If there was one thing Gress knew about Serys—aside from her love of gold and her uncanny ability to save enough to open a bakery—it was that she would do anything to ensure the guild stayed at the top.
So when he found the bakery closed on a regular workday, as he stopped by for his usual order of a chewy roll with cream cheese and coffee, his stomach sank. Something was wrong.
"Rieze! Rieze!" he called, bursting into the guildhall, breathless and panicked.
"What?" Rieze replied, his tone sharp as Gress interrupted his breakfast of hot porridge.
"It's Serys!"
Rieze slowly set his spoon down and gave the elf a long, narrowed look. "Did something happen?"
"Maybe?" Gress hedged, walking closer.
"Is she in trouble?"
"Possibly."
"Did she get into a fight?"
"Probably?"
Rieze rolled his eyes and lifted his spoon again. "Are we going to do this all day, or do you actually have something to say?"
"I don't know! All I know is that her bakery is closed. It's not even her day off!" Gress explained in a rush.
Rieze sighed and rose from his seat. "When was the last time you saw her?" he asked as they started upstairs toward the guild's second floor, where the private rooms were.
"Last night. She was in the receiving room, writing letters—something about supplies for the bakery and materials for the parade," Gress replied, trailing behind.
Rieze stopped outside Serys's door, tilting his head as if listening for any movement. Just as he raised his hand to knock, a voice called from the stairwell above.
"She's not feeling well," Ronan said, descending from the third-floor dorms while rummaging through his satchel.
"Huh?" Rieze turned to face him.
Ronan handed him a folded note. "She left this."
Rieze unfolded it and read aloud: Let's keep the bakery closed today. I'm sleeping in. – S
He sighed and knocked gently on the door. "Serys, I hope you're decent, because I'm coming in," he said, pushing the door open.
The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight. Serys lay curled under a heavy blanket, her face flushed. A bowl of water with a damp cloth sat on the bedside table next to a bucket filled with ice shards, cooling the room.
"She's got a fever," Rieze said, feeling her forehead. "Not too high, but enough to knock her out."
"She's been overworking herself," Ronan added. "The parade is in a few days, and the bakery's been busier than ever."
"I'll be fine," Serys murmured weakly from under the blanket. "I just need to sleep this off."
Rieze gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about the parade. Everything's on track. Just rest."
"Should I get a healer?" Ronan asked.
"Healers can't heal non-magical ailments," Gress explained.
Rieze turned to Gress. "it's fine, I'll take care of her. Just go on with your day."
"Gress," Serys said, peeking out from the covers. "No funny business with the preparations. Got it?"
"What do you think I am, reckless?" Gress protested, crossing his arms.
Rieze said, "I know you plan to do a dungeon request, so do that and—"
"Don't do anything stupid in the bakery and on the preparations," Serys said weakly but sternly.
"I won't! What do you think of me?"
Rieze smirked. "We've known you for over ten years, Gress. You can't fool us."
"Fine! I'll stick to the plan," he grumbled, throwing his hands up.
"Good," Serys whispered. "Now let me sleep."
Rieze placed a reassuring hand on Gress's shoulder. "I know you can do it. Just follow the plan and don't worry too much."
"And don't get anyone killed!" Serys added, sniffing.
As Rieze went to tend to Serys, Gress left the room with a mix of uncertainty and determination brewing in his chest. Sure, Serys had planned everything down to the last detail, but it was up to him to ensure the guild upheld her standards in her absence.
"Alright," he muttered, squaring his shoulders. "If I can't do it for the guild, I'll do it for my friends."
He rallied the guild members in the hall, channeling Rieze's commanding tone. "Alright, folks! Our Serys is down, and our guild leader's busy playing nurse," he announced, earning a round of chuckles. "That means it's on us to get everything done perfectly, extravagantly, and on time. Are you with me?"
The adventurers responded with a thunderous cheer.
"Okay, ladies!... and gents," he said after hearing disgruntled noises from the male members, "I know most of you have taken quests this morning. If you can finish those and turn them in just before nightfall, we will divide and conquer assignments, and we'll start working harder tomorrow!"
Back in Serys's room, Rieze leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as he watched her sip her herbal tea remedy. Her pale complexion hinted at lingering fatigue, though her alert eyes showed the fever was beginning to abate.
"Sounds like he's motivated," Rieze said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Everything is going according to plan," Serys replied, her voice soft yet tinged with satisfaction. She set her tea down on the nightstand and leaned back against the headboard. "Now, I just need a few hours of sleep. I never joke about anyone's health, so a fever is still a fever."
Rieze inclined his head in agreement. "I'll get you something to eat."
As he turned to leave, Serys's voice halted him. "If there's one thing we both know about Gress, it's that his Elven pride won't let him sit back and do nothing. He'll turn this parade into a spectacle, even if it kills him."
Rieze chuckled, shaking his head. "True enough. But honestly, if he didn't do anything, we'd still pull it off just fine. Either way, we win."
"Exactly," Serys murmured, her lips curving into a wry smile as she closed her eyes. "Now let me sleep before the parade becomes my wake."
Gress and his party emerged from the dungeon just an hour after noon, triumphant but weary. The young Lumina healer looked shaken, clutching her staff tightly as she stared at Gress with wide, tear-filled eyes, as though she'd just stared down a dragon. Their quest was to escort a group of researchers to an unexplored room in the dungeon, but Gress decided it would be much faster if he dragged all the monsters and killed them in one sweep.
"This was how I trained Serys in the past," Gress declared proudly, patting the young healer on the shoulder. His tone was meant to be encouraging, but the healer's teary sniffles made it clear she found it more traumatizing than inspiring.
One of the other party members, an archer with a perpetual smirk, chimed in dryly, "Well, if the goal was to toughen her up, I'd say mission accomplished. She's practically stone-faced. If the stone is crying."
Gress scowled but reluctantly nodded. "Fine, fine. No more war stories. But she'll learn—Serys always says growth comes from pushing your limits."
The young healer muttered something inaudible, which might have been a prayer, a curse, or both.
With the dungeon quest completed earlier than expected, Gress found himself restless. Sitting idle was out of the question, so he took a sharp turn from his usual routine. Strolling into the guild hall where members were scattered, he clapped his hands loudly, drawing attention.
"Alright, everyone, listen up!" he began, the glint in his eyes somewhere between determination and mischief. "I'm offering my services to help you wrap up your quests. Faster completion means more time to prep for the parade, and more time for the parade means a bigger win for us!"
At first, the guild members exchanged dubious looks, clearly unsure whether Gress's offer was a blessing or a hidden challenge.
"You?" an archer scoffed. "What's the catch?"
"The catch is that I'm about to make all of you look good," Gress retorted, hands on his hips. "Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll make sure it's handled. Efficiency is my middle name today."
And so began Gress's whirlwind tour of the guild's pending quests. He joined a duo on a monster-slaying task, showing off his blade-and-shield techniques in a way that had the younger members gawking. He hauled crates for merchants in record time, all while exchanging banter with the guild's mages, even managing to lighten the mood of a notoriously grumpy sorcerer. By late afternoon, he was helping another team catalogue ancient relics, his sheer energy making up for his lack of scholarly finesse.
One of the guild members, a bard with a knack for quips, summed it up best. "He's like a storm in boots. We didn't even ask for help, and now everything's done before we could blink."
Gress brushed off the comment, standing amidst the now-relaxed guild members with a triumphant grin. "See? This is how you prep for a parade! Now let's make Serys regret ever doubting me!"