At the crack of dawn, I return to the Gentlemen’s Guild with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. My meandering train of thought brings me back to Deflon; For someone so large, the man’s a big ol’ softy, just a gruff, huggable teddy bear. He basically wept his way through his whole life story; the turmoil, the love, the loss… The usual stories old people tell to those whom they think need some perspective.

“I should introduce him to Dragkenoss one day. They can drone on and on to each other while I escape.”

I sigh as I walk through the gates of the guild, then I find…

“What the fuck!? You guys had a barbecue while I was gone?”

The garden is strewn with empty bottles of alcohol and left-overs of food. A still smoking grill bears mute testament to the prior evening’s bachinal. Here were kabobs, there were ribs, I find a half-eaten cheeseburger, and, what the hell? Are those paper plates?

To really drive home that I missed the fun, many, many partygoers are littered across the garden. Drunk, unconscious bodies are everywhere, even draped over bushes and flowerbeds almost comically. In the midst of the bodies is a table where several [Gentleman] are still playing cards. Getting drunk and passing out probably doesn’t strike those men as gentlemanly.

I walk up to them. “Did you guys even sleep?” I ask.

I feel the overwhelming urge to tip my hat, so I do. They tip their hats in reply.

The old man lays down a card. “We’ll rest later. For now, we will hold vigil until our guests,” the speaker frowns and looks towards the bodies, “awaken from their slumber.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. So why was there a party here… and why was I not invited?”

The old man glares at another [Gentleman] at the table. “I sent Sars to invite the friends of the two young ladies Miss Jessica brought to us. Unfortunately, it seems that those two keep interesting company.”

I can’t help but chuckle, to the old man’s annoyance, but the other [Gentlemen] smile. Clearly, they aren’t as jaded as the [Guildmaster].

“Brother Bone, how was your walk?” one of [Gentlemen] asks.

I smile and point behind me at the plume of smoke still hovering in the morning air above where the Assassins’ Guild used to be.

“It was an eventful night, but fruitful. I made sure those ruffians won’t bother me or mine for some time.”

The [Gentlemen] all tip their hats in appreciation.

“We predicted as much when those watching our guild crept back into the shadows.”

I scratch the side of my neck. “There is a delicate matter with which I may need some assistance. Some of my new… compadres if you will, may be blamed for the destruction I wrought. Would it be too much trouble for the [Gentlemen] to take the credit?”

The [Gentlemen] all give me confused looks. After a moment, the old man speaks. “You are a member of our guild. You stand with the guild, and the guild stands with you. As such, the responsibility lies with all of us. Since you were indeed the one who made that awful din last night, I will make sure to inform the other parties that we condone and support your actions.”

Well, shit. That was actually pretty easy.

“That would be excellent. Unfortunately, I must bid you all a good morning and a goodbye. I have a contract with the Mercenary Guild for which my transportation will leave in a few hours. If all goes well, I should return within two weeks.”

Hannibal smiles and doffs his hat. “Then go. We will talk more when you return.”

I firmly grab the brim of my hat before flourishing it into a bow. This time, I make sure to spread my cloak back.

The old man’s lips quirk upwards as I turn away from the gents and survey the party once more. My eyes scan the somnolent members, looking to see if Jessica was part of that part of the party.

“No way…”

My eyes land on two unconscious men sprawled at a table.

 

 

So, the person who governs the city is a [Hero], and an Aussie at that. But the other…

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe it. Really? This world? With me?”

I chuckle and shake my head with a broad smile plastered on my face. I look at his sleeping form while peeking at his screen.

 

“Heh, and it looks like you aren’t doing bad either. Look at that charisma!”

So, my pal’s defining trait is charisma. I guess that makes sense, Franky was always a popular guy. He was the sort of person who, whenever he laughed, you couldn’t help but laugh with him. When he spoke, people listened. He is just naturally good at leaving a positive mark, so the bloated charisma stat makes sense.

But goddamn if that isn’t some awful endurance.

I reach forward and nudge my good friend, but he doesn’t react. I roll my eyes and raise my leg before unceremoniously kicking him off the table.

To my surprise, he drops on the floor like a corpse without deigning to awaken.

Confused, I grab one of the drinks off the table. I take a taste.

“Is this fucking absinthe? What the hell?.”

My friend doesn’t react to my words. He lays face down, ass to the sky with his mouth slightly open. I swear I can almost see the grass withering from his breath.

Fuck. He blacked out, probably recently too.

Tisking in annoyance, I lean down to his comatose body and position him so he is laying on his back. Then, with a bit of mana, my shadow spreads and turns violet, allowing me to grab something from my sub-dimension.

“Now then,” I smile malevolently. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

 

_______________________________________________________

 

A [Coachman]’s job is, by and large, considered to be a simple one. Ferris would agree, under the condition you travel entirely within a city. Now, if you are a [Coachman] who transports people outside the safety of the city, then you should know that the job can be unpredictable or outright dangerous.

[Bandits], beasts, weather, and of course the dreaded potholes can easily destroy a [Coachman]’s coach if they are unprepared.

Which is why Ferris can’t help but smile assuredly when he stops his thick paneled , enchanted, and armored stagecoach in front of the Mercenary Guild. The four armored warhorses snort as he directs them to a stop.

In front of the guild are six people, all of whom are now staring at him and his coach. They are, to Ferris’s curiosity, rather young. Three boys and three girls, half of them seemingly still within their teenage years. These children, Ferris guesses, are barely at the rank of silver as a team.

“Are you six the silver rank team called Flame Spitters?” he asks just in case, though they likely are. One of the teams he is picking up has six members, and since there are six people milling outside of the guild, it most likely is them.

The youngest of the group bounces forward. “That’s us! The great and mighty Fire Spiters!” the young man roars.

“Flame Spitters, you doofus,” another member of the team corrects while shaking her head. “Anyways, that would be us. I am Shina, the leader of the team.”

She waves her hand to her team and starts pointing. “The big guy is Thresh, those two are Dorris and Elly. The silently brooding guy in the fancy armor is Brando and,” she points at the youngest of the group, but pauses as the kid jumps forward, raises his hands, and releases a stream of fire directly into the air.

“I’m Aiden of the great clan Flammenwerfer, the future strongest [Pyromancer] in the whole world!” he yells, attracting the attention of passersby.

Thankfully, since they are located right next to the Mercenary Guild, nobody gives the outgoing and impetuous teenager much thought.

Shina steps forward and grabs the young man by the ear.

“Ow, Shina, ow, ow, okay.”

She ignores the kid’s protests. “Sir [Coachman]-”

“Call me Ferris, please,” Ferris says.

“Sir Ferris, please ignore my cousin’s lack of tact. He can be a bit idiotic at times. I’ll make sure that he keeps his magic under control.”

Ferris nods. Fire and fire mages can be dangerous, but he doubts the kid has the levels to bypass his coach’s enchantments and construction.

“Thank you, Miss Shina.” He looks once more at the group and the surrounding area. ”Are you the only team? I was informed that the team Merry Marrows will be joining us. Have you seen them?”

“We don’t need another team! I can handaaaaa- my ear, my ear.”

Shina raises the kid’s ear with one hand while ignoring his whimpers.

“Unfortunately, we didn’t check to see if anyone else had registered for the contract.”

Ferris sighs. He was hoping that both teams would be ready early so that he can have a nice head start on the day, but it seems he has to wait.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I’ll have to wait until midday before we can leave. In the meantime, please feel free to make yourselves comfortable.”

“But weahhhhh. Okay, okay. I’m going.” Aiden yelps as Shina practically drags the kid into the coach.

As they all enter, Ferris leans back into his seat. He glances at the sky. Midday will be in about two hours. If the other team doesn’t show, he’ll just leave without them.

So he waits. An hour passes by and when the second is about to, and he’s reaching for the reins, he sees a masked duo sprinting towards him.

Normally, he would ignore them, but since they are a group of two and he can sense the two are powerful, Ferris lets the reins go and waits for them to arrive.

Once they are close enough, he speaks. “Merry Marrows, I presume?”

“Chaotic Bo- ughhh! Fuck!”

The man grabs his stomach after getting elbowed by the woman.

“That’s us,” she says quickly and flashes her card.

Ferris raises an eyebrow. She’s a Platinum rank, which means she is very powerful. Curious that they would take such a low paying contract.

“You didn’t have to aim for the kidney! Ughh, I feel nauseous now.”

“I didn’t. That was your liver.”

“But Merry Marrows is boring.”

Ferris can’t help but chuckle. For some reason, these two remind him of that Shina-Aiden pair currently in his coach.

“Well, you both are barely on time. I was just about to leave.”

“Not my fault!” The man raises his hand and points at his companion. “She just had to take a shower before we left.”

“I was covered in blood and dirt! And what are you complaining about, you’re the one who got us lost and we had to pay another kid to take us here again.”

“Apologies, to the both of you, but we do have a schedule to keep. If you could argue inside the coach, I would very much appreciate that.”

“Jess, Ferris is right,” the masked man chides her while walking up to the stagecoach door. “You can’t be complaining in public, especially so loudly. It’s unladylike and disrespectful to everyone listening.”

The man quickly opens the door and jumps in.

“That was you!” she yells while following him inside.

Ferris watches them enter, then frowns as he checks a necklace around his neck. It’s an enchanted item, meant to prevent people from checking his Status.

But… ”How did he know my name?”

 

________________________________________________________________

Franky wakes up and regrets it. The hammer pounding inside his head makes him want to swear off drinking forever. He groans aloud, winces at the noise, and slowly opens his eyes. The sun’s cheerful rays shine directly in his face, worsening his suffering further.

“Ughhh,” he groans while trying to sit up.

He blinks several times and frowns. He’s on the ground. He was pretty sure he had been talking at the table… to the table...

Or did he pass out? Damnit, he can’t remember. Everything is a bit of a blur, especially the drinking. Why the hell did he let himself get pressured into drinking that much?

With a deep and shaky breath, he attempts to stand, but his legs are still wobbly. He’s forced to use the nearby table to prop himself up.

The [Hero]’s rough attempts at getting up shake the table and wake his conversation partner. The Australian yawns loudly and stretches his arms up with a smile. Then, without a second thought, he grabs a half-finished bottle of alcohol and downs the rest of it.

“How can you even function?” Franky asks aloud.

Aodean chuckles. “Ah, just few skills I’ve managed to-” Aodean goes silent as he looks at the exhausted and tired face of Franky.

“What?” Franky asks.

Aodean blinks. He snickers, giggles, then chuckles, before full on belly laughing. The laughter is loud and obnoxious, so much so that it rouses the other people nearby.

“What’s wrong? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, you-” Aodean’s attempt to explain is cut off by his own laughter. “Your, your face is-” He laughs again.

Confused, Franky grabs a napkin, uncrumples it, and casts a [Light] spell. Slowly, a distorted image of his face resolves on the misused tissue.His mouth drops open. Covering half the distorted image of his face is an equally distorted, but extraordinarily detailed drawing of a penis.

 

_____________________________________________________________

Spehon sighs, staring at the crater in the center of Camelot. A crater which housed the now destroyed Assassins Guild. Oh, he knew where the guild was located, he had learned how they operated. Destroying the guild? Out of the question. Bringing the might of Camelot down on them might have been a win, but they would not have been able to handle the fallout. The [Assassins] would target the leadership responsible for allowing the attack to take place.

The other problem is that when, not if, the guild returns, their new location will be better hidden and hardened. Spehon prefers to know the general comings and goings of the [Assassins]. Now, he’ll have to find them again from scratch.

Overlooking the detritus, he watches tens of [Guards] climbing down into the crater and searching for anyone and anything that may have survived the blast. Not that he expects there to be anyone. If they lived, then they are gone. He could not imagine anyone willingly choosing to remain. [Assassins] have a tendency to commit suicide if they are ever about to be captured.

Spehon rubs the stubble on his chin, thinking about the relationship between the death of Spider and the destruction of the guild.

Few groups could coordinate a single attack so well. Preparation of an explosive of this magnitude would require an [Alchemist], [Bomber], or some other high-level specialist. To smuggle in such a bomb would further require an extremely high level [Rogue] or similar stealth-based class. It's clear to Spehon that either this was a coordinated, well-planned assault, done by several people over level two hundred, or this was the work of a single attacker over level three hundred or a named being. Unfortunately, none of the named persons currently residing within the city would be able to strike in such a way.

Which means the perpetrators had recently entered the city. But nobody comes to mind… unless…

“Quasi,” he whispers the name. Aodean had requested he find someone named Quasi Elduo. A male of six foot in height, probably holding the [Hero] class. Apparently, this Quasi was the source of the music that covered all of Camelot, but other than him being present on the island, Spehon could not pinpoint his exact location.

With only a name and a vague description, finding a singular individual who matches would be difficult, even more so if they did not want to be found. Still, despite the lack of information, he premonishes in his bones it may have been this Quasi fellow, who the [Hero] Franky swears is overwhelmingly powerful.

The [Spymaster] pauses as he senses someone nearby, hidden on top of a building overlooking the crater.

He grunts and turns around while casting a complicated illusion spell.

His invisible body steps out of an illusionary one he leaves in his place. He walks away from the simulacrum until he reaches the building where he senses someone. He then walks to the back of the building where prying eyes will not find him.

Spehon looks to the blank wall. “Ear Momochi, you may speak.”

The wall seems to ripple as the [Ninja] deactivates his camouflage.

“Voice Spehon, I come bearing a message from Voice Naewind.” Momochi kneels and presents a scroll to one of the most powerful people in all of Camelot.