against the infection, instead of driving nations into ruinous infighting."

I blinked. Was that something I should have been doing? I could scream from a rooftop with the best of them.

"As I said, it's a guess," Amaryllis said. "And even apart from your counterargument, it's also possible to purge the infection from a dungeon without killing it."

"Oh?" Mathilde sounded even more focused, if that were possible.

"S-Rank cleaning will do it," I offered.

"I see." Her gaze measured me.

Amaryllis sighed. "At this point ... I don't know what's going through Rainnewt's head. I think you may be right, and he's just formulated an excuse to satisfy his desire to visit mayhem upon our world."

“We can’t allow that,” Mathilde said, her gaze shifted between Amaryllis and me. “Did you find evidence of his whereabouts, or of his plans?”

“We have some leads, but nothing concrete. We managed to thwart his attempt to smuggle weapons into Port Royal from the Snowlands. He was working with a harpy noble to push his agenda. The weapons were being brought here, specifically for the wedding.”

“Is he an idiot?” Mathilde asked. “I wouldn’t dare try to interrupt a dragon’s wedding, and I can’t imagine that’s all he was planning to do if weapons were being brought over. That won’t start a war, it’ll start an international catastrophe.”

“We stopped it,” I said. “Maybe? I think? But we’re worried that Rainnewt might have backup plans to ruin Booksie’s wedding with."

Amaryllis leaned forward. “We need the Exploration Guild’s resources. We need to pool our knowledge and find him before he executes another one of his empty-headed schemes.”

Mathilde stared at both of us, and I felt the tension ramping up as the seconds ticked on. I fidgetted in my seat, started to say something, but paused, then waited some more.

I felt some sweat pooling at the small of my back, but didn’t dare reach over to do anything about it.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she leaned back into her chair. “Very well. How can the guild help? I feel like we’re partially responsible for his previous actions. I should have caught on to him sooner, then none of this mess would be happening.”

“We need to find out what he’s planning. I imagine that he’ll probably strike during the wedding. He seems overly fond of attacking big, obvious events. He’s exceptionally dramatic that way.”

“We’re hardly good security,” Mathilde said. “If I set the guild’s veterans to watch over the wedding, half of them will be busier with the catering than looking for anything suspicious. And it’ll only be worse if there’s wine involved.”

“Can you help in other ways, then?” Amaryllis asked. “You must have contacts within the city. I imagine whatever Rainnewt is doing will require agents in the city. They’re bound to do something suspicious.”

Mathilde nodded. “We can do that. I’ll have the next few teams that return stay in the area. Some of them have no experience with this kind of thing, but I can think of a few individuals that know their way around. What about the dragoness?”

“Cholondee, or Rhawrexdee’s mom?” I asked.

“Cholondee,” Mathilde said. “She’s become the de facto leader of the city’s underground. I don’t think she pays much attention to her own faction, apart from its earnings, but this whole thing might interest her greatly.”

I glanced at Amaryllis, then nodded. “I guess that’ll have to be our next stop,” I said. “You take care of the political sorts, and we’ll handle the dragons!”

I almost felt bad. Mathilde had gotten the short end of that deal.

***