“That’s quite the theory you have there, Ivran.”
“It’s not a theory! I’m absolutely certain of it!”
“Where’s your proof, then?”
“Um, well, that is, I’m, uh, still working on that…”
The pale-faced elf couldn’t help but scratch his head awkwardly, ruffling his short and oily green hair in the process. His bright red eyes wandered aimlessly around the guild master’s office as he instinctively avoided his superior’s stern gaze. Only now did Ivran realize he had been far too enthusiastic when approaching him with his idea and was actively making a fool of himself.
A sigh exited Galan’s throat as he leaned back into his chair. Though the young man in front of him showed promise and a genuine thirst for knowledge, his lack of restraint could be seen as a problem. Ivran’s inability to follow proper procedure was merely a side effect of that. That said, it was hard for Galan to fault him. As a fellow graduate of the prestigious Mistvale Magic Academy, he had a pretty good idea as to what was going through his newest recruit’s head.
“Look here, lad,” he spoke in a more casual tone. “I get it, I do. You want to impress your superiors and move up in the world as fast as possible, but this is not the way.”
“You’ve got it wrong, sir,” Ivran rebuked him. “I don’t want fame or fortune, I just want to see my ideas made real. I want to explore the depths of the arcane arts, to research and study that which others are either incapable or unwilling to scrutinize. It’s why I came to the Maleficium in the first place!”
Galan couldn’t help but frown with concern upon hearing those words.
“Watch your tongue, boy,” he scolded Ivran. “I know my guild has a certain reputation, but talk like that just makes us seem like amoral madmen that would do anything for power.”
“… With all due respect, sir, I don’t think words alone are to blame for that.”
“I know, I know. But what can I do?”
As much as the wizened old elf disliked it, it was hard to break away from a guild’s identity once it had been established. In the Maleficium’s case, it had become known solely for its members’ willingness to dabble in the darker and more ethically ambiguous side of magic in the mere twelve years since its establishment. It was why Warlocks like Ivran were so eager to sign up with such a relatively tiny organization rather than one of their more prestigious competitors despite being gifted magic users. The Maleficium’s small size was also why it was being tolerated rather than disbanded, as they were literally too insignificant to raise a fuss over.
Or at least that was what Galan believed to be the case.
“I for one don’t think such a reputation is something to be ashamed of,” Ivran confidently stated.
“Oh?” Galan raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate on that?”
“Hexcraft, demonology and necromancy may be practices the public does not approve of, but ignorance of these things will not protect us from them. Whether they like it or not, both the nation and its citizens need people like us. Only through knowledge and understanding of what the world brands as ‘evil’ or ‘heretical’ can we hope to establish wards and safeguards against it.”
The older elf fell into a short contemplative silence upon hearing those words.
“You’re quite the wise one for someone just barely out of their teens, aren’t you?” he remarked.
“Hardly. I was just reciting something I read in the Orifel’s foreword in his Compendium of Curses.”
“Ah… The old man did use to say something like that that, didn’t he?”
Though Galan was the current guild master of Maleficium, he was not actually its founder. That ‘honor’ belonged to one Zachary Orifel, his old mentor and teacher, who was unfortunately forced to resign and return to the Lodrak Empire. The authorities cited some made up and plausible reasons for this, but everybody knew they did it just because he was human. His successor and student naturally disagreed with the government’s blatant discrimination, but he dared not speak up for fear of imprisonment.
After all, the Elven Dominion was not called as such because they ruled with sunshine, smiles and rainbows.
“So, what do you say, sir?” Ivran interrupted his sarcastic thought. “Will I have the guild’s backing on this project?”
“The Maleficium does not have the spare resources to fund research based on mere speculation,” he coldly replied. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to continue the old man’s legacy, but our financial situation demands I be as frugal as possible with our spending. And research into obscure magical theories is hardly what I would call a safe investment.”
“I… understand, sir.”
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“That said, I would scarcely be able to call myself a guild master if I didn’t at least try to accommodate one of our most promising recruits. Though I cannot give you the money you require, I can give you the opportunity to earn the gold for yourself. How does that sound?”
“If it will help me further my research, then I will gladly get my hands dirty. Up to the elbows, if I must.”
“That’s the spirit,” Galan commended him. “I knew I had a good feeling about you. That’s why I’m offering you a promotion from Initiate to Adept, effective immediately.”
“I will gladly accept your generous offer, sir,” Ivran bowed his head, a slight smile on his lips.
Obtaining a higher rank within the guild was not exactly what he wanted, but it would still give him several benefits. For one thing, he would no longer have a Quest quota to fulfill each month, and would be given the ability to take on tougher assignments with better payouts. He would also gain access to some of the Maleficium’s more confidential knowledge on things considered to be of an unholy nature. The only downside was that the guild would require a more substantial member’s fee from him in return, but that was a minor concern in the grand scheme of things.
The important thing was that the guild master was clearly putting a lot of faith in young Ivran by giving him this promotion. Normally only those who have been with the Maleficium for a minimum of two years would be offered the rank of an Adept. Awarding it to an Initiate who had only been here for a month could therefore be seen as questionable to say the least. Not because of the man’s abilities. If anything, his Level 59 Warlock Job and Level 17 Enchanter Job made him slightly overqualified for the position. It was Ivran’s loyalty and commitment to the guild that other, older members might find lacking.
Yet as much as those who didn’t know him might see this as a power grab, the elf himself genuinely didn’t care for influence, fame, or fortune. He recognized these things as being valuable in assisting him with his endeavors, but believed them to be means to an end rather than something to strive for. Whether it was innocence, naivete, or something else, he failed to realize why others might despise his sudden rise through the ranks.
That was why he was able to leave the Maleficium’s tiny office and walk home with a carefree smile. He gazed up at one of the dozen mighty hylt trees of Azurvale as he usually did whenever he walked the streets of the elven capital. Ever since he first laid eyes on them at the age of eight, he has never once ceased to marvel in awe at the magnificence of the Holy Twelve. Kilometers tall and with roots just as deep, they were like a standing monument to nature’s perseverance. Yet the thousands of souls that dwelled around their trunks and atop their branches seemed to take them for granted, as if these wonders were something common and not worth taking notice of.
“Mew…”
The oily-haired elf’s daydreaming was interrupted by the tiniest of voices that somehow reached his pointy ears through the buzz of the crowd around him. Ivran glanced around, curious as to what could be making such an unfortunately pathetic noise. It wasn’t until he looked down at the ground that he spotted an old wicker box, which had been left on the edge of the road as if it were someone’s trash. He knelt down in front of the old wicker box that had caught his attention and slowly lifted the lid.
“Mroww…”
Inside he saw a kitten. A tiny little orange ball of fluff that had curled up at the bottom of it. The elf looked around as if to find the little guy’s owner or at the very least its mother, but it seemed to have been abandoned here. He was also the only one around to take any sort of interest in it, which was understandable considering that elves usually did not care much for cats. Indeed, none would fault him for simply walking away and leaving the defenseless critter to its fate.
Which obviously wasn’t what he did, seeing as how he plopped the kitten-in-a-box atop a clerk’s counter just ten minutes later.
“Uh, hello there, sir,” the confused official greeted him. “What can the Beast Handlers’ Guild do for you?”
“Yes, hi, sorry for barging in like this, but can I speak to one of your Tamers?”
“Is this about the cat in the box?” she pointed at the wicker container.
“That’s right.”
“You do realize that Monster Tamers don’t work with Class Zero creatures, yes?”
“Sorry, Class Zero?”
“Mundane animals that are not considered dangerous. Such as tabby cats,” she nodded towards the furball.
“Yeah, that’s just it. I don’t think it’s just another kitten. Look at this.”
The man reached a hand into the box, which the harmless critter curiously prodded with its tiny paws and nose. It also seemed to not mind being pet or held, at least until Ivran tried to lift it out of its ‘home.’ At that point the kitten started to squirm, squeal and hiss within his grasp, refusing to calm down until it was put back in the box. The elf repeated the process twice more, to which the kitten reacted in much the same way each time.
“See?!” he told the befuddled receptionist. “You can’t tell me your average cat does that!”
“Okay, I will admit that is a bit odd,” she conceded politely, “but I know a common alley cat when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.”
Her client seemed unconvinced, however.
“Well, I’d like to have it examined anyway,” Ivran insisted.
The clerk resisted the urge to roll her eyes and began processing the young man’s request. A handful of gold, a visit to an expert on feline monsters and a slightly humiliating half hour later, Ivran left the Beast Handlers’ Guild looking rather disappointed. He had convinced himself he’d found a unique magical creature, only to end up being told time and again he was sorely mistaken. The elf felt so incredibly awkward about it that he somehow ended up adopting the kitten as if that had been his intent from the start.
Incidentally, the critter still refused to leave its rectangular home, hence why Ivran had little choice but to carry it back to his house along with its wicker box.
“Well, it’s not all bad,” he muttered while looking down at the little guy. “Having you around would probably liven the place up a little.”
Ivran did not mind living alone. He preferred it, in fact. Especially given his… eccentricities. However, he would be lying if he said he didn’t crave companionship from time to time. He may not have intended to wind up with a pet, but the elf was rather looking forward to it now that he had taken responsibility for it. That was why he resolved do his best to care for the kitten. He even tried his best to give it a cute name, though the people at the Monster Tamer guild looked at him a bit funny when they heard it. It was like they were questioning whether he was qualified to own a pet, but the young man himself thought otherwise.
After all, it was ridiculous to think that a harmless little critter like Boxxy would be any more of a handful than the three demonic familiars already in service to Ivran Tol-Saroth.