Pratima Migtrolio practiced her smiles. Cyril could tell from the way her lips moved in an unnatural symmetry and how just enough of her teeth showed to make the expression look genuine. The dead giveaway was that every time she smiled, it was a perfect copy of the last time she smiled. Her face didn’t express joy. It just assumed the right emotion for the moment. Cyril wanted to rout her from his guild.
And that was despite the gift she brought. Pratima had arrived to the guild unannounced in the early evening. A fur coat swathed her shoulders to protect from the early autumn winds. In a city against the coast, cold came in quick and without warning. Hebiha had also accompanied her and stood behind the woman. The four had gathered in Bu’s office. The boss had called for his son, but Xin didn’t answer.
“I know the relationship between our guilds has been icy,” Pratima said. She was smiling. Hebiha behind her was smiling too, in that unshakeable way of his. “In truth, I don’t have much interest in repairing that relationship. But, my colleague has convinced me otherwise.”
Hebiha nodded his head. “Division is a weakness in and of itself,” he said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
The target of Hebiha’s question was unclear, so Cyril seized the opportunity to ignore it. Pratima had brought them a job. A small job on rolled up parchment. Neat penmanship outlined the need for wardens to hunt down a monster that had escaped from the invasion of Lyrique. Since then, witnesses tracked the monster stealing livestock and littering the outskirts of town with animal remains. The behavior belonged to an injured monster, feeding on easy and unfulfilling prey to recover its strength.
It was a perfect introduction to work for Cyril’s initiates. They would not have to travel far and their target was clearly outlined. The job rewarded only four hundred notes. After Gwyllion Abbey took its cut and the remaining sum was split with the kids, Cyril only stood to gain eighty notes. He lamented that he did not have any better prospects on the horizon. Bu had failed to find him a suitable mission.
The old man had made them all coffee, but no one had really taken a sip. The four mugs just lost heat and steam.
“This is a welcome surprise,” Bu said. “Though you must agree that this is a surprise.”
Pratima nodded. She flexed her practiced smile again. “That is to be expected. I’m competitive by nature. So was my husband, actually. I want to make something more of the guild he left behind. I tried to do that by pushing you out. Now I see there are more… enlightened options.”
Hebiha nodded along with his boss’ words. “Well said,” he added.
“The job is yours,” Pratima explained. She stood. Cyril and Bu did as well. “If you choose not to take it, then please do let me know. It would be terrible if someone was to be hurt because we let a monster run free.” She left the office, but turned around before completely disappearing. “Thank you for the coffee, by the way. It was delicious.”
The door to the guild closed behind their guests and Bu collapsed back into his office chair. Cyril took Pratima’s seat to sit opposite him. The old man looked tired when he was deep in thought.
“What do you think?”
“That Pratima Migtrolio only offers gifts with strings attached,” Bu said. “Trouble is, I can’t see the strings.”
“You might consider that none exist,” Cyril said. “I don’t like the woman either, but that Hebiha guy seems nice enough.”
Bu snorted. “Can’t fool me, son, I know how badly you wanna take those brats on a job.”
“Maybe I just miss the feeling of some extra money in my pockets.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Don’t lie to me!” Bu laughed. “You like those brats.” Cyril rolled his eyes. It just made the boss laugh more. “Alright, alright. You think they’re ready? Let ‘em prove it.” Bu raised his mug of now lukewarm coffee in a sort of toast. Cyril clapped his mug against the other. “Just don’t embarrass us.”
“When have I ever let you down?” Cyril asked.
“How much time you got?”
----------------------------------------
Two days later, about ten days after the kids found out about the reasoning for Cyril’s expulsion, the four wardens assembled. Cyril’s instructions had been clear. The initiates were to bring one small pack with essential supplies for travel when they met in the southern bluffs of the small farms and livestock keepers. Their mission explained that the monster was last seen scavenging from the farmers. Cyril guessed it moved in and out of the wilderness bordering the city’s small agricultural district.
Cyril wanted to get a jump on the job as early as possible, but was surprised that the farmers had already started their day. Sunrise had only just broken the horizon, yet animals were being fed and grain was being towed and a general hum of activity possessed the small corner of Lyrique. Despite all of the hustle, it relaxed Cyril. Watching others work undercut his own anxieties about bringing young teenagers on a job for wardens.
A fogbank mingled with gray clouds to turn the day gray and bleak. Only the western portion of the sky burned orange with the dawn. The wardens would travel towards it on their hunt.
“Morning!” Soraya wagged her arm as she rose over the crest of the path towards Cyril. He picked up his pack and slung it over his back. Cyril had strapped a bedroll to the leather pack. Inside he’d crammed bandages, clean water, a needle, thread and some food that would keep for a day or two of travel.
Wakahn looked like he was still asleep, eyes half-lidded and trudging behind the girls.
“Morning, wardens. I didn’t expect you all to arrive together,” Cyril said.
Soraya’s assimilation of her new denizen had put her on bedrest for almost two days, but the girl had returned to her training with a newfound vigor. The compatibility between her and her new gwyll pleased Cyril enough that he felt comfortable taking her on the mission. Even Piper and Wakahn had managed to go almost a full day without arguing with each other. When the group had learned they had a mission ahead of them, their attitudes turned even brighter. Cyril still worried about what feelings remained about his secret. If the kids harbored resentment, they hid it well.
“Good morning,” Wakahn mumbled.
“I found this one sleepwalking through town,” Piper explained. “I guess daddy usually lets his little boy sleep in.”
Wakahn didn’t have the energy to make a smarmy retort. Piper looked disappointed. She wore a crimson sweater and trousers men usually put on to go to work. Her constant silver chain still wrapped her neck and Cyril spotted those familiar bandages on her wrist peeking out from under her sleeves. Since the party at the Degatawa estate, Piper had taken to actually combing her hair and it fell into a more neat pattern on her head.
Soraya no longer wore pants that didn’t fit. Her frilly wardrobe had eroded over their weeks of training into a more utilitarian style. The girl had even indulged in several pairs of leather boots in different colors. They had all looked new when Cyril first saw them, suggesting the girl had undertaken a major shopping spree since the start of her training. Her pack was overstuffed with another change of clothes and a pillow peeking out of it.
Wakahn wore a short-cropped jacket over a shirt that drew a hood over his tired head. It protected his dark eyes from the burgeoning sunlight. Cyril wondered if someone had packed his backpack for him, as it had been neatly strapped closed and the bedroll atop it had been pinched into a perfect, tight spiral. Cyril figured asking would only embarrass the kid. He would commiserate with Piper about it later.
Cyril felt like he should give some kind of speech to commemorate the group’s first mission together. Nothing poignant leaped to mind, so he gave them a warning instead. “From the moment we start to the moment we finish, we’re wardens of Gwyllion Abbey,” Cyril said. “You are on the job. You are not students or initiates or anything less than wardens. You use your head before you use anything else.” Cyril eyed Piper. “You look after yourself as much as you look after each other,” he pulled the hood off Wakahn’s head and his eyes blinked open. “And what I say goes. No questions. Remember?” Soraya quickly nodded with a serious expression.
“Gwyllion Abbey, let’s get it done.”
Soraya cheered loud enough to startle a small bunch of chickens in a nearby pen. The farmer started complaining and Soraya started apologizing.
“Sorry!” she shouted, scaring the birds all over again. “Sorry…” she whispered.
“Great start,” Piper added. The party began the hunt.