Guildmaster Crispin stepped off the path, waiting between the tents until the supply wagon had passed before continuing. 3rd division’s field camp was a bustling hive of activity, so much so that it sometimes reminded the aging adventurer of Pel Harvand on market day. He quickened his step to reach an intersection before a marching formation blocked it, then turned towards the camp’s center. He could’ve slowed down again but chose not to. The feeling of the sun on his face, his sword on his belt, his legs eating up the distance… It conjured up memories of a time before his position had shackled him to a desk. Striving for the highest position in the Guild had been his choice, and he had worked long and hard to achieve his goal. Still, he couldn’t help but miss what he had left behind. Marching with the army, taking to the field with his guildmates… Crispin hadn’t felt so alive in over a decade.
The soldiers at the outer perimeter barely glanced at him as he passed by, but his goal lay further in. The inner perimeter guards were a lot more vigilant, but they merely nodded at him, a gesture which he returned. The innermost sanctum of the camp only held a handful of tents and wagons, providing maximum security for the most essential personnel. He arrived at his destination, the two elite bodyguards blocking the entrance stepping aside as he approached.
“Good afternoon, Guildmaster,” one of them greeted him. “He is expecting you.”
“Thank you.”
He entered the tent, finding the inhabitant alone at the wooden table, poring over a scroll.
“You wanted to see me, Your Grace?”
Duke Harvand looked up with a smile. “Crispin. Yes, thank you for coming. We received a missive from General Asher earlier today, one that I wanted to get your opinion on.”
The duke pulled a rolled-up scroll from a pile beside him and pushed it towards the Guildmaster, who sat down opposite the duke to take it.
“Tea?” Duke Harvand asked, getting up to refill his empty cup at a kettle on a small stove.
“Please,” Crispin answered, unfurling the scroll and beginning to read. For a short while, the sound of tea gurgling into cups was the only thing heard in the tent.
“By the gods!” Crispin blurted out, rearing back involuntarily.
The duke chuckled. “I had a similar reaction when I first read it.” He gingerly placed the hot tea in the Guildmaster’s reach, then walked back around the table to his chair. During their months of marching and fighting together, the two had become something like friends. Friendship was always hard for those in the highest positions of power, but despite a decade separating the two in age, they shared not only the heavy burden of command but also a similar temperament.
“The cavalry has been tormenting us for months, and they wipe them out in an afternoon?”
“Keep going. It gets better.”
Again, there was silence. Duke Harvand sat back down, carefully slurping some piping hot tea as he watched the other man’s expressions change, trying to gauge from them where exactly in the missive he was. Worry, amazement, then shock. The night attack.
“A mage trying to assassinate other mages?!” Crispin stuttered. “How… oh gods, what has the world become?”
The duke nodded sadly. “This is what I have been fearing ever since the war began. The longer this goes on, the more the gloves will come off. For 5th division, the conflict has reached a new level. Before long, it will reach the rest of us as well. Keep going.”
Crispin was still rearing from what he had read, but he turned back to the document, the contents of which quickly drew him back in. The disbelief on his face grew until he set down the missive, stunned.
“They captured Artelby in a single day? Are we sure this is real and not some Marradi ploy?”
“Quite sure,” the duke answered. “It is not just the seal, there are codes and procedures that are much harder to falsify. Either this came directly from General Asher, or Marradi intelligence has penetrated our operational security so deeply, they might as well be using us as sock puppets. Artelby has fallen.”
Crispin leaned back heavily, the wooden chair creaking and shifting under his weight. He wasn’t a tactician or a strategist, but his position meant that he got to attend most high-level meetings, so he had picked up a thing or two.
“This changes everything, doesn’t it?”
“Quite.”
“What did General Marcus say?”
The duke chuckled. “He said very little before he rushed out of here. The last time I saw the old man this happy was when he held my newborn child. He looked like he was about to start skipping. He has holed up with his staff now, reworking our strategy from the ground up as far as I can tell. There will be a meeting shortly, I am sure, but this is not why I called you. Go ahead and read the final remarks.”
The duke settled down and drank some more of his tea while Crispin finished the missive, the older man’s cup standing forgotten. Finally, the guildmaster put the letter down and rubbed his eyes.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“They had an eventful week, didn’t they?”
Duke Harvand nodded, placing his cup back on the table. “As you can see, Asher has nothing but the highest praise for your guildmates. I know the man from his time in the general staff. It may not read like it, but for him, this is the equivalent of a boy swooning over a maid. I hoped to get your take on it first.”
“Of course.”
The duke leaned forward. “First of all, Asher seems to have transitioned to using his adventurers almost exclusively as a vanguard or elite strike force. Considering how much you fought to keep that exact thing from happening, I am surprised at your lack of objection. Is this something we should do as well, then? Do you want to lead your men in daring attacks into the heart of the enemy?”
The duke had expected his question to lead to any number of reactions, but Crispin’s hearty laughter wasn’t one of them. He leaned back, waiting for the other man to collect himself. When he answered, he was still grinning like a boy.
“I think I’m good, thank you for the offer. Scouting and flank protection aren’t glamorous, but we’re happy to do it.”
“But you are content with 5th division’s practices?”
Crispin cocked his head, thinking for a moment. “When I threatened you with outright mutiny back in the capital, my goal wasn’t to force one specific course of action. What I was trying to do, and I think I achieved, was to give my people a choice. I hadn’t thought of the Pel Darnians specifically, but hearing about it, I’m not at all surprised that they were unhappy with the same arrangement we have.”
The duke looked confused, so Crispin continued.
“Do you know why people become adventurers? Everyone has their own reasons, of course, but they can be broadly categorized into two groups. The first is what I like to call ‘sensible people’. They need to earn money to feed their families, and they’re willing to take a calculated risk to do so. Sure, adventuring is dangerous, but deaths are rare. We also enjoy a reasonably high social standing, especially considering that you don’t need any specific skills to join us. Sensible people join the chapter closest to them, they do their job diligently, but safely, and finally retire to a clerical position or some other low-risk occupation like tending bars or shops.”
The duke raised his eyebrows, but Crispin simply smiled and kept going.
“The other category is whom I like to call ‘the nutters’. Maybe they’ve heard one too many tales about heroic adventurers as children. Maybe they lost someone dear to them to a monster attack. Maybe they grew up looking at an unnecessarily huge statue of Lionel Lidion and thought to themselves ‘I could do that too’, or maybe they just get a kick out of the unique mixture of terror and excitement you only experience when your life is on the line. Either way, for them adventuring isn’t just a job, it’s a calling. Have you ever wondered why Pel Darni has by far the most adventurers of any city despite being in the farthest corner of the duchy? They have fewer youngsters joining the army, sure, but that’s a footnote.
“The real answer is that it’s the birthplace of the Guild itself, the home of Lionel Lidion, and the most dangerous posting for adventurers there is. With all of those factors together, at least four out of five nutters will happily pack their belongings and move to the opposite end of the duchy if they have to, just to be there. Like your army divisions, the different chapters have a healthy degree of rivalry, but everyone agrees that the Darnians are the crazy ones. The rest of us, we fight monsters because someone has to and because we get paid for it. They do it because they like it. There is no way people like that would just sit back and watch the war from the sidelines.”
“Interesting,” the duke said, nodding slowly. “I had never thought about that. It makes sense, I suppose, especially considering 5th division is entirely made up of fresh recruits. 3rd division’s men are extremely good at what they do, but if they were not, I imagine you would have a harder time watching from afar as well.”
“Very likely.”
The duke picked up his cup again, taking a sip and then draining it when he realized that the beverage had cooled sufficiently. Reminded of his own drink, Crispin picked up his cup and took a long draught.
“That answers the general question I had,” Duke Harvand continued, “but there are some specifics I was curious about as well. Asher keeps mentioning Bordan, the adventurer who is in charge of 5th division’s contingent. What do you know about him?”
“Very little,” Crispin admitted. “Only what Chaptermaster Hector wrote to me after he appointed him, and Bordan’s letter of introduction to me afterwards. He’s a former soldier, a decorated combat veteran if I recall correctly – that’s why Hector chose him. It seems to have been a good choice, as you said Asher had nothing but praise for him. I’ve never met him, though. He hadn’t been with the guild for too long, and even then I rarely leave the capital.”
The duke nodded. “And what about this Edwin fellow? It is not just this report, he has been mentioned by name once or twice in the past.”
The guildmaster shook his head. “I know even less than about the other one. Hector listed the members of Bordan’s party, but his focus was on the mage girl, Salissa. The others were barely mentioned.”
“Do you remember the joint goblin suppression force, where 5th division and Pel Darni adventurers defeated a shaman? It was toward the end of the monster wave, a few months before this mess started.”
“Sure.”
“I knew the names sounded familiar, so I had someone dig out the detailed report.” He tapped his fingers on the piece of paper in front of him. “It is quite fascinating. If I had read only one of these documents, I would assume that whoever wrote it was guilty of embellishment. Reading them side by side, I am starting to think that they might both be true.” He paused, smiling. “It also lends credence to your ‘nutter’ theory. It seems to be quite the eclectic group of people Asher has found himself with. Combine that with a mage contingent crazy enough to strap a ritual to a rock and a master mage willing to accompany troops into the heart of an enemy fortification, and I begin to understand why they are so successful.”
The tent flap opened, admitting one of the guards. “Message from General Marcus, Your Grace. He invites you to join him in the command center at your leisure.”
The duke rose. “He probably has a preliminary plan he wants to show me. Would you like to join us?”
“I might,” Crispin answered, downing his tea and rising as well. “It is the fate of the New World we’re talking about, after all.”
“I figured,” Duke Harvand said, chuckling. “Come on then, Crispin, history waits for no man.”
“While that may be true, Your Grace,” Crispin answered as he followed his liege out of the tent. “I would be surprised to find history itself holding the briefing, and I doubt General Marcus will begin without you.”
The duke half-turned, looking back at the Guildmaster with narrowed eyes. “So you do want to be put in charge of an assault team?”
“I would love nothing more,” Crispin said, managing to keep the mirth off his face as he patted his sword. “Maybe you would like to join me? We could ask the General to come as well, I’m sure he would love the opportunity.”
The duke groaned. “On second thought, let us not do that. The old coot would be tempted.”
Crispin was still grinning as the duke led the way into the command center.