The Guild’s secret library was a cozy nest, boxed in with bookshelves, lit with warm lamplights and with a pleasant aroma wafting from the tea. But when Colin mentioned “The Vulture Company,” its dampness became stifling and the lights became overly bright. Estelle took a napkin and dusted the shelves as Rick spoke,

“I used to go Adventuring, but I’ve since retired to a quiet place far away from the capital. Now I only take petty tasks from pretty girls like Estelle.”

“It is my preference that you select quests based on your interests and personal strengths.” Estelle said, flatly.

“But you have to admit you look super cute as a maid. You’ve put a lot of work into the stitching, you know?”

Estelle’s hand quivered as she poured herself a cup, but the rest of her was a picture of impassivity.

“This is simply a receptionist’s fit with some slight modifications,” Estelle said. “I would only consider being your maid, Master Rick, if it granted higher wages.”

“Oh? Maybe I’ll have to start paying off my debts after all,” Rick said. He searched her eyes for seriousness, and was surprised to find that she was doing the same. “Interesting—”

“Please refrain from contract negotiations in my presence,” Colin said. “Especially when we haven’t finished with the business at hand. The fact is Rick, you’ve clearly been active even if you say you’re retired.”

“You want me to take out the Vulture Company, a mercenary band that leaves so much carnage that carrion birds follow them like stray dogs?”

Colin nodded.

“The Vulture Company, a group of assassins that have so little humanity their corpses also drop cores?”

Colin nodded again.

“So in other words—you’re asking me to die.”

“You need not complete this task alone. I heard that you work in close collaboration with Pern Arienette, an S-Rank Adventurer. Take her along too. And…”

Colin unfurled a map of the area. “The plan’s idiotproof. The Company’s camped on this road outside of Mazevale, near the Industrial District. Launch your attack tomorrow at around five o’clock and His Majesty’s soldiers will reinforce you.”

“The Guild thrives under his Majesty’s grace, but it’s rare for Him to get involved,” Estelle remarked. “I’m surprised the new Guildmistress has enough influence to call in troops.”

“His Grace and the Guild getting together to neuter a band of lowlifes—this is a perfectly ordinary affair. I don’t see how it warrants such commentary,” Colin rebuffed, before fully summarizing the task.

The plan was simple. Rick and Pern would attack from the front road, drawing the Vulture Company’s attention. While the Vulture Company charged forwards, his Majesty’s soldiers would strike from the back. They’d rout the Company with both surprise and superior numbers.

It would normally be beyond the pale to attack a mercenary band without any pretense, but for some reason or another, the Vulture Company had fallen into both the Guildmaster’s and his Majesty’s ill-graces. And Rick didn’t mind attacking them for a variety of reasons.

“You alright lad? You look pensive.”

“Revenge doesn’t pay.”

“That’s noble of you.”

“No, I’m saying revenge alone doesn’t pay. Give me money, too.” said Rick, and Colin’s glove stroked his chin, deep in thought.

“For the quest taker and the finisher, one thousand golden marks,” the messenger settled, and a bright, mad energy had returned to Rick.

“Estelle!” Rick called, like a merchant hawking his last wares just before close. “How many days of maiding can I buy for a thousand gold marks?”

“Please take this matter with the seriousness it deserves,” Estelle said. “And my answer is no more than a year.”

“That’s a robbery! No, it’s even worse! It’d be cheaper if you stole from me.”

“I charge a tax for working with a known womanizer.”

“I don’t need a maid for myself. But I’m sure Eliza would love an extra set of hands at the Four-Leaf Inn. Lower?”

“Two golds and ninety-nine silver marks.”

“Lower…?”

“Two golds and ninety eight silver marks.”

“...Done.”

Colin stood up, disgusted. “Please arrive at Escher Road at 5 o’ clock sharp, with your S-Rank companion. And enjoy the tea. It’s—what’s it called? Belladonna?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Blackberry leaf.” Estelle bowed.

“Yes, that’s right. Please do enjoy your drink; it’d be a waste to ignore an exquisite brew prepared by the receptionist you so adore.” He rubbed Rick’s shoulder, the false shelf ground open, and Colin strolled away into the bustling hall of the Guild.

This was a dangerous quest Rick had accepted, and Rick should have been tense. But because this second run-in with the Vulture Company was so unexpected, it felt like a game instead, and Rick managed to keep all the pieces of himself glued together instead of falling apart.

“Colin has already given you all the information you require.” Estelle bowed. “He has even provided you with information of which I was previously unaware. I was under the impression that the quest would be about collecting intel, not launching an outright attack.

That said, while Guildmistress is the official requester, and Colin her messenger, I am the official handler for the Mazevale Guild. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t have questions. But I do want some favors. Two of them.”

“If you want me to say something like “I love you Myaster” and trace a heart in your cup, I am afraid that will cost a full thousand gold.”

“Not that,” said Rick. “The first request is rather simple. I’d like you to station Adventurers around the Four-Leaf Inn and Cure’s Alchemy lab. And the Morning Lark too, I suppose.”

“Guards?”

“Like I said, it’d inconvenience me if certain people died, and in the past five minutes the Vulture Company’s already tried to kill me once.

Estelle’s eyebrows furled, and Rick pushed on:

“As for the second favor…”

Rick explained his request to Estelle.

“In a professional capacity, I cannot condone such behavior, especially since you’ve listed them as a member of your quest party. However, I will also state that I’m relying on you to convey task information to the person of interest; if the mentioned person fails to make any inquiry, then they shan’t be informed.”

“Thanks miss,” Rick said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

“Then, Rick. I have one question remaining for you.” Estelle said, her voice low.“You haven’t touched your cup. Is it my presentation? My pouring skills? Is the tea too cold? It’s part of the duties of the Mazevale Guild receptionist so I’d like to get it right.”

“I like beer,” Rick said. “That’s not beer, so…”

“That’s a shame. Then perhaps I’ll serve it to the others. Not because I’d rather be a maid, but because it wouldn’t be good to—” Rick grasped Estelle’s wrist.

‘ “On the second thought, I’ll take it. Don’t want to waste the food,” Rick said.

He balanced the little teacup in a large palm as he walked out through the Guild. As for Estelle, the professional minimum-wage receptionist who prided herself on her suave, mysterious grin—she broke into an expression of great confusion.

***

“Tim! Sue! Tom! Verimcelliamaniatchia! How’s business?

Rick squeezed past everyone in the Guild’s hall, greeting them as he rushed out. The main road was also crowded with Adventurers, regulars in top-class equipment mixed with newcomers whose worn-out boots had already fought and lost a battle with the dirt road.

Rick waved with one hand, and balanced the steaming porcelain cup with the other. But he noticed something even more absurd. There were in fact a few rookie Adventurers he didn’t recognize, and these Adventurer ‘nobodies’ possessed sleek, elite, black gear. Also, they each had two bulging tally-marks cut beneath their eyes.

“Absolute clowns,” Rick muttered under his breath.

Whether one chooses a short, efficient path or a long, scenic one, there are always at least two ways home. Rick ducked away from the Mazevale Guild into a bleak alley, and two conspicuous warriors peeled off from the rest of the crowd. They wielded sharp haircuts and pointy battle axes made from a fine steel.

“Stupid. Didn’t Zweithander know that the crowd was the only reason he was safe?”

“Get ‘em!” The men growled, each one of their ferocious faces flushed red with adrenaline and love for war.

They pursued him into the narrow strait, and what they found between houses were three stacked trash cans, some gravel and one mangy rat. “That can’t be him. Is it him?”

“Is this some kind of special skill? But they didn’t say he could turn into rats or garbage cans…”

“Look this way, wouldn’t you?” Rick called. He dropped two roof tiles onto their gawking faces and dropkicked one of them for good measure, as he plunged back down between buildings. He was holding the tea upright the whole time, though some hot liquid slurried from his cup onto his skin.

“Should have bought helmets too, if you had that much gold.” He called as he darted deeper into a maze of apartments. “I’ve made a waste of your brains. But then, you’ve wasted my tea.”

Left, left, right, right. Rick protected Mazevale, and Mazevale protected him, as he forged deep into all its side streets and paths.

Left, right, right, right. Rick reached the end of the long alleys, towards a cluster of abandoned stands in the Shops District on the west side of town. An enormous shadow fell on him, and an equally enormous man barred his way. This helmed wild-haired brute was about twice as tall as Rick, and dual-wielded spears, spinning them carelessly. He tossed down a gauntlet, revealing a hand streaked six times in ink.

“Ricard Zweithander. Our duel may be short or long, savage or civil, a graceful dance or a manly test of wills. But let our legend begin and never die, so long as at least one of our ancestors lives to sing of it.”

Rick heard “short, brutal, and manly testicles” instead—and so he promptly punched him in the balls.

“You shoulda brought a groin guard,” Rick muttered, and the large assassin gasped. One of his spears knocked over Rick’s cup. “Crap!”

Rick ducked and dived underneath the flailing pools, and he scrabbled at the liquid. He tore out his handkerchief, dabbed at the pavement, soaked it with the brownish water, and ran and ran and ran through a labyrinth of narrow buildings.

He bumped into another, final, warrior, this one an S-Rank lady knight in casual wear. She ran with a billowing shirt that didn’t quite reach her waist and heavy pack for armor as she joined his jog.

“Rick? Rick! What’s going on?”

“Can’t explain. No time.”

“You could’ve explained it in those fiveish words, you know.”

Rick jumped across a canal in the next second, and left Pern behind.

“Hey!” She waved furiously from the other side, but Rick had already vanished into one of his route’s last few turns. He made a last sharp right into the Industrial District, and his pace finally slowed to a halt. He was at that bleak edifice where his ex-partner concealed her lab. Rick put the handkerchief through the door slot, the girl alchemist went to work, and soon he had the answer he was looking for.

“It’s poison,” said Cure, returning the tea-soaked cloth.