Adventurer's Guild - Capital Branch

Haziel drew stares as she pushed open the heavy oak doors to the adventurers' guild. The hall inside was vast and bustling, a hive of activity that momentarily stilled at her entrance.

The more Haziel walked inside, the murmur of conversations faded to hushed whispers. Adventurers turned in their seats, their eyes widening at the sight of her. Some whispered to their companions, casting furtive glances in her direction. Others averted their gazes entirely.

A panicked elf girl hurriedly rushed over from the front desk. Her eyes were wide with anxiety as she approached the inquisitor. "Welcome, Inquisitor Haziel," the elf girl stammered, bowing slightly as she reached her. "How can we assist you today?"

Haziel's stern gaze locked onto the elf girl, who fidgeted nervously under the weight of her stare. "I need to see the records of the latest dungeons registered within the last three months."

The elf girl stuttered, eyes darting around the room as if seeking help. "B-but those documents are confidential, Inquisitor. Only authorized personnel can—"

Haziel's eyes narrowed, cutting the girl off mid-sentence. "If you refuse to cooperate, I will arrest you for treason. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Inquisitor. Please follow me." She fumbled with a set of keys at her waist, her fingers shaking as she tried to find the right one. Eventually, she unlocked a door behind the front desk and pushed it open.

Haziel followed the elf girl down a narrow, dimly lit stairway. The air grew cooler as they descended, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. At the bottom of the stairs, they entered a large archive room filled with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, each one crammed with ledgers, scrolls, and documents.

The elf girl led Haziel to a table in the center of the room, her movements hurried and frantic. "These are the archives, I'll show you the relevant records." She scrambled to a nearby shelf, pulling out a thick ledger with both hands before placing it on a nearby table, the heavy book landing with a thud.

"This ledger contains all the dungeon registrations for the past three months," the elf girl continued, her voice still shaking. "It's—"

Haziel cut her off with a dismissive wave. "Leave. Your services are no longer needed."

The elf girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded quickly and scurried out of the room, closing the door behind her. Haziel watched her go, ensuring she was truly alone before turning her attention to the ledger.

She opened the thick book, the leather cover creaking slightly. The pages were filled with neat, precise entries, each one detailing the location, difficulty, and contents of newly discovered dungeons. Haziel's eyes scanned the records, searching for any anomalies.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The records appeared thorough and accurate, listing various dungeons with their respective dates and explorers. However, as she flipped through the pages, a faint sensation tingled at her fingertips. Haziel paused, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated. She could sense the faintest traces of magic lingering on the pages.

She turned the pages slowly, her senses attuned to the subtle magical residue. It was scattered and random, with no discernible pattern. Some entries felt perfectly normal, while others carried a faint, almost imperceptible aura. The inconsistency frustrated Haziel, making it impossible to determine which records might have been tampered with.

After several more minutes of fruitless searching, Haziel sighed in frustration. She closed the ledger with a decisive snap and returned it to its original spot on the shelf. The faint traces of magic had left her with more questions than answers. I still need more information.

She made her way back up the narrow stairway, the air growing warmer as she ascended. The hustle and bustle of the guild hall greeted her once more as she emerged from the archives. Adventurers glanced at her with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, their conversations hushed as she passed by.

Haziel approached the guild receptionist desk, where the elf girl from earlier was busy organizing paperwork. The girl looked up, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw Haziel again. "Inquisitor Haziel, is there something else you need?"

"Is the guildmaster available?" Haziel asked, her tone sharp and direct.

The elf girl hesitated, glancing nervously towards a door at the back of the hall. "S-sorry, but the guildmaster hasn't returned here since the war began," she said, her voice uncertain.

Haziel sighed. "Very well," she said, turning away. "Thank you for your time."

***

Haziel stopped in front of the capital concert hall. The towering columns and intricate stonework exuded an air of elegance and history. She reached into her pocket, retrieving a finely crafted pocket watch. The gold casing gleamed in the afternoon sun as she flipped it open, revealing the delicate hands pointing to 3:47 PM.

As she stood there, several guards approached. However, upon noticing her inquisitor's uniform, their expressions quickly shifted. They bowed their heads respectfully and stepped aside as they recognized her authority.

She quickly went inside and made a bee-line towards an empty auditorium. The stage was bathed in soft light, and her gaze immediately fell upon Dante. He stood at the center, his posture relaxed yet focused, the violin nestled under his chin. A woman played the piano beside him, fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease.

Soon, the woman glanced up and noticed Haziel standing in the shadows of the auditorium. Her fingers faltered on the keys, a look of panic flashing across her face. "Dante," she whispered urgently. "There's an inquisitor here."

Dante opened his eyes and paused his bow mid-stroke. The soft, melodic sound from his violin ceased as he turned his head slightly towards Haziel. A calm smile spread across his face. "Elise, I think you should take a break while I treat our new guest."

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Elise nodded, though her expression remained uneasy. Her hands trembled as she quickly gathered her sheet music, each page rustling softly in the otherwise silent room. "Thank you, Dante." She cast a nervous glance at Haziel as she passed before disappearing through a side door.

Dante set his violin and bow down gently on a nearby stand, ensuring they were perfectly balanced. He descended the stairs from the stage unhurried despite the unexpected interruption.

When he reached the bottom, he approached Haziel with a charming smile that barely reached his eyes. "Haziel, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Haziel crossed her arms and scoffed. "Save the pleasantries. Do you know anything interesting in relation to dungeons as of late?"

Dante's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of mild confusion. He tilted his head, brows knitting together in a subtle frown. "Dungeons?" I'm afraid I don't know anything about that. My focus has been entirely on my music." He gestured vaguely towards the stage, where his violin was waiting. "Could you perhaps let me continue my practice?"

"There will be no show until I'm done questioning you," Haziel said sharply.

Dante chuckled lightly, though there was no humor in it. "Well, if this isn't a performance, then I'm in trouble. My acting skills are terrible."

Haziel's eyes narrowed as she reached into her leather satchel, the worn material creaking softly. She produced a thick stack of documents, bound together with a fraying ribbon. She handed them over to Dante, her movements precise and deliberate. "Read this," she instructed, her voice low but firm.

Dante hesitated, glancing at the bundle in his hands. "What is this for?"

"Just read it."

With a resigned sigh, Dante untied the ribbon and skimmed through the pages. As his eyes scanned the lines of text, his expression shifted from confusion to concern, then to a deepening dread. The documents detailed a chilling pattern: every time Dante performed, someone in the vicinity disappeared. Witness testimonies, timelines, and ominous red marks indicating the missing persons peppered the pages.

Regardless, Dante tried to play it off. "These are just coincidences. I have nothing to do with these disappearances."

"The inquisition has been keeping a close eye on you. Your performances and these vanishings are too closely aligned. Someone always goes missing whenever you play.

"I don't know anything about this, and what does this have to do with you trying to ask me for information regarding dungeons?"

"Please cut the bullshit. Every noble and major merchant in the capital knows who you are, and I'm confident you would at least know something useful for my investigation. But, should you refuse to cooperate, I'll drag you to the inquisitorial headquarters and have you questioned for those disappearances."

Dante's shoulders slumped, and he let out a long, defeated sigh. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the stage, his beloved violin, and finally back to Haziel. "Fine. But let's not talk here."

Haziel's eyes remained cold, unyielding. "Don't try anything stupid," she warned, her hand subtly resting near the hilt of the dagger strapped to her waist. Her voice was laced with an edge that brooked no argument.

Dante shook his head, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not trying anything. We can talk in my private room. It's just down the hall."

Haziel's eyes flicked over Dante with a sharp, appraising glint, lingering just long enough to make him uneasy. After what felt like an eternity, she gave a brisk nod. "Lead the way. But remember, any sudden moves, and this conversation will end very differently."

Dante returned her nod, though the tightness in his throat betrayed his nerves. He turned and started walking the sound of his footsteps barely audible over the low hum of activity from the main stage.

Haziel followed closely, moving like a shadow at his back. They wound through the backstage corridors until they reached the end of a particularly long hallway,

Dante's steps slowed when he neared his private room. He paused, hovering a hand over the brass door handle, fingertips brushing the cool metal as if hesitating to fully commit.

"Go on. Open it." Haziel said.

Dante inhaled deeply, the breath catching slightly as he tried to steady his nerves. With a resolve that felt almost forced, he pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few flickering candles and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. A grand oak desk dominated one corner, cluttered with scattered sheet music, quills, and the remnants of half-finished compositions. The rich scent of aged paper hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of whiskey.

"Make yourself comfortable," Dante offered, though his voice carried a slight tremor.

He headed towards a polished mahogany cabinet where he reached for a crystal decanter filled with whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim light as he poured himself a generous measure. The scent of the liquor was sharp, filling the air as he raised the glass to his lips. He took a sip, the warmth spreading through his chest, but it did little to quell the anxiety tightening his stomach.

"Let's get to the point," Haziel said. "I need information. Tell me any information you have regarding dungeons behaving oddly as of late, or at the very least, point me to someone who does know."

Dante took another sip of his whiskey, trying to buy himself a moment to think. He met her gaze, forcing a look of sincerity onto his face. "I’ve told you already, I don’t know anything about dungeons. I’m just a musician. I play my violin, and that’s all."

Haziel leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "And yet, every time you perform, someone goes missing. How do you explain that?"

"It’s a coincidence," Dante insisted. "People go missing all the time. It has nothing to do with me."

Haziel's expression hardened, and she let out a slow, controlled breath. "You’re lying, Dante. The evidence is too consistent to be a mere coincidence. Who are you working with? And do they have any ties to the dungeons?"

"I swear, I’m not working with anyone," Dante said, shaking his head vehemently. "I don't know anything about it. I just play my music. That's all I’ve ever done."

Haziel's eyes bored into him, unrelenting. "You expect me to believe that?"

Dante felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. "I don’t know what else to tell you. Maybe someone is trying to frame me. I’ve made no enemies, but someone out there could be targeting me for some reason I don’t understand."

Haziel sighed, a sound filled with a mix of frustration and disappointment. She rose from her chair, her hand moving to the hilt of her rapier. "You’re a terrible liar."

Before he could react, Haziel drew her rapier and plunged the blade through Dante's chest. His eyes widened as searing pain flooded his gaze. The whiskey glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor: amber liquid pooling around the shards.

Haziel's grip tightened as she withdrew her rapier, the blade slick with an unexpected shade of purple blood. Her brow furrowed in surprise, the unfamiliar hue momentarily arresting her. She reached for a cloth from her belt, methodically wiping the blade clean. No, it can't be.

Turning back to Dante, Haziel's eyes widened in disbelief. He was already on his feet, calmly brushing the dust from his sleeves.

Haziel's gaze hardened. She channeled her will into her rapier, summoning tendrils of lightning that crackled and danced along its blade. The red arcs cast eerie, flickering shadows across the room, bathing everything in a spectral glow. "Demon..." she hissed, her voice low and venomous.

Dante responded with a slow, mocking smirk. He reached into his pocket with an almost lazy motion, extracting a card. He held it between two fingers, ensuring Haziel had a clear view. The card was exquisitely detailed, the intricate design depicting a figure hanging upside down, bound by one foot to a twisted tree. The number "12" was etched at the top, and beneath it, in elegant script, were the words: The Hanged Man.