"Do you have any kids?" I ask.
"No." Her expression immediately turns suspicious.
"Well, if you ever do, I think you'd be a great mother," I say with a grin. A conflicted smile sweeps over her face.
"I've got a whole guild full of children to take care of, and most of them are you?"
"What did I do?" My voice is incredulous as I posit my question.
"Oh, I don't know. You only show up beaten half to death every week."
"I can't be the only one."
"Not only that, I have to listen to the guild master complain about you all the time." Shelly leans towards me with her hands on her hips.
"Um, thanks for covering for me?"
"You're welcome. Please just try to take better care of yourself from now on." Shelly pleads. At this point, I'm pretty confused.
[If I'm such a burden, why does she care about me? Why does she go so far out of her way for me? I don't feel like I've ever even done anything for her. Better yet, why does anyone like me? Aren't I just a bother? Don't I just cause problems for everyone? Everyone was living such a simple life before I came around, but now a war has broken out, and I'm at least partially to blame.]
At this moment, I begin to feel very small. All I want to do is crawl in a hole and die. The sudden perspective shift shakes me to my core.
"Okay, I'll do better," I respond quietly.
"That's what I want to hear." Shelly puts a hand on my head and ruffles my hair. "I know you've got a lot on your shoulders, but there are people willing to help. Don't be afraid to ask."
Shelly unknowingly twists the knife currently driven into my heart. I nod, and she beams a bright smile right into my face. I try to look away, but she's too close to avoid.
"Now, why don't we get you to the guild hall? I believe they're waiting for you," she suggests. I gulp back tears and take a deep breath.
[I have a mission to complete, and people are relying on me; I have to do what I can right now.]
After collecting myself, I puff up my chest and walk out into the main hall. I must not have noticed on arrival, but the place is packed. A small army of men, all holding the Duke's banner, are bunched up to one side while a crowd of adventurers squirms about on the other. I quickly notice Travis waving at me, so I walk up to him.
"Hey." I throw him a casual greeting.
"Where've you been? We've all been waiting on you," he complains while maintaining a smile.
"Sorry, I had no idea."
"That's alright. I'm just glad you're doing better. I heard you had it pretty rough yesterday."
"You could say that."
"Some of the staff mentioned that you came back from the woods in really bad shape. Did something happen out there?"
"Not really. We were just checking out that dungeon. I think our little adventure ended up lasting longer than expected."
"Wow, you went all the way through the woods to get there? I think that's plenty for a party of iron class adventurers." Travis teases. I know he's well aware of our familiarity with the surrounding area.
"Have you ever conquered a dungeon?" I ask the teacher to change the topic.
"Hmm…" unexpectedly, he falls into thought. "I witnessed it happen once, but I don't think I can claim to be involved. This all happened back when I was a porter before I became an adventurer."
"What was it like?"
"Scary," he responds flatly. "The dungeon master of that particular dungeon was a high-ranking Goblin Shaman. It launched such a ferocious combination of spells that more than half of the expedition was wiped out before they could even get close."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's nothing to feel bad about. Looking back on it, they were a bunch of greedy youngsters just trying to make a name for themselves. If they'd waited a few years or brought more experienced adventurers along with them, then they wouldn't have suffered so many casualties."
"It's still sad." Paying a great price for a minor mistake is the very essence of tragedy. To say that it's not is far too harsh, but maybe that's the common sense of this world. If the mistake was greater than what I'm evaluating it to be, then it's just desserts. I decide to stop thinking about it and focus on the task at hand.
"Since you were waiting for me, is the expedition ready to depart."
"Should be, let's ask." Travis turns to a man wearing a particularly flashy set of armor. The white metal shines brightly even in the dimly lit guild hall. "Hey, baldy, are we ready to go?"
The man wearing the flashy armor, who's very clearly not bald, whips his head around. His face is turning red, and a vein is pulsating on his forehead.
"For the last time, I'm not bald! And my name is Pierre!"
"More like pew, am I right? This guy stinks." Travis waves his hand in front of his face as he mocks the soldier. Pierre's face grows redder until he looks like an overripe tomato. I'm on the edge of tears as I hold back my laughter. I'm worried his head may explode if he gets any angrier.
"If you mock me one more time, I'll–"
"Shut up, stinky," Jezabel says as she walks up with another man from the Duke's army. He may even be the Duke himself, for all I know. The man has long blond hair that spills onto his softly glowing armor. The glow reminds me of the set at Marshall's shop, so I assume it's also made out of Mythril.
"I-I…" Before Pierre erupts, the other man walks up to him.
"Pierre, stand down."
"But–"
Smack!
The sound rings out through the hall, causing the low hum to fall deftly silent.
"Disobey my orders again, and I'll have your head on a spike!" All the blood drains from Pierre's face until it's ghostly white.
"Yes, sir, Earl…."
"Now, is he here?" The Earl points his question at Jezabel.
"Yes, that's him right there." A rush of panic fills my stomach as the angry Noble turns to face me.
"Are you joking? He's just a child."
"Maybe so, but he's the best we've got."
"I'm not here to play Games!" The Earl shouts the last word of the sentence. I notice his back-foot plant out of the corner of my eye. This gives me the chance to react as soon as his arm pulls back. I bend my knees and dodge to the right, narrowly avoiding his fist. It seems the Earl was not expecting to miss as his posture is broken. Before he can recover, I wordlessly activate Flash Step. The Earl tries to catch himself with his front foot, but my powered-up kick easily blocks it. Unable to maintain his balance, the Nobleman falls face-first onto the floor. Several gasps escape the mouths of the nearby soldiers. I look up at Jezabel, who's glaring daggers at me.
[Did I go too far? Should I have let him hit me?]
While these thoughts whirl around my head, my assailant hops up to his feet. He quickly brushes himself off and adjusts his disheveled apparel. The tension grows with each passing second.