Layla glanced around the room, as if she was seeing it all for the first time. The walls, the people, the buildings. The history and struggle soaked into the essence—she understood. They understood. But the nobles of Rosarium, all cozy and comfortable in the capital city, protected under the vigil of the Kingdom's Knights? All they saw was the map and the politics and the games they play.
"Now that we've come to an understanding, I shall be ending this call. I'm a busy man, after all. Have a pleasant day, Master Gerald."
"Eat shit, Mr. Retard."
"It's Redner—"
Gerald shut off the magic crystal ball with a tap. But rather than take the small victory for what it was, he began pacing around the room, fuming.
"Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable! We all signed the damn pact to keep our people alive! All of us! And still! Still, these guys are endangering their own people for their stupid politics!"
Secretary Layla rested a hand over the papers so they wouldn't fly along the wind caused by Master Gerald's swinging arms. "Maybe a more polite approach is in order?"
"Polite?" Gerald snorted. "For those snakes, being polite is like a threat. Then he'd send a tax collector and swindle us out of everything we have left!"
Master Gerald sat down on the couch. With his enormous frame, it looked more like a chair, creaking under his weight. Well, not like there's anything else in this room that could hold him without collapsing.
Deep breaths: in and out. He had lungs large enough to blow a grown man off his feet, but the exercise Layla taught him was working its magic. Soon, his shoulders relaxed, and the angry wrinkles on his face disappeared. Straightening his tie, he looked toward the door.
"You can come in now," he said.
The door opened, and in stepped Layla's favorite White Mage.
She had come straight from a bath after returning from yet another arduous quest, yet again covered in gore. So soon after a brush death of death from a Wild Hunt, too. There was a towel hanging over her neck. Her white hair was still damp and disheveled, smelling of lilacs. The white cloak she was known for was still left out to dry, revealing a blue tunic whose color turned faint from the constant alcoholic treatments used to clean it.
Layla still remembered when Willow first appeared: cold and lone, haggard and weary, like she hadn't slept in days. Everyone thought she was a Rustie, a noble girl who ran from home and thought to try her hand at a 'glamorous' life of adventuring. She was too prickly and educated to be otherwise. Someone was searching for her, at the very least.
But nobody came.
Apparently, she was returning from Collegium, the Northern Magic Towers, where Risadel was a brief stop toward Lunaria, the Holy Garden Kingdom, before she ran out of money to pay for the carriage ride. She had joined the Dragon Tale guild to find a job, and the rest was history.
Now, over seven months later, she was stuck doing quests as a part of the Support Corps as if she had nowhere else to go.
It was such a shame, too, Layla thought. Such a cute face stuck in the front lines, dealing with so many goblin quests... The world can be so unfair sometimes.
"Willow," Gerald nodded. "Just the girl I like to see."
"How's the new soap been treating you?" Layla smiled. "Slides the blood and gunk right off, doesn't it?"
"It's...been great." Willow pulled up a chair. "What about you? Talking to the admins from the capital again?"
Gerald sneered. "Those rat bastards saddled with us another escort quest right after we got done with the last one. Another caravan of dubious goods, no questions asked."
"You weren't complaining last time when they offered a big shipment of Salamander Wine," Layla teased.
"T-That was before we had a Wild Hunt to deal with!"
"Is this why you called for me?" Willow droned. "An escort?"
"No. I've used up a favor and already have someone trustworthy handling that."
Willow blinked. "Really now..."
Gerald nodded. "Layla?"
That was her cue. Secretary Layla picked off a folder and slid it across the meeting table. "This is an updated list of Rusties from the other branches. And two of them are found right here in Risadel."
"Oh, boy..." Poor girl was already losing the light in her eyes as she opened the folder. "What is it this time? Runaways? An elopement? Daredevils lured in by the scent of adventure?"
"We don't know," Layla said. "What we do know is that their families must be up. Way up."
Willow scanned through the papers. "Two females, a Magic Fencer and a Wind Mage, high-level equipment, jewelry sold to some pawnshop..." A few page flips. "A LOT of pawnshops. And an affinity for quests with high risk, low reward. So we have a heroic bunch who were not afraid to hide their status—duchy at minimum—but no lineage to point to. How often does that happen?"
"Not very," Gerald said. "Normal Rusties would bumble around and invoke their family names, either to show off or if things got too hard. Whoever these shits are, they're good. Good enough to travel far and stay incognito."
"Why haven't we reported them to Rosarium officials yet?"
"Because no one, not even that rat bastard, Mr. Retard, called for us to find them." Gerald shrugged his massive shoulders. "Not yet anyway. For now, we can assume they have the blessing of their families—or they're not important enough for the other nobles to bother. You'd be surprised how often nobles 'look out' for one another as a 'favor', if you catch my drift."
"Still, it's a scary position to be in," Layla said. She swept the piles of papers—and the quilt—aside to reveal the table map beneath. She traced a finger across the roads between Risadel and the greater parts of the Rosarium domain. "With so many elimination quests put on hold, there will be more monster activity than ever. People won't be getting in or out of Risadel without significant protection. If anything happens to these girls, Risadel will be held responsible. But," she wet her lips, "they just might be what we need to contact an alternate backer. We need someone to watch over them, or at least until things cool down."
"And you," Gerald pointed, "are the best White Mage for the job."
Willow blanched. "You mean I'm the only White Mage for the job. Aren't you putting too much faith in a Silver-ranked adventurer? I really don't think..."
"None of that matters, kid. Your record is impeccable. No matter which party of munchkins you wind up in, they always come back alive. How about I sweeten the deal?" Gerald raised a finger just as Willow was about to refute. Reaching under the couch, he pulled out a pouch that Layla had prepared a while ago and tossed it.
Willow caught it in one hand. She gave it a little shake, and all 1500 gald in pretty gold coins jiggled inside.
"You'll be exempt from joining any other party until this is resolved. And I've doubled your normal monthly pay. Heard you were in a deficit recently."
When Willow turned to Layla with a look, the secretary returned it with a wink and a smile. The guild held a close relationship with the local alchemists, after all. With a mutual vested interest in the safety of their adventurers and the severity of potion poisoning, it was as simple as asking who were their biggest spenders.
"Get the job done like you always had," Gerald said. "Treat it like a normal quest."
"Normal, huh..." Willow stared at the pouch, deep in thought. Like the word 'normal' was as mysterious as the darkest depths of the Evil Lake's abyss.
The secretary shot the Master with a pointed look, and he winced a little, realizing his mistake. It was a poor choice of words. After all, Willow's quests were anything but normal.
Willow's sigh broke the silence. "Fine. A job's a job. Can't say no to money, anyway..."
A part of Layla felt guilty springing such an important job on the White Mage like this, but she couldn't help but feel the relief washing over her. The doors may be closed for the admins at Rosarium's capital, but with these mysterious Rusties, they just might...
"Just tell me one thing, out of curiosity. I've been meaning to ask for a while now, anyway."
Gerald sat up straight. "Shoot."
"Nikolas, the Shielder. And Markus, the Swordsman. Is there something important I should know about them?"
Gerald went silent. But Layla knew his tells well enough that even he, a Platinum-ranked adventurer, had been startled. There was the imperceptible widening of his eyes right before he killed it. A stone-like expression took its place.
Layla, feeling the tension in the air, looked away.
"I can't say," he finally said.
Willow huffed. "Fair enough, I suppose. I'll be heading out now."
She hopped out of her chair and turned to leave, twirling the pouch of coins into a knotty pile in her hands. She was about halfway through opening the door when...
"Willow."
She paused by the door frame.
"...May Kyaeris's blessings blow your sails," Gerald said.
"Yeah," Layla said softly. "Good luck."
There was a faraway look on Willow's face. "...You should know by now that luck doesn't apply to me. But thanks."
The door closed. And she was gone.
Gerald sighed, reclining on the couch with his arms flopped to his sides. Layla slumped onto the table, never minding her arms messing with the table map. After all, those were familiar names.
Markus, an old friend. And Nikolas...
Nikolas Clover.