The streets of Rovia were alive with the frenzy of the search, the Guild's relentless pursuit spreading through the city like wildfire. The echo of booted feet on cobblestones and the sharp bark of orders filled the air, as every nook and cranny of Rovia was scoured for any sign of Jack.
Jack's room, a small and squalid space tucked away in the poorer quarters of the city, was turned upside down. The bed, a simple frame with a thin, tattered mattress, lay bare. A single wooden table, now splintered and overturned, stood in the corner, surrounded by a scattering of torn clothes. The walls, stained with grime and neglect, seemed to close in on the space, making it even more claustrophobic.
As the Guild members rifled through the scant belongings, the neighbors gathered, their curiosity piqued. Whispers floated on the air like the rustling of leaves.
"He was always so isolated," one elderly woman murmured, her voice tinged with both pity and suspicion. "Never spoke to any of us. Once, we invited him to a birthday party, but he didn't even bother to show up."
"Strange boy," another added, nodding sagely. "Always kept to himself. We'd see him coming and going at odd hours, but he never stayed to chat."
"Did you ever see anyone visit him?" a Guild member pressed.
The neighbors exchanged glances, shrugging collectively. "Not that we recall," one of them finally said. "He was a loner."
Amid the vague details, one piece of information stood out. An old man with a cane, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. "He used to learn martial arts from Master Kenji. If anyone knows him, it would be Kenji."
Leo and Rumi, hearing this, wasted no time. They made their way to the dojo of Master Kenji, an esteemed martial artist known for his strict discipline and honor. The dojo, an oasis of calm amidst the chaos, was nestled in a quiet part of the city, surrounded by a bamboo grove.
Master Kenji greeted them with a bow, his face a mask of serene composure. "What brings the Guild to my humble dojo?" he asked, his voice like a calm river.
"We seek information about one of your students, Jack," Leo began, his tone respectful but firm. "He's a suspect in a serious matter, and we need to find him."
Master Kenji's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Jack? A suspect? I find that hard to believe. He was always diligent in his training, though he kept much to himself."
Rumi stepped forward. "We need to know if he mentioned anything unusual to you recently. Any change in behavior, or places he might go to hide?"
Kenji stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Jack was reserved, yes, but he was also disciplined. He never missed a session and always pushed himself. He mentioned his mother often, spoke of her with great respect and affection. But as for a place to hide... I'm afraid I cannot help you."
Leo frowned. "Did he ever talk about his problems? Anything that might suggest he was in trouble?"
Kenji shook his head. "Jack was a young man of few words. He bore his burdens silently. I truly believe he could not have done anything malicious."
Despite the thorough questioning, Master Kenji had little to offer. The Guild's search led to more dead ends, with no sign of Jack.
--
Meanwhile, in the dimly lit corner of a bustling tavern, James sat with a glass of wine in hand. The tavern was filled with the chatter and laughter of its patrons, oblivious to the city's unrest. James watched with a detached amusement as low-level Guild members scurried about, following his orders. He took a leisurely sip of his wine, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.
The tavern, nestled at the edge of the bustling town of Rovia, exuded an air of timeless charm. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, their surfaces darkened by the soot of countless fires that had burned in the hearths below. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine permeated the room, mingling with the laughter and chatter of patrons. Flickering lanterns cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating faces that told stories of adventure, camaraderie, and hardship.
James, a Rank B member of the renowned Guild, sat alone at a corner table. His cloak, tattered and stained from countless battles, hung loosely around his broad shoulders. He swirled the ruby-red wine in his goblet, watching the liquid slosh against the sides before taking a contemplative sip. The wine, rich and heady, did little to lift his spirits or clear his muddled thoughts.
He had been assigned a mission of critical importance, one that had eluded the Rank C members of the guild. They had tried and failed, leaving the task to fall into his lap. As a Rank B, he had lower-level members under his command, eager and willing to prove their worth. But as he gazed into the depths of his goblet, James questioned the very nature of his role.
"Why should I give my 100% for someone else's murder?" he mused, his voice barely a whisper amidst the din of the tavern. The question had gnawed at him since the mission was handed down. He was no stranger to danger, having faced down beasts and bandits with equal ferocity. Yet, this felt different. It felt beneath him.
His eyes scanned the room, observing the varied expressions of those around him. There were fellow guild members, young and old, sharing tales of their latest exploits. There were townsfolk, seeking solace and escape from their daily toils. And there were those like him, lost in their own thoughts, wrestling with unseen demons.
The task was simple: find and eliminate the culprit behind a series of murders plaguing Evershire. The Rank C members had gathered some intelligence but failed to make significant progress. Now, the responsibility fell to him and his team. But why should he expend his energy on the preliminary work?
"Everyone should work for me," he thought, a new resolve hardening in his mind. "Once they find the culprit, I'll eliminate him myself."
James leaned back in his chair, the creak of wood mingling with the ambient noise. He took another sip of his wine, savoring the taste as he plotted his next move. He would delegate the initial investigations to his subordinates. They would scour the town for clues, follow leads, and narrow down the suspects. Once they had cornered the target, he would step in, delivering the final blow with precision and efficiency.
The thought brought a faint smile to his lips. He had earned his rank through skill and determination, not through chasing shadows. Let the others do the legwork; he would finish the job with the expertise that only a Rank B member possessed.
As the night wore on, James felt a renewed sense of purpose. The flickering lanterns seemed to burn brighter, casting away the shadows of doubt. He drained the last of his wine, the rich liquid warming him from the inside out. Tomorrow, he would set his plan into motion. Tomorrow, he would remind the guild and the town of Rovia why he was a force to be reckoned with.
For now, he allowed himself a moment of peace, surrounded by the hum of life and the promise of victory.