Summons From Guildmaster

The Adventurers’ Guild buzzed the way a tavern does before a storm: boots thudded, buckles clinked, and frayed notices fluttered on a draft that always seemed to come from nowhere. Morgana threaded through the crowd and parked herself in front of the board, eyes sliding over columns of quests.

“Hunt three dire boars,” she murmured. “Messy. Pass.” Her gaze drifted. “Escort caravan to Northgate… absolutely not, I’m not babysitting anyone’s grandma.” She skimmed lower. 

“Gather fifty wolf pelts? What am I, a mobile taxidermy shop?” Her mouth quirked, then flattened. “Pay’s trash, too.” 

Her eyes caught a familiar looking parchment. “Goblins again? Too soon. I can still smell the last batch.”

She leaned in, reading the fine print on a handful of postings. Some were stamped with red ink, rush work, others had tidy little guild seals with polite wording that boiled down to: this won’t kill you but won’t pay you either. A few jobs actually glimmered with promise until she caught the rank requirement. 

“Oh, look, wyvern hunt. C-rank minimum. Of course it is... Bastards.”

She was halfway through considering whether she could fake a C-rank badge when she heard footsteps approaching with the practiced rhythm of someone who belonged here. Morgana didn’t turn until the voice spoke.

“Ms. Wildrider? The receptionist, the same ordinary, thirty-something man from registration with tidy hair and a serviceable smile, stood at her shoulder. “The Guildmaster would like to see the adventurer who handled the goblin camp yesterday.”

Morgana blinked, caught between confusion and mild panic. “Uh… right now?”

“If you’re available,” he said, polite as a prayer.

She forced one of her own smiles in return. “Sure. Let’s go meet the queen bee.” she said casually, but inside her thoughts were anything but calm. 

Shit, what is this about? Am I in trouble? Did someone see me flying? No, no, calm down, just… act natural and don’t look suspicious. Pretend you’re normal and not a demon with a murderstick.

He led her through a side hall that smelled faintly of oil and parchment, up a narrow stair that complained at every step, and down a corridor lined with closed doors. At the last one, he gave a neat rap.

“Enter,” said a woman’s voice, crisp and even.

The receptionist opened the door and gestured her in.

Morgana took one step over the threshold and stopped dead.

Avric stood in full armor near a small round table, polished steel catching lamplight, golden hair neatly brushed, expression carefully neutral. To his right, Tomas in priestly whites, hands folded loosely at his belt, calm as always. To the left, Borik: squat, solid, his gear dented and honest, arms crossed over his barrel chest. 

All three men turned toward her in the same heartbeat.

She stared back. Oh, perfect. We just keep running into each other like a bad romance subplot. “…Well, this is awkward.”

The woman behind the desk was an elf, short blonde hair, sharp pink eyes behind narrow spectacles, a robe neat enough to make a tailor weep. The air around her had that quiet, dangerous stillness spellcasters wear like perfume. She gave the calm, watchful air of a spellcaster who could vaporize someone without raising her voice.

Avric glanced her way. “Guildmaster,” he said, voice steady, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We asked to meet the adventurer who cleared the goblin camp, not a new recruit.”

The elf inclined her head toward Morgana. “There is no misunderstanding. She is the one who did it. She is also happens to be a new recruit.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with her scythe.

Borik was the first to break it, brow raised. “Lass, no offense—”

“Very much taken,” Morgana cut in, voice sharp as broken glass.

“—but there’s nae way ye handled that whole nest alone,” Borik finished, unbothered.

Tomas cleared his throat. “We don’t mean to insult you, truly. It’s just… improbable for a new D-rank to accomplish such a feat without aid.”

“Oh, it’s an insult,” Morgana said sweetly. “You’re looking at me like I’m a stray kitten claiming to have wrestled a dragon.”

Avric frowned, concern in his voice. “We didn’t mean to belittle you, Miss Morgana. It’s just… improbable.”

“Oh, is it improbable?” Morgana said, sweet as knives. “It’s inconvenient for your worldview. Tell that to the goblin ears I hauled in. Or the general’s head. Or…” She flicked her cloak aside; dried gore and dirt stained the hem of her gear. “...the evidence I’m still wearing.”

Borik’s nose wrinkled. “Aye, well… ye could’ve rolled around in the mess fer all we know.”

She blinked at him. “Oh, you’re right. I love doing that for fun. In fact, nothing gets me in the mood like marinating in goblin intestines. Want me to bring you some next time?”

The dwarf barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Ye’ve got a nasty tongue on ye, lass.”

“And a sharper blade,” she shot back without missing a beat.

Tomas tried to play peacemaker. “Borik, stop teasing her.”

“Teasing? I’m testin’ the lass,” Borik said with a shrug. “If she’s the one who did the deed, she can handle a few jabs.”

“Oh, I can handle more than that, short stack,” Morgana said sweetly.

Borik snorted. “Careful, lass, I’ve headbutted trolls.”

“And I’ve gutted them. Your point?”

The priest’s lips twitched like he was fighting a smile, while Avric gave an exasperated sigh.

The Guildmaster cleared her throat. Quietly, but with the kind of weight that made everyone shut up. “If you three are finished bickering between yourselves...”

Avric shifted in his seat. “My apologies, Morgana. We didn’t realize.”

She tilted her head, eyes glittering. “I’ll bet you didn’t. Now, if we’re done doubting me, maybe you can tell me why I was dragged up here.”

Avric replied with a calm tone.

“The reason we requested your presence is because we suspect those goblins were placed there by demon forces. We intend to examine the site and the surrounding woods for evidence; tracks, talismans, residual magic, anything that narrows intent. We wished to hire the adventurer who cleared the camp to guide us to the exact location and relevant approach paths.”