POV Dralik:

“So far, nothing. No mention of a man named Quill,” said Goroth, Dralik’s knight.

“That’s strange. Have you checked all the libraries yet?” Dralik asked.

“No, there are just too many here, in the capital. Too many small bookshops to large cathedral-style libraries. Even if I checked them all, most of the library heads don’t want to talk to me, at least without knowing who I represent.”

“Well, if word gets out that I’m searching for some [ scribe], it’s going to draw the wrong type of attention.”

“It’s a pointless search. Unless every one of your servants was searching, I don’t think we’d stand a chance at finding our culprit.”

Dralik and Goroth rounded the corner within the merchant section of the capital. The majority of people down here were gutter trash, scrambling around and earning coins as if their lives mattered. It was as far down in the capital’s hierarchy that a noble like Dralik could tolerate.

A commotion could be heard from the adventurer’s guild as Dralik and Goroth strolled by. From the sound of the commotion, it was that elf trash. Dralik hardly knew why the King of Calfor made so many concessions for the two hundredth or whatever removed nobody that worked for the adventurer’s guild.

If Dralik were running the country, he would kick all those traitorous bastards out of the country. If they wanted to act too good for the kingdom of Calfor, then the kingdom of Calfor was too good for them.

He took a peek inside. He grinned as he saw some commoner causing the elf’s head to implode. Figuratively, of course.

“No, Grog will not cut off his hand as a distraction for Grunkor. There’s not a chance that Grunkor will be able to pierce an Ice Wyvern’s scales.”

“I agree with Siora on this one, Grunkor. Grog’s going to be a better asset if he has his hands. Also, it does seem a little harsh.”

“It was a suggestion. If Wyvern thinks like Borib, that is the move.”

Dralik barely noticed the small goblin. Odd, he looked familiar. He sounded familiar.

“Who was that Innkeeper in Lucridge, Gorog?”

“Uh, I think it was Grunkor. I wonder if that’s the same goblin?” Asked Gorog.

Dralik and Goroth both stood outside the guild. Dralik eye’d Goroth.

“We wait,” he stated.

Dralik knew it would be unwise to enter. He didn’t exactly get along with the elf, which made him an unpopular person where she worked. Instead, Dralik and Goroth decided to tail the goblin after they exited the adventurer’s guild.

It felt like hours had gone by as Dralik was forced to listen to the mindless drivel that came out of all three of their mouths. Why was the idiot commoner so convinced that he would lead the expedition? Why was the goblin convinced that rats were proper field rations? It didn’t make sense. Although, in reality, it wasn’t long before Grunkor and the younger man with a book held between his hands exited the guild together. Dralik and Goroth made sure to stand a good distance from either of them.

They walked, taking their time as if Dralik’s time didn’t matter. Dralik knew it was irrational to think that the person they were spying on would be considerate enough to oblige the person they didn’t even know was stalking them.

They headed towards a grande-looking door.

“Goroth, what building is that?” asked Dralik.

“I don’t know. Perhaps a church, or an estate. The lack of products outside makes me think that it isn’t a storefront.”

“Could it be a library? Or some sort of office building?”

“No. I would’ve seen it on the King’s registry if it was either of those types of buildings. All scholarly buildings are required to be registered and known publicly. I wouldn’t have missed it on the list.”

Dralik frowned. It was one thing to stalk someone through the streets; it was another thing entirely to break into someone’s private property.

“Well, check the King’s registry, and if that does reveal anything, gather some of the men and conduct an investigation,” said Dralik.

“Yes, sir,” responded Goroth.

Dralik was going to get to the bottom of this.

Vesper's POV:

Inside the Elysium Library, Vesper entered. He wasn’t really supposed to enter in the afternoon, but Vesper did feel obligated to turn in the book he had casually borrowed. Grunkor stood by the entrance, waiting for Vesper to come back.

Behind some of the bookshelves, Vesper heard Fartmor’s voice.

“Did the shipment arrive? I’ve found a way in without the guards noticing. It’ll be a bit of a hike, but not even the King will know.”

“Are you sure? It’s my dukedom and my people that are in jeopardy.”

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“And there won’t be a problem. Calm down. No need to worry. I’ve accounted for everything.”

Vesper set the book down and made his way to the exit. This was not something he wanted to get involved in. Carefully, Vesper pushed the large door open, and Vesper and Grunkor left the library.

Vesper went back to his generic inn, and Grunkor went into the sewers.

Vesper had offered Grunkor a spot in his room. There was certainly room for both of them, but Grunkor refused. It wasn’t that Vesper’s inn wasn’t good; it was just that Grunkor’s sewer was just better. It was the difference between living like a King or a merchant. Grunkor wasn’t going to live life anything less than like a King. So Vesper watched in disbelief as the small goblin crawled down into the dark abyss.

Dread filled every inch of Vesper as he awoke on the day that Olbin would arrive. Still, Vesper had work, so he pushed his thoughts about Olbin into the back of his mind, or at least tried to. Vesper was so preoccupied; he didn’t notice Fartmor sneak up behind him, clutching The Legal Guide to the Adventurer’s Guild.

“Vesper, I’m afraid you forgot your book. I could’ve sworn I saw you take it with you, but I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Yeah, I guess I forgot it.” Vesper chuckled nervously.

“Just a helpful tip. The library isn’t something to roam during non-working hours. I cannot stress that enough. Be careful. I’m afraid I couldn’t help you if you happened to hear something you weren’t supposed to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Fartmor.”

“Make sure you do.” Fartmor patted Vesper on the back, harder than what Vesper would consider friendly. He strolled away.

The girl sitting across from Vesper smirked. Vesper’s annoying reading habits made them not the closest in terms of friendship.

“He must like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The last nosy little shit to poking around his business didn’t get a warning. The guards found him committing ‘suicide’ in his inn two days later.”

“Why tell me this? Now, I’m not going to be able to sleep,” complained Vesper.

The girl [ Bookworm] just shrugged as if whether or not Vesper could fall asleep didn’t matter to her. Vesper found this quite rude.

He focused on the books in front of him, pointing out exits with the proficiency of a not-so-proficient and slightly-under-mediocre [Bookworm]. This was with [Increased Reading Speed] activated.

The more he read, the more his mind wandered to how Fartmor acted, how he avoided any questions about the relevance of their work, and how this had affected Quill. If what he knew was true, no one working under Fartmor really knew what he was doing with their information. That was the sentiment that Vesper got.

The problem wasn’t that the workers within the Elysium Library didn’t have any information about what was going on. The problem was that each, and every [Scribe], [Bookworm], and [Scholar] played an instrumental role working on uncovering different sorts of information. Information they failed to share with each other.

Vesper knew that Fartmor was looking for exits, but did the snarky [Bookworm] across from him know that? No, and neither did Vesper know about whatever she was scribbling on her little piece of paper.

It made it impossible to know what Fartmor was using the information for. That wasn’t Vesper’s problem, or at least that was what he kept telling himself. He clocked in and out like any of the others.

Vesper suspected for all scenarios Quill conjured in his head that he didn’t know what Fartmor used the information for. Quill let the unknown fester in his mind, slowly growing, eating away at his sanity.

Vesper’s mind wandered, and he struggled to make any meaningful work for the day. Soon noon came, and Vesper was released from his duties. Fartmor was stern, sterner than before. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and there was no mending the rift that Vesper had caused between him and Fartmor.

Grunkor stood outside the door, waiting for Vesper. Today was the day. Not the day a group of fools left on their adventure, nor was it the day that Grunkor recouped his lost coin. Today was not the day that Vesper figured out what the ever living hell he was doing. Some would argue that day would never come, but that’s beside the point.

Olbin was coming to the capital. And Vesper had lied a tiny bit; fudged some of the things on his letter. He needed to make the best of this situation, so he gathered the party. Some, like Grunkor, were more willing than some of the others.

“Why do I need to be here? It’s bad enough that I was strong-armed into going on this suicide run,” complained Siora as Vesper and Grunkor arrived at the city gate.

“Don’t be so negative. Trust me, you’ll want him in our party. Don’t go scaring him away,” said Vesper.

“It’ll be my moral obligation to scare him away.”

“It’ll also be how you end in the jaws of a wyvern.”

“That’s happening either way.”

Vesper and Siora were too busy bickering to notice that Olbin had walked up to them.

“Ah, Vesper, it’s good to see you. What an amazing opportunity that you found. Hi, you must be the party’s ranger.” Said Olbin, his hand outstretched towards Siora.

“Something like that,”: Siora coughed.

Olbin his hands on his hips. So where’s the big guy? The absolute beast, with the brains of a genius. The perfect specimen, as Vesper put it. Really, quite poetic.

“That would be Grog.” said Vesper. He pointed at Grog.

“I am Grog,” said Grog.

“Well, you sure get straight to the point. Don’t mind me asking but what’s your class, Grog.”

“[Barbarian].”

Not really a thinking man’s class, but never judge a person by their class.” Olbin let out an uncomfortable sigh.

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” said Vesper.

“Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear?” asked Olbin.

“Well, Grog is a gold-ranked adventurer. But, uh, Siora isn’t an [archer], Grunkor over there is an [innkeeper], I think, and I’m technically leading the expedition.”

“Are you kidding me? You said I’d be joining a team of gold rank adventurers because they saw my worth, not a team of misfits. So you’re telling me that this lot is supposed to slay a Grand Ice Wyvern?”

Olbin paced back and forth, muttering to himself. His optimistic face was replaced with one full of doubt and constant loathing.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Trash team. Shit.” Olbin repeated to himself.

“Look, I’m the first to admit this isn’t ideal, Olbin. But it’s the only opportunity people like you and me have. Think about what that gold would do, the opportunity it would give you,” reasoned Vesper.

“I’m going to die. Shit. Shit....” Olbin kept pacing nervously.

“Oh god. He’s a coward,” Siora realized.

Grunkor shook his head. This was not how you bonded as a team. He’d been in many Goblin hunts and dealt with leading many goblins. If he’d learned anything in the past years, living in human lands, it was that humans were just big ugly dumb goblins.

“Shutup! Grunkor thinks you all smell like dirt. If you not wanna die, listen here! Grunkor is in charge, and that Wyvern will die to our blades and strength!” roared the small goblin.

Olbin looked around at the group.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“You doing this, or I’ll beat the sense into you!” screamed the little goblin. He didn’t mean it, but this was how you riled up the troops.

The group stood up straighter.

“He does have a point,” Siora added.

“Grog agrees,” Grog agreed.

Vesper nodded as if that contributed anything to the conversation.

“So, what’s the plan?” Olbin asked, now calm.

“Well, I haven’t figured that part out yet. Now that we’re all gathered, we’ll need to prepare,” said Vesper.

“Prepare? Hammer kills Wyvern,” said Grog, confused.

Siora eye’d Grog.

“Yes, Grog. We should prepare,” she said.

So the five of them split, for now.