Merlin paced himself. It was already nearing seven in the evening, and he was still only halfway through the city of Aldryean'ne, en route to the Candleravens HQ. Stubborn as a mule, the prideful magus refused to accept any offers of service for the journey.
"This was a ridiculous idea," Merlin huffed, pausing to pull out his pocket watch and check the time. He sighed. The ceremony was approaching fast, and there was still much ground to cover. Figuring that this was all for naught, he closed his eyes for a brief moment before slowly turning to head back toward his cottage.
As Merlin trudged along back to his home, a voice called out to him from a passing carriage.
"Mr. Merlin?" The magus turned to see a familiar figure.
"Coach Meister," Merlin said, relief sneaking into his voice. "You're certainly out and about. What are you doing here?"
The Coach Meister, ever the dashing sight in his sharp black tailcoat, gave a knowing smile. "I could ask you the same, Guild Meister. Though judging by your attire, I'm guessing you're headed to HQ for the anniversary?" His eyes gleamed behind his glinting masquerade mask.
Merlin let out a sigh, half amused, half resigned. "I am. It's been... quite the trek."
"Why not take a ride with me, then?" Coach Meister offered, gesturing toward the empty seat beside him. "No need to punish yourself."
Merlin chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, you've convinced me."
~
The journey in the carriage was quiet at first, the noises made by the horse's hooves filling the space between them. Merlin shifted awkwardly, glancing occasionally at Coach Meister, trying to form words but hesitating each time. The Coach Meister, ever perceptive, noticed.
"You look like you've got something on your mind," he said casually, not taking his eyes off the road.
Merlin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Did you know about the celebration tonight? At HQ?"
Coach Meister smiled. "Of course. I got an invite from Artemis. Everyone did. Ink and Florian handled the invites this time around—guess they're making sure no one's left out."
Merlin raised an eyebrow, his tone suddenly tense. "Ink and Florian, huh?"
"Yup," Coach Meister said, glancing briefly at Merlin before focusing back on the road. "Why? Something wrong?"
Merlin waved it off with a half-hearted shrug. "Nah, nothing important. Just... thought maybe I'd hear about it from someone directly, you know?"
Coach Meister chuckled, slowing the carriage as they neared their destination. "Sometimes things slip through the cracks, boss. But hey, looks like we're finally here."
Merlin looked out at the bustling pub district and smiled slightly. "Thanks for the lift."
But when Coach Meister turned to respond, the seat beside him was already empty. Merlin had disappeared, just as mysteriously as he'd arrived.
Coach Meister sighed with a smirk. "That old wizard."
~
Walking across the bustling district of Aldryean'ne, Merlin squeezed his way through the smoke and crowd, navigating his way to the Star! Barrel Disco while also dodging glances as to avoid alerting people of his presence within the crowd. The magus grumbled, glancing at his pocket watch. He was running out of time.
There was currently no way he'd make it through this sea of people on foot. His patience was wearing thin, he stepped back from the crowd, narrowing his eyes toward a narrow alleyway just beyond the mass of bodies. With a flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation, a thin veil of mist began to swirl around his feet. The spell was second nature to him now—quick and precise. The mist thickened, curling up his legs and around his body like smoke rising from a dying fire.
In an instant, Merlin's form dissolved into a hazy silhouette, and with barely a whisper, he vanished from sight. One of the party goers from within the crowd managed to see this unfold right before him, however, the man simply stared at the rolled cigarette in his hand, flicking it away out of instinct.
"The hell do they put in those things?" The man uttered, shaking his head in disappointment.
Merlin, on the other hand, reappeared at the edge of the alley, his body reforming in the cool shadows. A faint trace of vapor lingered in the air where he had stood, quickly dissipating as the crowd carried on, most of them oblivious to his movement.
Chortling at his success, the Star! Barrel Disco was finally in full view. Merlin straightened his white coat, adjusting the collar as if his little stunt earlier had never happened, and pressed on through the quieter, less crowded street. Unbeknownst to the magus, however, a hooded figure with two white horns protruding from its head was silently trailing him, watching his every move.
Beneath the tattered hood is a masked hellspawn, an ominous figure wrapped in shadows. His mask, forged from jagged, obsidian-like metal, gleamed faintly beneath layers of soot. Fiery red eyes blazed through the mask's narrow slits, locked solely on Merlin. Each breath hissed through the mask's tubes like a smoldering beast ready to strike. Cloaked in darkness, he radiated an infernal presence—his every step a silent promise of destruction.
Catching a hint of this ominous presence, Merlin glanced over his shoulder, scanning the crowded streets. For a moment, he could have sworn he felt a familiar energy lingering in the air. He squinted, carefully observing his surroundings. Yet, nothing stood out, nothing caught his eye. Shaking off the unease, the magus turned his attention back to the headquarters in front of him and continued his walk.
It had been a long time since Merlin had seen the headquarters up close. And to his surprise, a nervous tension began to creep into his chest. Being in this area stirred up memories—both bitter and sweet—that he hadn't thought about in years. Memories that would serve him well later, once he was back at his cottage, working on his book.
He gulped and loosened his collar, taking a deep breath before marching into the place that had shaped him into the man he was now. But as soon as he stepped inside, Merlin was hit by a wave of overwhelming noise. The blaring music, the incessant chatter coming from every corner of the pub, and the chaotic mix of laughter and shouting assaulted his ears.
The magus could feel it instantly—he wasn't comfortable in a place like this anymore. How he longed to be back at his cottage and enjoy a nice cup of coffee while working on his book by now. Though, he is here now, and it's time to set the record straight. He was only ever here for business and nothing more.
As he took a step forward in the direction of where his office is located, a voice called out to him, "Mr. Meowlin!"
Merlin's skin crawled, it's been a while since he's heard that name in a long time and it did not get any better with time. Shaking off this feeling, he then turned his attention towards his feline compatriot.
"You know I'm getting a little too old for that name," Merlin replied to the voice with a gentle smile, "Arctic Ink."
With her arms crossed, Arctic Ink snickered at Merlin's remark. "You're never too old for 'Mr. Meowlin!' Besides, it might just help you feel younger!" Standing there, Ink looked seemingly untouched by time, though the subtle fading of her once vivid fur hinted at the years that had passed. Her green eyes still gleamed with mischief, and her vintage attire—accented with leather and brass—though worn, remained as elegant as ever. A wide-brimmed hat adorned with aged goggles perched atop her curled fur, with a few delicate flowers tucked behind her ear, a small nod to her ever-present connection to nature.
Merlin chuckled at the teasing nickname and gestured toward her attire. "I see you've continued your pursuit in... spelunking, was it?"
"Archeology, actually," Ink corrected with a sly grin. "And it's amazing! I get quick access to all the bones I need—and it's completely legal!"
They both shared a brief laugh before the cacophony of the noisy pub began to grate on Merlin's nerves. He glanced around, noting how the incessant clamor was making conversation difficult. Arctic Ink noticed his discomfort and motioned with her head toward a quieter corner near the back.
"Come on, let's grab a better spot," she said, leading him through the crowded pub.
They wove their way through the throngs of patrons until they found a small, cozier nook tucked away from the noise. Ink took a seat on one of the cushioned benches, and Merlin followed, relieved by the relative silence. Here, the music was muted, and the chatter seemed like little more than a distant hum.
Merlin sighed in relief. "Much better. You know, I've nearly forgotten how overwhelming it can be out here. I guess some things just never change."
Ink smirked, her green eyes gleaming with a mix of nostalgia and mischief. "You mean the noise or the fact that you've never really fit in with the crowd?"
Merlin chuckled, though there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "W-well, maybe both. I mean, I've spent nearly so long avoiding places like this, I almost forgot why I disliked them."
"Almost?" Ink raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. "You didn't just come here for the anniversary, did you? Something seems off."
"I'm just... surprised by how things have changed," Merlin interjected, shifting uncomfortably in his spot. "I used to be a part of this world, but now it feels like I'm just an outsider again looking in from a window."
Ink studied him for a moment before her expression softened. "You're not an outsider, Merlin. You've always been a part of this, even if you've stepped back. People change, and so do places I suppose. But that doesn't mean you don't belong anymore."
Merlin's gaze dropped to his lap, and he let out a rueful laugh. "Maybe you're right. I guess I was just pondering as well why I didn't get an invite and had to find out through a newspaper, that's all."
Ink was suddenly caught off guard by Merlin's comment, a bit baffled as well from what he meant by that last part. "What do you mean you didn't get an invitation?" she asked, tilting her head a bit.
"I didn't receive any invitation for this celebration," The magus replied, turning his gaze back at Ink. "Plain and simple."
Arctic Ink's expression turned sour as she leaned forward, her brows furrowing. "Now, now, Mr. Meowlin. We did send you an invitation. I'm sure it got to you—maybe you just don't remember?"
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, clearly agitated. "Well, I don't remember getting anything from you. I'm starting to question whether I'm losing my mind or if there's something amiss going on in the guild."
Ink's frustration was evident, though she tried to keep her tone steady. "It's not about losing your mind. We also completely followed Ssezshillu's protocol. Everyone got an invitation, including even the crime bosses of Aldryean'ne. If you didn't get it, maybe it's a mix-up or something."
Merlin frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. "But why didn't you just tell me directly? We're friends—well, at least I thought we were. I would have expected a heads-up from any of you from the guild at least."
Ink's eyes softened slightly, but her frustration remained. "I can assure you, Mr. Meowlin, we did send a letter. And I'm sorry if you didn't get it or if it got lost along the way. In any case, this was not deliberate. We're dealing with a lot of moving parts here."
Merlin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... with everything that's been happening lately, I've been having a hard time keeping track of things. I could have sworn I didn't get it, but maybe I did and forgot. I suppose that it's just been that kind of year for me."
With this, Ink simply shook her head and stood back up, dusting off the fur from her clothes and heading towards Merlin to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "I understand. It's tough when your memory plays tricks on you. I wish I could have been more helpful. I just didn't think it would be this big of a deal."
She gives Merlin a small, comforting smile, "Florian and I are also dealing with our own stuff at the moment. Let's try not to let these things ruin the evening for us. We're here now, and that's what matters." Having said all that, Arctic Ink finally took her exit and went back to the lounge to mingle with others, leaving Merlin in his little spot, pondering over all that's transpired.