They say the greatest accolade an adventurer could earn was retirement.

Timon Quinsley disagreed. All the more so since everyone insisted on sticking an ankle out until he tripped directly into it.

They failed–even with his help.

Year after year, he ensured that the angle of his stooped back and the shuffling of his gait was just a tiny bit more promising. An open invitation for the most ambitious of his juniors to brave a lunge for the chair in his office.

He continued to happily punt them all away.

Retirement, after all, was nothing less than oblivion packaged with a parting gift of flowers and a bottle of wine. And given how famously cheap his colleagues were, he fully expected the flowers to be plucked from beside a sewer and the wine found rolling across his own guild hall.

… If he was lucky.

Still, even if they bothered to dig into their coin purses to offer a man of his years the raucous farewell he deserved, he’d still not have traded even the finest night which crowns could buy for the worst morning he could suffer.

For one thing, if the guildmaster of Reitzlake cared for luxury, that chair would’ve been the first thing to go. It was still as dented as the day he’d first sat upon it. But it was the same chair his predecessor had sat on. And it would be the same for his replacement as well.

Eventually.

But not today.

Adventuring was more than a profession. It was the expression of the soul. And his was as young as the tiny squirrels which liked to visit his hall.

There was less flashing steel and barbed wit these days, of course. The song of battle had been largely replaced by the stony candour of politics, financial considerations and petty rivalries.

But for the kingdom’s most famed and slyest fox, he only grew into his element, his eyes alive with colour even as his hair turned grey. There was a certain joy in fending off the tuttings of headquarters which others failed to appreciate.

However … that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the true joy of adventuring.

The thrill of danger. The warmth of companionship. The breeze of the wide open world. All of it came together like a harmony to serenade his heart. Which was a problem.

Because right now, Timon Quinsley only had the danger part.

Most of it coming from his companions.

Either side of him, Miranda Howe and Mathias Tebrim wore differing shades of ire and resignation as they peered upon what was most certainly a bad day in the making.

A corridor filled to the brim with deadly goblin traps.

It was a poor sign for their health. Even amongst traps, the ones made by goblins held a special ranking for their unnecessary flamboyancy. It wasn’t enough that they incinerated intruders into ashes. They incinerated them into different colours of ashes.

Given the expressions that Timon’s two companions wore, they were about to volunteer to turn him into a shade even the goblins hadn’t invented yet.

“I should have burned your message like I’d planned,” said Mathias, his shoulders sagging. “I want it noted that I became a guildmaster so I would never have to do this again. What exactly am I hiring adventurers for if I still need to get myself killed as if I’m still a fresh-faced F-rank?”

Timon chuckled.

Some might ask him why he’d brought Stermondt’s guildmaster along. And he’d have no answer. They were friends, enemies or rivals depending on the day of the week. But it kept them both on their toes.

And hopefully away from death at the hands of something exploding.

“You hire F-ranks so that you do not need to climb your own rooftop to fetch cats. A much more dangerous proposition for you given the state of your guild hall. A feat I still applaud, by the way. To be in a town of craftsmen and not find a single labourer able to patch the size of your leaks is impressive.”

“Alas, Mr. Quinsley, all the good labourers have long fled. They caught wind that you’d left the royal capital. As there’s a one in four chance you would head east, they had the good prudence to leave.”

“One in four is much too respectable a figure. Given the size of the rats which spawn in your cellar, I’m afraid that Stermondt’s reputation as a travel destination continues to plummet. A shame you lost all that fog. It hid the blemishes well.”

“Quite the shame, indeed. The fog would have ensured the good labourers of Stermondt stayed, knowing your wrinkles would be hidden from their eyes.”

“–Gentlemen, please.”

Miranda Howe frowned.

It was enough.

“I see Marinsgarde has certainly changed,” she said, turning everyone’s attention back to the lethal corridor. “The last time I was here, I don’t recall there being a literal castle. Guildmaster Triniard was being lax with the details as usual.”

“Lax is that man’s specialty,” said Mathias. “It’s a shock he even managed to cause this, given how little he leaves his chair. I see no reason why he shouldn’t be here helping us fix this problem.”

“By all accounts, he’s suffering more than us. Now that the nobles have finally caught wind of this atrocity, Hugo will need to sit through their demands for compensation. No doubt his replacement will be happy. Who’s next in line?”

“I believe it’s Tillie Pilton. Her stock has rapidly risen after the Hartzwiese incident. I hardly see why. It wasn’t her adventurer who helped sort out that mess.”

Timon snorted.

“True. It wasn’t. And as someone who equally benefited from the same adventurer, how does that make you feel?”

“Delighted and deeply grateful, of course. Although I imagine my happiness fails to match yours. You must be pleased, having so efficiently stolen away Cedric Hall’s own prized recruit. He’ll scarcely have a token of acknowledgement.”

“You act as if I did it to wrong him. I promise that’s not the case. I steal promising talent from everyone.”

“Yes, you do,” said Miranda, her voice like a snapping whip. The beginnings of an argument ceased once more. “But she isn’t here. We are. And now we’ve confirmed this most certainly goes beyond the remit of this … cultural exchange Hugo has agreed to. We must make a decision. How do we proceed?”

Both pairs of eyes turned to Timon Quinsley.

Although they were each the same rank, their statuses were as far apart as the wine selection at their respective bars. Timon might be wrapped in a travelling cloak so faded he looked more like a beggar than a guildmaster, but he was first among equals. The de facto leader of the Kingdom of Tirea’s entire Adventurer’s Guild. And that meant he had responsibilities.

Such as rubbing it in the face of his juniors when they came cap in hand.

“We proceed,” he said with a smile.

Groans answered him. But no complaints.

After all, this was not a job for any ordinary adventurer. For it was not a matter of monsters or cats they were dealing with … even if they were often one and the same.

No, this time, it was a matter of one of their own.

Liliane Harten.

Despite Hugo’s letter, Timon hadn’t quite prepared himself for the sight which awaited in Marinsgarde. Goblins as adventurers. And each recommended by Liliane. Unprecedented in this kingdom. That it was agreed was an obvious attempt by Hugo to raise his own standing.

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But it was also shortsighted and foolhardy.

Goblins did not need to be adventurers. For what humans required a copper ring for, they did as a matter of course. They wandered the continent from the forests to the mountains, exploring what was still uncharted, hidden beneath shadow, leaf and stone.

If they were adventurers, then there was very clearly a reason beyond the crowns they didn’t need to earn. For what did goblins need of coins when they could already barter as well as any troll merchant?

No … Guildmaster Triniard was correct to be concerned.

Because in all the times he’d personally met Liliane Harten, she’d never once struck as the type to herald such an ambitious scheme. She was careful, polite and self-conscious. Rare and valuable traits for adventurers. And Timon very much doubted any sudden change boded for the better.

Seeing what he did now, he knew it was all but certain.

“You’re simply overjoyed that Hugo reached out to you, aren’t you?” said Mathias.

“Of course I am. Our fellow guildmasters rarely do secrets. A letter sealed for my eyes only can mean only two things. An unannounced inspection is occurring, or something calamitous has happened. We should be grateful it’s only something calamitous.”

Miranda bit her lips as she gazed at the corridor to be crossed.

Though the youngest amongst them, she looked the most experienced of all. A natural candour born from her noble ancestry.

“Yes, well, this doesn’t disappoint,” she said. “Even now, I’m not certain what’s more strange. That Liliane has lost the plot or the fact that you would deem it so alarming that you needed us as well.”

“It cannot be helped. If there are concerns regarding the conduct of one of their own, that would normally be a local matter. But an A-rank adventurer concerns the entire kingdom. And that means we all bear responsibility.”

“We know what you’re doing, you old man. You wish for us all to be involved if this turns out horribly.”

“That I do. And still you came.”

“Of course. Both Mathias and I are not as free as you. We cannot afford to spend time at your funeral.”

“Your kind words never fail to warm my heart, Miranda.”

“Good.” Miranda raised her palms. “Your muscles should be relaxed. I’ll attempt to levitate us past. I believe we can avoid the majority of these traps if we simply take the high route. But it will be slow going if I’m to hoist both of your egos.”

Timon was about to point out only Mathias needed a helping hand. Great as his ego was, it still wasn’t too heavy for his legs–despite what his stooped back might suggest.

A moment later, it was something he needed to prove.

The guildmasters turned their eyes towards the corridor behind them. Gone was the bickering of old colleagues as their words were swept away by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

And not just one.

A stampede was approaching.

“Fast going it is, then,” said Miranda. “[Major Levitate].”

Magic swirled in the former B-rank mage’s hands. Both she and Mathias rose. Even faster since her magic didn’t need to be shared with Timon.

The old man who walked with shunted steps did away with the guise which lacked only a walking stick. Faster than any spell which could be cast upon him, he leapt upwards, his soles finding the wall before propelling himself all the way up to the exposed ceiling beams.

He was joined a moment later by Miranda and Mathias.

At such a height, the magic expenditure meant neither the seasoned mage nor her burden could move. But none of them needed to. They simply needed to wait for that to pass.

A horde of redcaps.

Highly dangerous foes in their own right. What they lacked in size, they made up for in violence. Timon had seen what redcaps could do. And that was to their own summoner. Even now, he wasn’t sure where all the blood came from.

That was just a small group.

Now it was an entire warband. A scene worthy of nightmares … and yet the gasps he heard from his colleagues were not for them.

It was for the pair currently being chased by them.

A clockwork doll. A rare enough sight in the Kingdom of Tirea. She smiled as nigh on every trap was triggered in the same corridor they’d moments ago been discussing. The result was nothing short of unfettered carnage. A carnival of destruction which rose as high as Timon’s ankles.

All things a highly capable clockwork doll might be expected to evade … but not the girl beside her, no older than the youngest waitress a proprietor might trust not to break their plates.

A girl who simply refused to be struck.

One by one, the corridor came alive with death’s glare as tiles clicked, cogs groaned and blades swung. But it was not with the breathlessness of desperation that she avoided it all. It was with the disdain of Timon disregarding the letters from headquarters.

Saws, scythes and blades swished around her, joined by bursts of hellfire and the screaming of arrows.

Even so, she didn’t roll to and fro like a seasoned thief, nor did she deny the rush of death with a burst of magic or the swipe of a shield.

She simply … skipped.

Instruments which would have incinerated or decapitated an acrobat from the Cirque du Sable found only air. And if they were lucky, one of several afterimages. Such was the girl’s absurd footwork, only a garuda could have tracked her. And she didn’t even look like she was trying.

In fact–

“The alpaca. I would give that toxic cloud shape a generous 7/10 … maybe 8/10.”

She was having a conversation!

Timon Quinsley was the longest serving guildmaster in the kingdom. And while few knew the truth of who he was before that, he had seen rogues so swift that elven blademasters seemed as sluggish as a drifting leaf. Most notably in a mirror.

But this–

This was something else.

“What …” whispered Mathias, his complaints stopped at last. “What am I seeing ... ?”

It was a reasonable question.

But although Timon also didn’t know what he was seeing, he knew with every instinct of his being who he was seeing.

He knew it as certain as the dark colour of her hair. The ruby pommel of the sword by her hip. The clockwork doll by her side. And an appearance which would have headquarters begging for her to grace their recruitment posters.

It was her.

Juliette.

The Kingdom of Tirea’s very own enigma.

One whose name was apparently known to every receptionist. He was in Trierport when he received the A-rank certificate to be signed. A notion so absurd, so unprecedented and so certain to cause faces to pale at headquarters that he had no choice but to immediately accept.

Especially since Mirabelle had practically threatened him with paperwork if he refused.

The shock of seeing her landed harder than any of the explosions. So much so, that even as they faded and left only the scars in its wake, both Miranda and Mathias were already gawping amidst the flaming wreckage as he jumped down to join them.

The chaos was complete.

What had once been a corridor was now so vapourised that not even the original colour of the floor remained. Yet for all the embers, not a single eye was upon them. They were upon the backs which had vanished into the distance, lost amidst a cavern entrance.

Miranda began to mouth a question. She needed a second to remember to vocalise words as well.

“Mr. Quinsley, was that … ?”

Timon nodded in answer.

There were questions to be asked. Highly pertinent ones, considering that redcaps were not summoned idly, and the only capable conjurer they were aware of was the very same they were hoping to query.

But like all humans, they could only focus on what was before them. And that was the image of a girl who’d casually waltzed through death while purposefully leading a chasing horde through it.

“... A fine display,” said Timon with a smile. “Better than me at that age, certainly.”

Mathias blinked, his astonishment only growing by the moment.

“Timon … is that who I think it is?”

“I believe so, yes. Although you’d need Mirabelle to confirm it. They seem to be close knitted, after all. I should offer my receptionist more credit. Seeing such footwork, I’m surprised she ever managed to catch up to her.”

“Did you know she was going to be here? Is this some scheme for us to judge her ourselves? … Because I don’t think I am mad if it is.”

Timon gave a hoarse laugh.

“I’ve my hand in more schemes than I have fingers to spare, but this isn’t one of them.”

“... Honestly?”

“Honestly. I didn’t expect to find her here. But perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Mathias swallowed a gulp.

“It seems our presence might be unneeded, after all. I would say it was a waste to come here, but to see who dispelled the fog in my town is worth any trip. I’m told she defeated both an A-rank cleric and a vampire under her thrall. I never could have imagined she was so young.”

“Youth is a strength, not a weakness. And her steps have yet to be dulled by the experience of defeat.”

“She must be here for the same reason as us,” said Miranda. “I see now it’s Hugo’s turn to benefit. Do we offer our assistance?”

Timon gave a hum.

Ordinarily, it was nothing short of common sense for them to join hands. But nothing about that girl featured in any definition of the word.

“With our legs? I think not. She didn’t navigate the kingdom from Rolstein to Hartzwiese by slowing her pace for guildmasters flailing in her wake.”

“We cannot do nothing.”

“I never said we would. Our task remains unchanged. It may just have become simpler.”

“... You wish to leave the matter of Liliane to her?”

“I’ve simply a mind not to interfere to all our detriment. Our role is to assist. And I believe currently, this is best achieved at a respectable distance.”

Timon smiled as he led the way.

The two with him traded sighs. But the usual snorts were absent.

After all, they were each of the same mind. The same curiosity. Disbelieving their own eyes, they wished to see even more how this mysterious young adventurer fared in the darkness ahead.

And a goblin cavern was about as dark as they got.