Sigurd made haste and returned to the Adventurer’s Guild. He checked his body to make sure there wasn’t any of the monster’s blood still on it – albeit there was nothing he could do about it, nor the potential smell. After passing through the double doors of the Guild’s entrance, and waving to Bella in passing, he headed up to the second floor to the Guildmaster’s office. Sigurd had been given the special privilege of free access.

“Ah, you’re back,” the Guildmaster said upon seeing Sigurd enter and motioned for him to sit on the sofa opposite his. “Now that you’ve had time to prepare and steel yourself for the battle with the Towering Troll—”

“Oh, that’s been taken care of,” Sigurd interjected in a nonchalant tone.

“What?” the Guildmaster did a double-take. “What do you mean taken care of?”

Sigurd paused for a moment, shrugged his shoulders, and calmly said, “It’s done? The Towering Troll is no more.”

Speechless, the Guildmaster cleared his throat, “That’s not possible. It hasn’t even been a day, let alone six hours! And besides, I was under the impression you were going to gather allies. The beast was surely a raid-level quest.”

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“It probably would’ve been easier with allies, but time was of the essence. Not like I have any combat allies anyway,” Sigurd said, with a pensive face. “But I thought this might happen, so I brought proof.”

He then fetched from among his belongings the troll’s necklace – the one made with ears and appendages – and carefully placed it on the coffee table. Upon doing so, the Guildmaster’s eyes widened.

Taken aback, he let out a hearty chuckle to sway his disbelief. “You actually did it,” he said grabbing the gory accessory. “Were there any witnesses?”

“Oh yeah, at least fifteen of them,” Sigurd struggled to recall how many kids there were. “These orphans were trying to forage for herbs, and—”

“Orphans?!” the Guildmaster interrupted, stupefied. Excitement taking over, he added, “You even saved orphans. Cuntz was correct, you’re the real deal!”

The Guildmaster stood, took the necklace toward his desk for safekeeping, and returned to the sofa. In his hand, he returned with a small pouch and placed it on the table. He sat back in his spot, firmly in place, and grinned at Sigurd.

That smile lasted but a moment, as his eyes darted to one side. An intrusive, yet gnawing and pervasive thought crept in; the Guildmaster’s smile turned upside down, as his expression became filled with disappointment, regret, and sadness.

“You’ve earned my trust,” he finally said. “And for your brave deed, I thank you, and this pouch is but a token of that. However...”

“Here it comes,” Sigurd said, familiar with the cues the Guildmaster’s expression signaled, bracing himself for the worst.

The Guildmaster’s face scrunched up, as he bowed before him.

“I have a terrible confession to make..!”