Ch 9.1 - Wallus The Menace

Mr. Gother was rinsed clean and placed under the care of a full team of healers. Even so, it took several days before he could properly open his eyes. His face remained swollen and raw, skin mottled red and oozing where the spice had eaten into his pores. The concoction Chloe had used was not an allergen—had it been, the damage might have been less severe. Instead, the sheer potency of the spices had reacted directly with his flesh, leaving lasting irritation and pain.

Once he regained clarity, he was escorted back to his estate. But the matter did not end there.

The Gother family—one of Barville’s long‑established merchant houses—was furious. They demanded a formal apology from the Tranquil Pavilion and threatened legal repercussions through the BRAVE’s civil court, the very institution responsible for law and order within the city. For a guild already walking a thin line, the threat carried real weight.

The red‑haired beauty descended the marble stairs with measured steps, small horns jutting elegantly from her scalp. Heads turned instinctively as she passed. Conversations hushed. Even among nobles and adventurers alike, Mesphine was a rare sight—renowned not only for her beauty, but for the authority that followed her wherever she walked.

Today, however, her expression was anything but serene.

Her brows were drawn low as she exited the Pavilion’s main doors, where a carriage waited near the fountain square. The street buzzed quietly around her, yet she seemed distant from it all.

“So,” Mesphine asked as she approached the carriage, “has Riasmel awakened yet?”

Beside her walked Tevu, tall and broad‑shouldered, her muscular frame unmistakable even beneath her kimono. “No,” Tevu replied evenly. “I tried earlier. She lashed out in her sleep and nearly demolished half the room with her tail.”

Mesphine halted briefly, concern flickering across her face. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Tevu answered. “It takes more than that to put me down.”

Mesphine exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Big sister Rias has always been difficult. Let her rest for now.” She paused, then looked at Tevu more directly. “With Madam Onteko away—and my own absence—I want you overseeing the Pavilion.”

Tevu blinked, startled. “Me? Shouldn’t Aisha—”

“Aisha is Madam Onteko’s trusted right hand,” Mesphine cut in calmly. “But I’m the acting guildmaster now, and I say it’s you.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Unless that bothers you?”

Tevu straightened at once. “Of course not.”

“Good.” Mesphine turned toward the carriage, skirts brushing stone. “Then I trust you prepared everything I requested.”

Tevu nodded once. “Everything is prepared.”

She opened the carriage door.

Inside waited five young beastwomen, carefully dressed and adorned with makeup far finer than their usual station. Silk clung to uncertain shoulders; jewelry sat heavy against unfamiliar skin. For a heartbeat, all of them froze at the sight of Mesphine—caught off guard by her presence, her bearing, her quiet authority. Admiration flickered across their faces before reality settled back in.

“My lady—greetings,” they said together, bowing hastily.

Mesphine smiled and lifted a hand. “No need for that. I’m not standing above you today. I’ll be riding as your sister—so save the bows.”

The tension eased, just a little. A few tentative smiles appeared, eyes lingering on her with something close to reassurance.

Mesphine stepped closer. “I want to thank you again,” she said gently. “What you’ve agreed to isn’t easy, and the Tranquil Pavilion acknowledges the weight of that choice. You will be compensated fairly once this is over.”

The girls exchanged glances. Unease lingered—fear braided with resignation. Mesphine read it easily. Most had not come willingly. Families had pushed them forward after seeing the notice—gold promised, futures bargained away. One bore tear‑stained eyes; another clenched her hands in her lap, knuckles white.

Mesphine felt the familiar ache settle in her chest. She knew that look too well. Lovers left behind. Childhood promises abandoned. Quiet dreams crushed by necessity. Now they sat here, dressed as offerings.

“I won’t lie to you,” Mesphine said, her voice firm but warm. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. No one will harm you under my watch. And if anyone dares…” her smile sharpened just a touch, “…I’ll personally remind them where their manners belong.”

A few nervous laughs slipped out. The tension cracked—if only briefly.

“When this is done,” Mesphine continued, “you’ll take your gold and return home. To your families. To your lives. That much, I promise.”

It wasn’t freedom—but it was the best she could offer.

Mesphine climbed into the carriage, the door closing behind her as the driver urged the beasts forward. The Pavilion faded behind them as they rolled out of the city, toward the neighbouring town where the Gother estate waited.

She carried potions, compensation, and five unwilling lambs to settle a debt that never should have existed. And if that still failed to appease the man—Mesphine’s golden eyes hardened—then negotiations were over.

The carriage rolled away, wheels clattering softly as it disappeared down the road.

Tevu watched it go, shoulders sinking as the dust settled. “I’m not leader material,” she muttered under her breath, the words tasting bitter even as she said them. With a slow exhale, she turned back toward the Pavilion, already bracing herself for the work waiting inside.

That was when she noticed him.

A lone figure stood near the entrance, posture relaxed, presence intrusive in a way that made her scales itch. Tall, broad-shouldered, shirt hanging open without a shred of shame, scars on display as if they were medals—Wallus. The human captain of the Bastion Guild. The Church’s lapdog envoy, enjoying the Pavilion’s hospitality without paying a single coin.

His gaze lingered in the direction the carriage had gone, lips curled into a knowing grin, the kind that suggested plans already set in motion. After a moment, he turned and strode back inside the Pavilion as though it belonged to him.

Tevu’s jaw tightened.

She hadn’t liked him from the start. There was something rotten beneath that confidence, something predatory in the way his eyes lingered and calculated. And that grin—she hated that grin most of all.