Timon Quinsley didn’t miss this part.

He missed it even less now that his eyes were worse.

Inside the goblin cave, everything which existed to remind him of his warm office glinted beneath the rare bouts of light. There was romance in adventuring, of course. In the sunlight streaming through a forest canopy, in the glittering of a starry sky and in the crackling of a campfire.

But none of it could be found here.

“[Eye Of The Seeker]”.

Before him, Miranda Howe called forth a spectral eye to follow the footsteps of the pair in front.

Ensuring they remained at a healthy distance, the three guildmasters played a dance they hadn’t performed for many years. Even so, it was one which came as naturally to them as declining the discretionary bonuses their adventurers felt they deserved after every commission. Even if they failed.

As Miranda focused on concealing her magic, both Timon Quinsley and Mathias Tebrim helped to ensure that their very particular mage didn’t step into any water slimes. The guildmaster of Eisenwaldt with a will as steely as her town was known for many things, but the ability to endure slightly wet soles was seemingly just beyond her reach.

Timon quite liked that about her. Although he’d never say it.

He valued the grey hair he had left.

Quietly, with only the minimum of whispers to confirm their quarry remained in front, the seasoned trio shook away the dust upon their bones as they relived the footsteps they’d taken in a different cave somewhere multiple times in the past.

Only when the faint murmurings of voices could be heard did they stop. They waited for the echoes to vanish once again. This time, they didn’t.

“They’ve stopped,” said Mathias. “Dare we see why?”

Miranda nodded. She sent her spectral eye forwards.

A bead of sweat was already falling down her temple. Her [Eye Of The Seeker] was not a simple spell, and ensuring it remained hidden was even less so.

“There’s a treasure chest,” she said simply, before her brows dented. “... Mimic.”

Both Mathias and Timon traded groans. They hushed themselves at once.

Every single adventurer past D-rank had experiences with mimics. And none of them pleasant. By and large, they weren’t the most dangerous of monsters. But to be assailed by a mimic’s tongue was a sensation which only magefire and therapy could cure.

It was not a danger for A-rank adventurers … but this girl had climbed the ranks at a pace which outdid all known records. The only concern to Timon was that what was considered a past experience to others of her rank might just be the first experience for her.

“... And?” asked Mathias. “Is she ignoring it?”

“No.”

“She’s opening the mimic?”

“Still no. She appears to be pushing it. Towards a ledge.”

Mathias nodded at once.

“Hm. So opting to remove it instead. And not even by destroying it. Highly prudent. She must know that when mimics are destroyed, the treasure within bursts outwards like an explosion.”

A moment later–

“... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh …”

A bellowing, girlish scream filled the cavern.

“What in the hells was that?” asked Mathias, hand going to his sword.

“I don’t know,” replied Miranda plainly, tilting her head as she navigated her spectral eye. “Wait a moment, I need to fix this. The high pitch of the scream shook my spellwork.”

Silence abounded as the men waited for an update on what horrific monstrosity required their attention. It was several minutes before they received their answer.

“... Hm. Now this is a surprise. Thomas’s protégé is here.”

“Thomas’s?” Mathias blinked as he searched for a name. “… Wait, you mean the Oxwell boy?”

“The very same. He appears to have a cat on his head.”

“What is he doing here? The girl is one thing. But he cannot possibly know about Liliane as well.”

“I’m uncertain. But it appears as if they’re already acquainted. At the very least, the girl seems pleased to meet him. She’s laughing quite … violently.”

“Violently?”

“I can’t explain it. But it looks rather theatrical. They seem to be on good terms.”

A mystery within a mystery.

One which nobody had the answer to.

Timon indulged in his thoughts.

The most accomplished new adventurer and now the student of Thomas Lainsfont. How in the world they would already know each other was inexplicable to him. But if this girl was associated with Thomas Lainsfont, it would explain much. And yet there was no scenario in which a man very much not inclined to teaching would take on two students.

“A strange thing,” he said, his amused voice almost inaudible. “It appears everybody has become acquainted with my own adventurer before I have. Next I’ll be told even the Snow Dancer knows her.”

Mathias snorted.

“If it makes you feel any better, half of your adventurers wish they didn’t know you.”

“Hoo. That one almost stung. Keep at it, and maybe you’ll draw out a pity smile before I die.”

“Gen-tle-men.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

““Sorry.””

A simultaneous apology met Miranda’s hard smile as she briefly broke from her spell. She returned as the voices vanished into the distance.

The guildmasters were silent in their own deliberations as they proceeded onwards, following the distant echoes. They delved past things darker than shadows and dead things pretending to be alive, until soon, even Timon’s thoughts were turning back to original matters at hand.

These caves were far more extensive than he could have predicted. Guildmaster Triniard was more than lax. He was wilfully blind–as was much of Marinsgarde, their eyes veiled by the roaring trade in items that the Holy Church would no doubt issue a very stern protest regarding.

Items he could have used.

Even so, it wasn’t the lack of light which caused him to almost stumble. It was the concerns regarding Liliane’s abrupt turn of personality. He’d seen it before, of course. As an adventurer, a guildmaster, and something else far less principled. Yet few times did he feel as certain in his unease as now.

He hoped very much this was a misunderstanding.

In which case, a pointed word or two was all that was required.

If not, well–

Improvisation would be necessary.

“Bugbear,” said Miranda suddenly.

The guildmasters slowed, but didn’t pause.

Somewhere, the sound of conversation hinted at life in the darkness. And not all of it from the two adventurers and their clockwork assistant. Soon it became clearer. The voice of a bugbear, boasting the naturally stern tone which made it seem like they were permanently disgruntled.

Usually because they were.

“A patrol?” asked Mathias.

“No, stationary … a single bugbear guarding an entrance. Heavily armed.”

“A bugbear champion, then. The pick of the bunch. Not the merriest news.”

Miranda frowned, her lips pursing.

“It seems the Oxwell boy is aware of that. He appears utterly … well, bewildered.”

The guildmaster of Reitzlake nodded.

Confusion was all too common a response when suddenly facing a superior foe. The fear came immediately afterwards.

“What of our adventurer?” he asked.

“She’s engaging in dialogue with the bugbear. It doesn’t appear favourable. Should we assist?”

Timon briefly closed his eyes.

Normally, he’d not think twice about declining. The girl had doubtless faced worse.

But the Oxwell boy shouldn’t be here … and he was Thomas’s lad, no matter what the kingdom’s least sociable barkeeper said. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen to his next drink if he allowed the boy to permanently gain a dent on his forehead.

After a moment of thought, he nodded.

“Then let’s do that,” he said lightly.

All of a sudden, the bad leg which had long healed was forgotten.

Betraying the lightest of footsteps, Timon skipped forwards until he was glancing past the corner. What he saw there was a sight which would give any adventurer reason to pause.

A bugbear arrayed with more weapons than he had arms to use … and that wasn’t even counting the warhammer stuck in the ground like a sign nobody could misunderstand.

“... I can immobilise him,” said Miranda, extinguishing her [Eye Of The Seeker] as she followed. “Mathias, how do you fare with your sword now?”

“Less well than 20 years ago,” admitted the former C-rank just behind her.

“That will do. Mr. Quinsley?”

Timon’s answer was to hold his hand up.

“Wait. Something’s happening.”

His fellow guildmasters joined him in peeking past the corner.

Frowns, uncertainty and apprehension flickered across each of their faces as the bugbear stilled. Yet in an instant, their expressions turned to dismay as the warhammer was suddenly lifted.

Miranda clicked her tongue. A pale light appeared in her palms at the same time that a throwing knife appeared between Mathias’s fingers.

Only Timon didn’t move.

A moment later, neither did his colleagues. They could only gawp instead.

Fwump.

Because without a single movement from the girl … a bugbear sturdy enough to ram down a building wildly stumbled backwards, before dropping like a marionette severed at the strings.

Just like that.

The song of battle had come to an end before the first string was even plucked.

The three guildmasters blinked in unison.

No words were exchanged between them. But none were needed. Their open mouths were enough.

At least for a moment.

“What in the abyss just happened?” whispered Mathias, as they each hurriedly retreated behind their corner. “Did she just take down a bugbear … with what? Magic?”

The almost childish look of shock on his face was enough to shave a decade’s worth of wrinkles. It was shared by Miranda, whose usual seriousness was lost amidst her brows dented in confusion.

“There was no magic there. I’m sure of it. It was just … nothing.”

“It can’t have been nothing. I just saw a young girl bring down a bugbear so large I wouldn’t dare go drinking against him, much less fight. How did she do that?”

“I’m uncertain. Perhaps if I had my [Eye Of The Seeker] still active, I would have seen something.”

“That something had to be interference. She didn’t even draw her sword.”

Suddenly, Timon Quinsley let out a short note of amusement. His eyes glimmered with life as he turned to his colleagues. Neither of them wanted to look at him and the smirk to come.

“... Is that what you think now, Mathias?” he asked, the satisfaction clear in his tone. “Can you truly say for certain the girl didn’t draw her sword?”

Stermondt’s guildmaster blinked. A moment later, his open mouth only widened further.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Indeed, I am.” Timon nodded seriously, even as the edges of his lips curled upwards. “That girl … drew her sword so fast none of us could see it.”

Quiet gasps met the veteran guildmaster’s declaration.

No challenge came his way.

After all, they’d all seen it with their own eyes. Or rather, they hadn’t.

“I’ve seen something like this before,” said Timon, forehead wrinkling as distant memories were rekindled in his mind. “A strike so swift it appears as though the blade never left the sheath.”

Mathias slowly nodded, even as a frown appeared.

“I’ve seen it as well … although not nearly as clean. And even then, it required great concentration and form. The girl didn’t assume any kind of ready posture. She was just … standing there.”

“Indeed, while many claim to possess the ability to draw faster than an owl can track, few can do it as swift as a sudden breeze … yet that doesn’t mean they do not exist.”

“The elves, you mean.”

Timon grinned.

“Indeed. It’s said that only elven sword singers know it. Those who have dedicated a thousand years to perfecting the art of the blade, all to wield a sword technique unbeholden to the laws of this world.”

“I’ve heard of that as well,” said Miranda, her brows furrowing more than ever. “Even elven mages speak of such a thing at times. Are you saying that was it?”

A small chuckle was her reply, followed by a casual shrug.

“Who knows? It’s the pinnacle of swordsmanship. Yet even a faint mirror of it would be beyond our eyes to see. They call it … the [One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] strike, for ten thousand is the number of lives that the blade once drawn can claim in the time that a single leaf drifts down from a branch.”

Miranda shook her head in disbelief.

“[One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] … even the name is preposterous. If what we saw was anything close to that, then where … how could such a young girl have learned it?”

Silence answered on everyone’s behalf.

Nobody knew. But perhaps nobody was meant to.

After all, in only a short span of time, the girl had shown both prudence and strength beyond those many times her age. It was little wonder why she was a favourite amongst the receptionists, whose words carried as much weight as the guildmasters they represented.

There was no doubt that soon, even their praise wouldn’t be needed.

Her name was Juliette.

And as Timon Quinsley peeked around the corner with a smile of delight to watch his charge hopping away from the fallen bugbear, he knew with absolute certainty that she would strive earnestly to raise the Adventurer’s Guild to its greatest heights yet.