Merlin was comfortably seated in his chair – hands clasped behind his head and feet propped up on the desk. Today had ended shortly. It was a first in decades; no meetings, no imminent disasters, no nothing, just plain and simple tranquility. He wished it’d happen more often, but sadly, the heavy workload came with the title. He stood at the pinnacle, yet so utterly burdened.

Maybe it was time to retire; he was certainly wealthy enough. Perhaps after this cycle was over, he would find someone capable enough. The position of a simple Guildmaster lacked no contenders, and his more so. But those blinded by greed and ambition did not comprehend the responsibilities awaiting their succession. And, with no offspring of his own, he could only look inside the guild – and Goddess knew, all were inadequate.

Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind – letting it wander. It started as a whim, but the more he thought about it, the more enticing it became. A contented smile soon tugged his lips as he sank into dreams of a future to come.

A short distance away, the door to Merlin’s office was silently opened. With nimble steps, Cyra stepped inside. She froze, seeing her master’s expression, and – making sure not to disturb him – closed it back up. The elf stood transfixed before her master; a fight had broken inside her. She bit her lip – drowning any noise from exiting her throat. It was the first time she had seen his face graced with such a blissful smile, gracious and captivating – a true sight to behold.

And so, she stood, as still as she could, wordlessly burning the memory into her mind.

Feeling a strong sense of unease, Merlin was torn away from his daydreaming. He opened his eyes to be greeted with his ever dutiful assistant maniacally grinning at him while tightly clutching the sides of her dress. Despite the hundreds of years of experience he had on her, he couldn’t help the shiver running down his spine. His brows furrowed, deepening even further as she started to drool.

The idea of a successor flashed through his mind again. The young elf was certainly capable. Smart, efficient, and most importantly, loyal, but she was far from normal. He hadn’t been able to figure out her ailment yet. Regardless, she was too valuable to be replaced – her eccentrics greatly overshadowed by her diligence.

Sighing dejectedly, Merlin removed his feet. Straightened his robes, he sat up. Soon, he thought to himself. Another twenty-something years were nothing compared to the undisturbed eternity after. Dragging his eyes up, he asked, “Any news on our friend?”

Cyra awoke with a startle. She flinched, noticing her master’s changed demeanor. Ignoring the growing warmness in her face – she quickly wiped off the side of her mouth, bowed her head, and answered, “No, Guildmaster.” Raising her head, she forced her face impassive. “We’re still looking but have found nothing yet.”

The old magus said nothing, quietly tapping his finger on the desk. A full minute later, he stopped and finally broke the silence. “This cannot continue any longer; the next cycle is simply too close. Contact Askr. It’s about time we join forces.”

“Of course, Guildmaster.” Cyra inclined her head. “But if I may, wouldn’t that give the alchemists too much power in case they manage to get their hands on the recipes?”

“I would rather they have them rather than these items remain unsupervised – especially during the heroes’ stay. Though, our first priority shall be elimination.” The tapping started again. “Anything else?”

Nodding, Cyra continued, “There had been… an incident at one of the lesser farms: an unknown disease broke out and spread wildly. The bodies of those affected turned completely black following their deaths.” Her master’s re-growing frown made her throat tighten, but she pressed on. “The farm and its remaining inhabitants, including the working staff, were terminated. The total toll being: 1,200 goblins, 200 slaves, 100 guards, and 4 Master Mages.”

Of course, a plague had to emerge months away from the summoning. And, of course, it had to be the green pests. Merlin’s jaw clenched. “Issue thorough inspections for all of the lower farms. Also, I want any and all deaths reported; this applies to all farm ranking.” He sighed and leaned back – his shoulders sagging. “There is still time left; find a suitable spot and rebuild. I will not have this cycle hindered.”

Cyra’s heart wrenched at her master’s disappointment. Steeling herself, she adopted a confident smile; she had not only brought misfortune. “There is some good news, Guildmaster.” She paused, basking in her master’s gaze. “The human mage, Mage Sundri spoke of, has been located.” Feeling his whole attention on her, her smile widened, and her voice grew excited. “He had recently purchased a piece of land near the Lamassu and is currently residing there.”

Guildmaster Merlin leaned forward, intently listening to each word spoken. He rested his elbows on the hardwood – his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Walk me slowly through this, Cyra. When was he first found?”

“Approximately seven months ago. He was amongst a group of elven captives. They were hunting in the beastkin’s territory without a permit. Our people were eventually released – however, the human, penniless, was not.” With a slight grimace, she added, “Unfortunately, Sabortooths lead the capture, and they are quite stubborn. I couldn’t find anything prior.”

Merlin folded his hands, resting his chin on top. “I don’t care for politics right now, Cyra. Be more persuasive.” He paused. “What else?”

“He stayed with the slavers for almost a month. An ordinary seal was imprinted on him at the time. He made no attempts at escape and complied with their commands accordingly.”

Merlin hummed, rubbing his smooth chin. “That would confirm how small his manapool is.”

The young elf nodded. “He was later bought by Councilwoman Xavienna’s daughter. The two of them registered as adventurers and quickly soared through the ranks.” She waited, shifting her weight to one leg. And seeing as no words came, she carried on, “A month or so after, he purchased land near the city of Candra using points, and traded in some more for coin; both amounting to a handful of platinum.”

“That’s…” Merlin paused, “a lot of money to make in a few weeks.” He waved for Cyra to continue.

She nodded. “A few days later, he went back to the same trader who once sold him before and bought four laborer slaves and a wyvern. They are all residing with him on his land.”

“Interesting…” Merlin mumbled. Noticing Cyra’s head tilt, he smiled in amusement. “Oh, it’s not about the beast. The human is practical. There’s a chance to remedy what the fool had soiled without having to offer his head.” He signaled for her again.

Cyra almost lost herself in her master’s smile again, but she caught herself in time. Coughing lightly into her hand, she spoke, “Their last recorded quest was a C-ranked goblin subjugation. The human was, supposedly, injured at the time; however, there are no details on the quest itself. Any further records are kept by Candra’s Guildmaster, Argus.”

Taking a deep breath, Merlin exhaled through his nose. Dealing with the barbaric two-legged talking beasts was difficult, and the Adventurers’ arrogant horned varmint was no different. The half-bred animals had, somehow, become more insufferable since The Great War. Every attempt to recruit the Adventurers' head ended in failure. Lesser Guildmasters could be easily bought; however, none mattered other than the head. And oddly enough, none of those they enlisted ever reached the position, no matter how much they invested. It was a shame; things could have been much easier.

Cyra waited patiently for her master. If eradicating the damned freaks would alleviate his frown, she would gladly do it – he only had to order it so. A few silent minutes went by until, finally, a hand was raised. Clearing her throat, she did not dawdle, “The human’s master was, reportedly, quite worried about him. She went as far as threatening the healers. Coincidently, days after the human’s deep sleep, her sister arrived. And all three – accompanied by another adventurer – traveled back to the councilwoman’s territory, Gulen. They sought the help of Mage Sundri, and the rest of the events are as he recounted. However, the human’s master was indeed unaware of the usage of Klepto – resulting in a fallout with her family.”

Merlin remained quiet, digesting all of the information. “What did you find about the third adventurer?”

“She’s a C-ranked Rabbitkin named Sanne.” Cyra paused, searching her memory. “There is little about her. No background, only that she had registered three or four months before them.”

“Find out everything.” Merlin leaned back. “I want every little detail about him, everyone he spoke to, even those he merely glanced at.”

“Yes, Guildmaster,” Cyra replied with a bow. Her master was lost in thought again. She folded her hands behind her back and shifted onto her other leg – waiting.

“Describe him for me.” Merlin suddenly asked.

“Pale skin, dark hair, and slightly taller than most humans,” She recited. Her master kept eyeing her – an unspoken question in his gaze. It took her a short while to understand his intentions. “He is not young.”

“It’s still a possibility,” He stated. Humans' appearances were tricky. “Askr and the crafters have been running their experiments for decades. A lonesome human appearing deep within the beastkins territory. A mere human is a Grandmaster, despite both his pitiful age and manapool?” He paused. “We have to ascertain his looks ourselves. We’re looking for the slightest of resemblance.” Merlin licked his lip, grinning. “Send Arthur. He has seen enough heroes to recognize one.”

“Yes, Guildmaster,” Cyra solemnly replied. The gravity of the situation was not lost on her.

“He’s only to observe, and under no circumstances should he engage; our position is unfavorable enough. This is but a gamble.” Eyes narrowing, Merlin lagged for a moment before adding, “Anything else?”

“There is one last thing, Guildmaster. The human, during a recent scuffle with some ruffians, showed prospects of attunement.” 

“So, he’s really a Grandmaster,” Merlin spoke slowly. Not much had been able to surprise him, but this was far too peculiar. “We will proceed as I said. Arthur is to observe and report, nothing more.”

Cyra deeply bowed one last time before turning around and leaving. Time was of the essence. The prospects of both cases were grave. A rogue Grandmaster could not be allowed to remain as such. And the slim possibility of an unsummoned hero had to be instantly addressed. She’d proceed with utmost caution as the repercussions of such findings were… unimaginable. If, however, the hypothesis proved to be correct, then several individuals – some influential – had to be neutralized. And the hero acquired.