Two shoppers walk by.
“Hey, do you recognize her from anywhere? I think she was in a movie…?”
“I don’t know… Doesn’t she look a bit like the statue of the Goddess?”
Two men in coats walk by.
“Could it be… Doesn’t she look like Sir Calendar?”
“I kind of see it… Maybe she’s a descendant or something.”
Two elders walk by.
“What a beautiful lass, huh?”
“I wonder what she’s doing here. Maybe her father works for the royals?”
“She definitely looks the part.”
Two more, two more, two more. All around Ayn were twos of people, making dozens and dozens. It was an especially busy street, so he made sure to lay especially low. He had noticed that his talent, ⌈The Call⌋, had been especially calm after reincarnation. Of course, it still affected others, but it was to a much lesser degree. Ayn made sure to savour the moment of relative silence, as his curse could return at any moment at its full power.
However, even if he could suppress his talent, the hero knew he could never live an ordinary life. It was simply fate, he supposed. As long as time flows, he will encounter more people and go on more adventures. That was simply how it was.
In this latest chapter of his adventures, he promised a young maiden to save her friend. Ayn felt a bit pathetic as he walked to this regional office. He was to contact the Endlegion Silverguards, recruit their help and support them in order to defeat Kyriekaos. Then, either through the Endlegion or Reginn, he would assist in rescuing Attila.
In every scenario, he was but a supporting actor, but he himself was completely fine with that aspect. It was the fact that he had to rely on others to get anything done that frustrated him.
Ayn remembered his past life — living like a princess, unfitting of a hero. He was discouraged from even getting close to the blade, lest he hurt himself. No matter how many times they reaffirmed his value to the group and praised him, the hero could not help but feel weak and helpless.
However, he never stopped nor changed tracks. Ayn simply continued down the path of inactivity and it eventually led him to a great path — paved by others. Most heroes would dream to be in his situation: peace with Sonosis ensured, various beasts slain and the love of the people harvested. However, the only difference was that Ayn did not do much other than increase the stats of his teammates and being an emotional support. But then again, that was simply how it was.
The building was modest, almost indistinguishable from the other buidings, and Ayn observed the entrance decorated with naught as he entered.
“Good morning, what can I help you with today?” asked the receptionist.
This wasn’t exactly what Ayn was expecting, as posters of vaccination notices, warnings about insurance scams and how to report a car accident surrounded the walls. It was different from the more regal, official environment he was used to. Even if it was indeed just an office to renew your documents, they were still decorated with flowers and twirls of the doorframe, pillars visible. Now it felt sanitized and inoffensive, the transparent glass walls symbolizing the destruction of the boundary. Perhaps this was a good thing, perhaps not.
“I… Could I speak with the Endlegion Silverguards?”
“I’m sorry miss, but I’m afraid this isn’t the correct location to do so.” replied the receptionist, “The Endlegion Silverguards is a private organization not affiliated with the federal or provincial government. You’ll have to make way to the guild for that.”
“Okay, thank you…”
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The adventurer’s guild… Of course, most eras of Avangarden had at least one, as they were the backbone of all adventurers and explorers. Without them, the guild culture of Avangarden would’ve never thrived, and Ayn wouldn’t have met his friends of his era. It was a bit surprising to learn that the Endlegion Guards were not a part of the government, seeing how integral they seemed with the local law enforcements, but it seemed that times have changed.
In front of him was the closest branch of the… Calendar Foundation. As embarassing as it was, it seemed that the Callyx Adventurer’s Guild had changed its name to the Calendar Foundation posthumously. The hero should’ve been used to it by now, but it never became normal to him.
This time, the entrance felt different, more lively. There were people crowding the area, accepting and posting various commissions. It seemed that the trend of posters still continued, advertising a new mobile app to access commissions and payments. This reminded the hero to check his pockets, but alas, he was so used to leaving the house empty handed, he never bothered to bring his phone. As it was the main form of communication between him and Sivrit, it would be wise to make the habit in the future.
The colours of the commission was similar — as did the rest of the world. Black, white, grey.
‘When did the world become so monochrome’ he wondered.
It was like those models of the projector he’d seen at the fair. Black and white films. Perhaps life indeed imitated art.
“H-hello”
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“Hi! How can I help you today?”
“Could I possibly speak to the Endlegion Silverguards?”
“Alright then, you’ll have to post a commission then!” replied the receptionist, “But just a warning, they’re very picky about the commissions they choose. They won’t handle any bounty under a hundred thousand Fares.”
“H-hundred thousand Fares?”
“Well, it makes sense. If you want the best, it’s gonna cost ya. They’re also usually budy on government commissions anyway.”
“A-alright, thank you…”
Ayn took off dejectedly, facing two blunders in a row. However, the door suddenly opened wide with a thud, and the atmosphere became still as it revealed a large man in armour followed by a woman, her face covered in a veil. At first, Ayn did not quite recognize them, but it seemed that they did.
The two walked through the silence — as if they had frozen time — and the girl began talking to the receptionist in a cold tone. Meanwhile, the man turned back to face Calendar. He watched the hero in silence, before signalling him to follow him upstairs.
As Ayn made his way through the crowd, there was a mix of concern in the crowd’s eyes. They had respected Siege’s heroic bravery and deeds but were never sure of what exactly happened on the rumoured 5th floor. It was heavily guarded and monitored, but sometimes, Siege would call some individuals to follow, presumably discussing grave matters. The expressions of the survivors ranged from grief-stricken, to shell-shocked. It was never any good news.
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The long room lay serene, the noon’s light shining diagonally onto the table. The seats were all empty, but the room was not without life. There were flowers, garments and photos. This was an important space for Siege, as this was the location where it all began — his new guild: The Endlegion Silverguards. To this day, the hero still looked back with nostalgia, and the wooden colours still brought him peace in this turbulent world.
“...Have a seat, Sir Calendar,” said Siege.
They sat at the far edge of the table. Siege’s seat piled papers taller than him, but when Alveolo began filing them for him, the hero stopped her.
“It’s rude to ignore our guest,” said Siege as he put the collection of papers onto a shelf nearby, “Right now, let us focus on the task at hand.”
“My apologies,”
Ayn sat awkwardly during this encounter. He had finally reached his target but forgot what he was to say. The hero could tell that the two in front of him were nobles, if not royals, characterized by their manner of speech, etiquette and clothing. However, he could never be sure in this strange new world.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” began Siege, “I am Siege, the leader of the Endlegion Silverguards.”
“My name is Alveolo-Palatal Sibilant Affricate, but you can call me Alveolo. I am the second-in-command of the Endlegion Silverguards.”
“M-my name is Ayn Calendar. Instead of Sir Calendar, please just call me Ayn…”
“I see. It is an honour to meet a legend such as yourself,” said Alveolo.
“Thank you…”
Ayn wondered why the mage had a veil over her face, which was completely opaque to reveal naught. However, he returned to the topic at hand as he remembered why he was there.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you guys about Kyriekaos — I suppose you know them?”
“...Of course,” replied Alveolo.
“I was wondering if I could help in any way to stop them,” said Ayn, “I promised a friend that I would save the girl possessed, and I don’t think I’ll be able to do it alone.”
Even through his helmet, Ayn could tell that Siege had a serious expression as he sighed.
“...I’m afraid it is not within our authority,” said Alveolo.
“What? Why?”
“I believe you have already contacted the hero known as Reginn, yes? We have met him as well, and long story short… We have completely left the case up to him, and we are not allowed to interfere.”
As his simple plan came crumbling apart, Ayn suddenly recalled something. Something he had forgotten to do.
“...Wait, but you guys can’t trust Reginn. He’s… He’s the culprit behind the Hevel Church Massacre.”
“...What?”
Alveolo sat up from her seat to listen to the words clearer, but Siege continued to sit still, arms crossed, still as a statue.
“It’s true, and you must have your suspicions as well, I mean — who else would be able to do such thing? And I’ve heard his… unsavoury opinion regarding the demons, which explains the motives. Things were different back in the day, after all.”
Silence spread as Alveolo pondered the implications. If it were true, they would need to alert the royals right away.
“...Would you like some cookies, Sir Ayn?” asked Siege.
After a moment, he sat up from his seat to grab the bowl from the shelf but was beaten to it by Alveolo, who quickly brought it over before he could even leave.
“N-no thank you.”
Ayn was not particularly concerned about poisoning or such, but it was just that usually after people saw him eat things — especially sweets — they would find it… ‘cute’ and try to feed him more and more stuff. The hero was already too used to these things, and while he was sure the Endlegion Silverguards had great mental resistance, the hero’s talent seemed to work in mysterious ways, always causing trouble for him.
“Hm.”
Siege grabbed a piece himself, and unveiled his mouth as he took a bite. Ayn only received a glimpse, but the man had a defined jawline and a prickly beard, reminding him a bit of his own father. Ayn understood that Siege must’ve been trying to show him that these cookies were indeed not laced, and feeling a bit pressured, Ayn took the cookies himself.
Soon, he began to feel a bit tired… Then sleepy…
Then.