“Do you keep up with the events of the Realm, Guild Master?” Count Drisford casually begins our conversation as he dabs his lips with a napkin, wiping off a few leftover flecks with elegance.
I can’t be sure where he’s going with this, but I don’t see any benefit in lying. “I’m afraid I don’t. Dewhurst doesn’t have a very stable source of news, apart from travelers.”
Then, like a hawk, he pounces and retorts with, “I take it you don’t get very many traveling adventurers in your Guild, then? Otherwise, surely you would be more aware of the world around you.”
Damn, Count Drisford laid that conversational trap completely under my nose. Best to just embrace the accusation. “Yes. Most travelers skip Dewhurst altogether when possible these days. There was a continual slump where adventurers abandoned the Guild, which led to several years where I was mostly unable to work due to my ntal health. I fell into a depression, but now everything is on the up and up. These days, several adventurers are working under
once again.”
Without so much as a change of expression, he says, “I’m aware of your ntal lapse. I run the financials of this province. For five years, the mayor of Dewhurst has submitted few standard quest reimbursent forms, which we then process and send en masse to the Association.”
“...I’m aware of how the system works.”
“No doubt. Still, you really should find a way to keep up with the world if you truly wish to beco a skilled Guild Master. There is much to learn of the Realm these days.”
“Any recent news you could bless
with, Count Drisford? We may as well make conversation.”
“There’s a lot of buzz in the Royal capital these days. No doubt you’ve heard of the missing Crown Princess, Samantha Lundrea?”
“Yes, word of that unfortunate situation has reached my ears...” Despite how hard it is, I keep myself from reacting to this. I don’t think Opalina would have told him that Sam is staying with , but this could be another trap if she did. “Goddesses willing she’ll be found unhard. No doubt there are many foul n out there who would do unspeakable, perverse things to a Princess if they got their hands on her.”
“I’ve t her when she was younger. She’ll be alright, that one. The child was a firebrand, from what I rember. Really, the absolute spitting image of her father in his younger days.” I’m not sure how to process that last bit, and I imagine Sam would get mad at such an assertion. “I’m surprised they haven’t checked your Guild yet, actually.”
I almost spit my latest sip of beer. “...Why is that?”
“I see you don’t know your recent history.” His glaring becos more severe as if he takes this as a slight. “When King Theostus turned eighteen, the first thing he did was escape downriver to Perlshaw and head west to Dewhurst to beco an adventurer to escape the oppressive rule of his father, King Lucadeus.”
This new knowledge causes my brain to outright stop processing for an embarrassingly long ti. As I dwell on Sam literally repeating her father’s footsteps unintentionally, Count Drisford continues to grow unimpressed. “Guild Master?”
“My apologies, I was just surprised to hear that the King himself was an adventurer in my own Guild and that my grandfather never told .”
“I suppose that would be rather shocking...” Whether Count Drisford believes my claim or not, he moves on, saying, “Well, on top of the business with the Princess, it was reported that the sacred Great Blade of Rhoivandis Lundrea has disappeared from the palace treasury. So people believed the Princess stole it when she left, but the ti doesn’t match up.”
Ah. Of course. Well, even if she didn’t steal it when she left, Sam has it now... I was wondering what the deal with that new of hers sword was. Gods, Luxy, this better not have made anything more complicated for us. Speaking of, Count Drisford seems intent on making this conversation as tricky for
as possible.
I try to defuse the situation with a light jest, saying, “Is that so? Well, let’s hope that whoever took it gets so use out of it. I’m sure the sword would much prefer that as opposed to gathering dust in a vault sowhere.”
“Hm. Humor.” He almost imperceptibly raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been told I don’t have a knack for such things. You’ll forgive
for my general lack of amusent. I’m afraid it’s chronic.”
“Of course.” Note to self. Avoid attempts at levity.
Count Drisford gives a tired sigh as he thinks more on the topic at hand. “I swear... Arrark has its own problems, but at least it’s not Rhoivan. There’s scarcely a single day that goes by without so new scandal coming out of Imperalis.”
“Are you saying there are there’s still sothing more beyond the Princess and the sword?”
“If you can believe it, yes. The founder of the Galloise Company just disinherited his young heiress a bit over a week ago.”
“Really? That must have been dreadful for the poor girl.” Thank the Goddesses... finally, a conversational topic that I’m not sohow secretly involved with.
“Indeed, no one even knows why he cast out his daughter, but it caused quite an upheaval. This last week has seen the founder avoiding all serious questions and insisting his family drama will not impact his business... ah, you do know what the Galloise Company is, yes?”
“Certainly. My Guild has a good deal of their arcane tech installed. Lighting, running water, machines for laundry, so kitchen appliances, and several toilets... it was one of the last major investnts my grandfather made before he passed.”
He nods his head, seemingly pleased that I know just a bit of the world outside my Guild. “A wise investnt of him. Arcane tech is clearly the future. Despite that, Castle Mourneheart has yet to accrue much of its own, as you can plainly see.” Count Drisford gestures toward the chandelier above us, which still has actual candles instead of magical lighting.
“I think the lighting gives this place a very unique aesthetic charm. Personally, I rather enjoy the castle compared to the rest of the city. I found the marble and the overall shine of the city much too harsh on my eyes.”
Another tiny wriggle of a smile. “Is that so? Well, it matters not... on a different note, I’ve heard from Miss Hart that you’re a true, red-blooded Karnallian male, Guild Master.”
Now there’s a sentence I didn’t expect to co out of the serious Count’s mouth. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. In what way?”
“I hear that you’ve established yourself a harem, much like those of us in the nobility. I have three wives and a mistress, myself.” No doubt they fell in love with Count Drisford’s approachable, warm persona.
“Ah, well, what can I say other than that I’m a man of desires, Count Drisford?”
“You think that makes you special? Show
a man who isn’t motivated by his desires, and I’ll gladly shake his hand.” This gets a small smile out of , but then, the man goes on to pronounce, “I must admit, I don’t understand how you’ve managed to win Miss Hart’s favor. Forgive
if that sounds rude. It’s only that I’ve known her for quite so ti and have never seen the woman take an interest in soone of the opposite sex- much to my widower Duke’s ever-constant dismay.”
“I’m very fortunate, even if I’m unsure why I’m deserving of her love myself. How long exactly do you two go back?” I jump at the thought of learning more about Opalina from an outside source. I’ve never t soone who goes way back with her, so it’s a tantalizing idea. The fact that she’s not present only makes it all the more appealing.
Count Drisford shuts it down fast, though. “It’s not my place to say. Goddesses know how that woman is about her secrets.”
“Indeed, I’ll drink to that.” I give the Count a salute with my tankard of beer, and to my surprise, he returns the toast.
“To won and their secrets,” He insists, raising his glass of whisky to his thin lips and downing it in ti with my own sip. After basking in the warmth of his stiff drink, he enounces, “At any rate, congratulations are in order, Guild Master. I find your conversational skills passable, and I’ve determined a good deal of your character through our discussion. There’s no need to continue with this pointless chatter. I know now you are young, ambitious to a fault, sowhat wise yet naive about the Realm as a whole. While my assessnt is much more cynical than Miss Hart’s, I don’t disagree that there is potential in you- however slim- to develop further and that you might one day beco a larger player in the grander sche of things.”
“Thank you for your honest assessnt. I’m going to take it that’s about the highest complint one can earn from you?”
“More or less.” The grim Count of Grunlun agrees.
“Glad to hear it. Now that that’s out of the way, when will you allow
to et with Duke Gloomcrest?” I half-jokingly throw the idea out there to assert that I know exactly what I want.
“Heh,” He laughs hoarsely under his breath without changing his expression. “I only said that I was done sizing up your character. I didn’t say I approved of you eting the Duke just yet, Guild Master. There’s more to this screening than a simple assessnt.”
“Then, by all ans, elaborate.”
“The reason you were summoned is that Duke Osbourne Gloomcrest has a series of quests he would like to potentially issue your Guild. We’d been deliberating on which of the Guilds in Arrark to send these out to for a while now. Then, Miss Hart ca along right in ti to insist it be yours. Give
a damn good reason why it should, and it will be so.”
This much information isn’t new to , as I already inferred this eting involved registering quests. Opalina kept saying that if I ca to Dawnstead, I’d potentially earn the Guild a lot of money, and I wasn’t expecting the Duke to just hand it over as an investnt.
I need more information, though, so I press Count Drisford. “I like what I’m hearing, but may I ask what the quests would entail or their level of difficulty and the rewards at stake?”
“You may not. If you truly want these quests, then you simply need to trust that the Duke would not be miserly with his treasury.”
“So, in other words, all that I need to do is sell my Guild to you, blindly and without knowing the risk of danger?”
“In simple terms, yes. If your conviction isn’t strong enough that you can’t accept the quests without reservations, then we don’t want you. We’ll negotiate with the Dawnstead, Vurgestrom, Roselake, or Crasre Guilds instead.”
Well, at least he didn’t say Perlshaw, but despite its closeness, Perlshaw is in Rhoivan. Seems they want to keep this problem solely contained to Arrark and its Guilds rather than relying on outside help. I ponder the many different ways I could go about convincing this old, stubborn gargoyle before deciding I need a little sothing to inspire
further. “Bertrand,” I raise my long emptied tankard, “Another.”
“Absolutely, Sir. Anything to be of use!” Bertrand interrupts his long, silent stint to wrest the tankard from my hands, a dollop of mashed potatoes falling limply to the floor as he runs off to fuel my skill at wordcraft.
Reviews
All reviews (0)