Stepping inside, Sigurd found himself in a large office. At the far end of the room were filing cabinets and a large window to look out, as well as a large desk with an empty chair. Documents lay strewn upon the desk. In the center of the room were two large sofas and a coffee table. Sitting across from the entrance was the purported Guildmaster. He stood to greet Sigurd.

“Welcome, Sigurd. Please,” he gestured towards the sofa in front of him. “Take a seat. We’ve much to discuss.”

Sigurd did as instructed and the Guildmaster followed suit across from him. Sitting comfortably in his spot, the man crossed his legs and outstretched his arms across the backrest. It was the first time Sigurd had seen someone act so smugly nonchalant.

The Guildmaster was dressed sharply in a suit, with a matching fedora. He also wore sunglasses, albeit slightly tipped to reveal his eyes. His deep, raspy voice and his gray, shaven goatee belied the man behind his cunning stare. With unbridled confidence and a soft-spoken, yet clear tone, he addressed Sigurd.

“Our mutual friend has told me great things about you,” he said with a grin, his eyes thinning.

‘Why does he look and sound like a mob boss?!’ Joyce thought, flabbergasted.

“But I am curious,” he paused momentarily, leaning forward. “What is a dignitary such as you doing all the way out in our fringe town of Grimroost?”

Taken aback, Sigurd maintained a stoic demeanor and crossed his arms, “So he told you, did he?” The Guildmaster replied with a toothy smile, which prompted Sigurd to continue, “I guess you could say I came here for a fresh start, and to regain what I’ve foolishly lost, but mostly because there’s too much suffering and I want to rid people of it. Or at the very least ease it.”

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The Guildmaster chortled loudly, pointing at Sigurd, “Spoken like a true warrior! I like that!” Their eyes met and Sigurd did his best not to flinch or show weakness.

“Now, don’t misconstrue me,” the Guildmaster then held up his hands, unassuming. “I may look a little intimidating and I may seem a bit judgmental, but I can guarantee you that I’m happy to meet you today, Baron.”

“...but?” Sigurd replied softly, raising an eyebrow. “There’s always a ‘but’.”

The man before him chuckled again, repeatedly pointing at him while grinning, “The thing is, I trust Cuntz. I’ve known him for a long time, and I don’t doubt what he told me,” the Guildmaster nodded. “But I want to see the proof with my own eyes.”

He stood momentarily and passed by his desk, picking up a document on it, before taking his place on the sofa in front of Sigurd. Placing the slightly tattered piece of paper on the table, the Guildmaster gestured at Sigurd to read.

“There have been reports of a Towering Troll attacking and maiming people in the forest to the east, on the outskirts of town,” he said. As he did, Sigurd read the document. It was essentially a bounty request – a desperate plea for anyone to take on and fell the monster. On it was a crude drawing depicting the target.

“Several adventurers have tried to defeat it, and all have failed,” the Guildmaster continued. “But if you can take it down, then you’ll have earned my trust. And then I’ll be able to get you all the quests you want. Will you accept?”

Sigurd set down the document on the coffee table and nodded, “I will.”

The Guildmaster grinned from ear to ear, and let out another hearty chuckle, and informed Sigurd of some crucial mission details before he headed out.