A Royal Summons

Back in the Adventurers Guild, Guild Master Brando was reading and listening to the reports given by a small adventurer group that had teamed up with the Outlander and a testimony from the Outlander himself.

Within the Guild Master’s private office, the air was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke from Richard’s habit of chain-smoking, the crackling of wood in the fireplace and a heavy sense of foreboding. Given what the Outlander had explained, the documents he had recovered and the connection between all these events, it was clear to Brando that things were NOT going to end well, even if he continued to pursue the truth along with the bounty hunter.

Richard had good evidence that led them to believe that the Black Talon group were indeed involved in criminal activities, but their mastermind was still hidden.

"So, the Black Talon group is indeed working for a noblewoman, it all points to a Baroness… I'm still digging for a name," Richard summarized, a cynical curl to his lip. "Making deals with Orcs and Kobolds to rig quest difficulties, sending out greenhorn adventurers to their deaths. My thinking is that she’s trying to undermine the Guild’s power, diminish your capabilities and find a patsy to take control of it for some more shady deals. The fact that they’re getting involved with minions of the Demon Lord concerns me the most..." He tossed a small, intricately carved wooden totem onto the desk – a crude symbol of the monstrous alliance he'd just broken up. "I took care of the Black Talon thugs and the monsters. They'll be back, but I put enough of a scare into them that they'll be cautious for a while. "

Brando picked up the totem, his expression grim. "As I suspected. This is far more insidious than just simple banditry. You've done well, Wolf. Your methods might be… unconventional, but results speak for themselves." He looked up, a slight hesitation in his gaze. "However, there's been an… interruption."

Richard’s eyes narrowed. "Interruption? I'm on the verge of uncovering this 'Baroness.' We have momentum here."

Brando sighed, his gaze flickering briefly to a sealed royal scroll on the desk. "It's the Princess, Outlander. Princess Alice. She has… requested your immediate presence at the castle."

Richard’s face, already etched with the weariness of centuries, hardened further. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "That kid, really? What the hell could she possibly want now? I just dealt with her melodramatic summoning a few weeks ago, told her I'd do things my way." His hand unconsciously drifted to the hilt of one of his holstered firearms. The thought of facing her "pomp and melodrama" again, especially when he was so close to a breakthrough, sent a fresh wave of irritation coursing through him.

"She's been receiving… reports," Brando said carefully, avoiding his gaze. "Rumors. Concerns from certain high-ranking individuals regarding your methods, your inquiries into their dealings. She wants to address them. Personally."

Richard’s jaw tightened. "So, the big wigs are starting to feel the heat when someone’s actually looking at their rotten practices, and I’m supposed to dance to their tune? Unbelievable." He took a deep, steadying breath, the kind a man takes to rein in a mounting storm. "Fine. Tell Missy I'll grace her with my presence. But she'd better make it quick. I've got a Baroness to hunt."

He turned on his heel, his duster coat flaring behind him, and stomped out of the office, his anger already boiling. He didn't bother with courtesies, only the mounting frustration of a job interrupted and a naive royal trying to assert control over a man who had long ago ceased to care for titles or decorum.

For Princess Alice, the utmost decorum was expected. All her life she had been taught to respect the authority of the King and the laws of her country of Alcainez. When her father told her that they needed to summon a hero from another world, she felt both a wave of responsibility as well as excitement. During her childhood she had heard stories of the Summoned Heroes of old who were paragons of virtue, powerful yet also kind and just. Every story she had read and heard of the World Travellers was filled with adventure, Good overcoming Evil, and the Princess marrying the Hero.

All that came crashing when the World Traveller, Richard Wolf was summoned and shattered her childhood dreams with crass language, disrespect towards royalty, complete lack of decorum and violent behavior.

In the weeks since he had been summoned, the Summoned “Hero” had been taking requests from the Adventurers Guild like a common man. According to the reports she received he had a knack for completing impossible tasks, giving advice to young adventurers and earning the respect of his fellow adventurers. All of that would be exemplary had it not been for the other reports she had gotten.

Many nobles and high ranking officials were complaining that the Outlander was constantly harassing them with questions about their business, their connections to certain infamous adventurer groups and his violent attempts to intimidate them. Unable to deal with such an “uncouth individual”, they vented their frustrations towards the Princess.

Enough was enough. Using her authority as the Crown Princess, she ordered the Guild Master to deliver a royal summons from the Princess to answer for his continued harassment of the nobles. She felt compelled to protect them against the Outlander she had brought here in the first place.

As she waited in the Royal Drawing Room, she was trying her best to remain calm. She was used to speaking with nobility, military leaders and foreign dignitaries. Speaking with the World Traveller, this Richard Wolf, was completely different. Just when she had finally calmed down her nerves, she heard the herald announcing an arrival:

“M-Mister R-Richard Wolf!”

The heavy oak door of the Drawing Room creaked open, admitting Richard Wolf inside. Dust, not of the castle's pristine floors but of forgotten trails and recent scuffles, clung to his duster coat. He looked no more enthusiastic than the day he arrived, perhaps even less so. His steel-colored eyes, already narrowed from the interruption, swept over the opulent room, lingering for a beat on the strategically placed royal guards who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Princess Alice sat poised, not at a desk but in a high-backed velvet chair, her hands clasped delicately in her lap. Her expression was a careful blend of regality and barely concealed nervousness. She looked pointedly at the guards, a silent instruction to be alert, before turning her gaze to Richard.

"Richard Wolf," she began, her voice strained but attempting to project authority, "Thank you for answering my summons."

Richard offered no reply, merely grunted, scanning the room as if searching for an escape route. He stopped directly in front of her, making no move to bow or acknowledge her rank beyond his presence. He tapped his right earlobe once, making the magic circle appear upon it to record their conversation.

Alice cleared her throat. "I have called you here because reports have reached my ears regarding your… activities in the city." She paused, expecting some form of explanation or defense. She received only his steely, impatient stare. "Specifically," she pressed on, a hint of accusation entering her tone, "there are rumors. Rumors of you, a mere adventurer, harassing members of the nobility. Interrogating them."

“Says who?” Richard fired with barely restrained anger.

The Princess felt her heart skip with anxiety at the rude interruption from the Outlander. He had a penchant of speaking out of line as always.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but these concerns were brought to me by a dear friend of the Crown, Baroness Sinis.” The Princess closed her eyes with indignation trying to control her nerves. She didn’t notice the sudden flash of revelation in the eyes of the Outlander.

Richard’s brow furrowed, but he remained silent, waiting for the Princess to continue.

Growing bolder, seeing his silence as perhaps a sign of acquiescence or guilt, Alice continued, "These individuals, Sir Wolf, are the very backbone of our kingdom! They contribute to its prosperity, its stability. For a newcomer, a… a Summoned Hero with no understanding of our customs or hierarchies, to openly target them is… unacceptable." She leaned forward slightly, her attempt at a commanding tone faltering. "You are to cease these inquiries immediately. You will stop harassing the nobles, and you will refrain from making any further accusations against them."

A slow, deliberate sigh escaped Richard. He took a single step closer, his eyes boring into hers, and the raw irritation he'd been holding back finally broke free.

"You’ve got to be shitting me, Missy," he growled, the calm drawl gone, replaced by an edge of genuine fury. He jabbed a finger in the air, not quite at her, but in her general direction. "You summoned me here because your kingdom is falling apart, because a Demon King is coming, and because your 'noble' heroes couldn't get the job done! I'm here doing the dirty work that no one else can or will do! YOUR dirty work! And you want me to stop because it's ruffling the feathers of some butthurt fancypants who don’t like it when someone questions them?"

His voice dropped, becoming a dangerous, low rumble. "You think I give a single damn about your 'backbone' when that 'backbone' is rotting from the inside out? You think I care about 'noble sensibilities' when people are dying because some well-dressed parasites are rigging the game and making deals with monsters? I don't care about your titles, your customs, or your fragile little egos! I'm here to find the problem, and then I'm going to fix it. And if that means dragging your 'backbone' through the mud to get to the truth, then that's exactly what I'll do. I told you already once, child, I don’t need your help and I don’t need to stand around in ceremony when I have a job to do."

He took another step, the guards tensing, but Richard ignored them entirely, his gaze locked on the Princess. "I work for the Goddess, not for your tea parties and certainly not for your crooked nobility. So, with all due respect, Princess, you can take your orders and shove 'em. I'm going to finish what I started."

Richard's final words hung heavy in the air, thick with contempt. Princess Alice flinched, her porcelain face paling considerably. This was not the dignified, controlled hero she had imagined, nor even the merely rude one. This was a force of nature, untamed and terrifying in his conviction. Her carefully constructed composure shattered, replaced by raw fear.

"Guards!" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, yet it was enough.

In an instant, the air filled with the rasp of steel. Royal guards, pale-faced but resolute, drew their ornate swords, their blades glinting in the dim light of the drawing-room. They formed a defensive semicircle around their Princess, their eyes fixed on the man who had just verbally eviscerated her.

Richard, however, didn't so much as twitch. His gaze, colder than steel, swept over the armed men, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing his features before it hardened into utter disdain. With a movement so casual it was insulting, he reached inside his duster. The guards tensed, but he merely produced a familiar, slender cylinder. He brought it to his lips, struck a match on his stubbled chin – the same crude gesture that had infuriated her on his arrival – and drew a long, slow drag from the cigarette. A thin plume of smoke drifted lazily towards the high ceiling, completely disregarding the unspoken tension. He let out a soft, mirthless huff, exhaling smoke towards the nervous guards as if they were nothing more than an annoyance.

"Look at them," Richard scoffed, his voice laced with venom, not bothering to lower it for Alice's tender ears. "And look at you, Missy. Cowering behind polished steel and men who've never seen a real fight outside of a training yard. You think this is how the world works, don't you? That your pretty words and your daddy's guards can fix everything? That's your problem, child."

He took another drag, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the quiet room. "You've lived your whole life inside these walls, fed on stories of gallant knights and shining heroes. Never had to worry about where your next meal came from, never had to bury a friend, never had to make a choice between bad and worse. This ain't a fairy tale, child. My world, the one I actually live in, is dirt and blood and ugly truths." He gestured around the opulent room with his free hand. "This whole place... it's a gilded cage. You think you know 'the world'? You don't know a damned thing."

His eyes narrowed, piercing hers with an intensity that made her shiver despite the warmth of the room. "And you want to tell me how to clean up a mess you're too blind or too scared to even acknowledge? The 'nobles' you're so worried about are letting your kingdom rot from the inside. And you'd rather pretend it's all sunshine and rainbows than face the dark that's coming." He flicked ash onto the pristine rug, a final, deliberate act of defiance. "Grow up! Before your little kingdom burns down around you."

Richard flicked ash onto the pristine rug, a final, deliberate act of defiance. Alice stared, her lips parted, but no words came. Every one of his crude, cutting remarks had landed like a hammer blow, shattering the delicate porcelain of her sheltered reality. The truth, stark and undeniable, resonated with a chilling clarity she couldn't ignore, no matter how much she wished to. She didn't know. She hadn't lived. And he, the foul-mouthed man before her, was a living embodiment of the dangerous, unforgiving world she had only read about in fables. Her fear solidified into a chilling dread, a cold knot in her stomach.

Without another word, Richard turned his back on the silent, trembling Princess and her frozen guards. He didn't ask for leave, didn't wait for a dismissal. His spurs jingled softly as he strode towards the drawing room door, his duster swirling around him like a cloak of indifference. The guards, swords still drawn, watched him go, exchanging nervous glances but making no move to stop him. Who could? After what they had just witnessed, and with the chilling memory of the shattered sword, none dared to cross the bounty hunter who walked his own path.

The heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving Princess Alice alone in the opulent room, surrounded by her motionless, armed guards, the faint scent of Richard's tobacco a lingering ghost of his terrifying presence. The "Summoned Hero" had come and gone, leaving behind not hope, but a stark, unsettling truth.