The Grand Weave

With a small flourish, the final stack of papers requiring his signature was finished. Brelten sighed as he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his tea. The tea was cold and flat, and the sweet, complex flavour it was known for was barely existent. Still, the act of sipping at the beverage brought a sense of peace to his mind. A peace that was constantly fraying at the edges with every day spent out here in the Yidelwoods.

Four days have passed since the children went inside the rift. Those four days could have been months for the team inside. With the rift being wild and appearing on such short notice, there was no way to measure the exact time dilation inside. Not that it should have been anything too crazy. Usually, rifts with extreme time dilations had a certain feel to the energy they gave off. And thankfully, the rift had barely a hint of time essence.

He still wasn't sure if the fact that the rift portal remained closed gave him more relief than stress. On the one hand, it meant that the children were still alive. Conversely, it meant they still had a chance to fail, and the entire team could wipe. Even with the personality issues of the members of Talon, the expedition team had a high likelihood of succeeding. Though, one was never to underestimate the dangers of a rift. In particular, two newborns green as fresh grass made his stomach churn. Sending two new adventurers, not even tier one, would have been a death sentence in most scenarios. But, decades of experience from his time spent adventuring made him confident in his decision. Even if he ignored their status as Reborns, a healer was an insanely lucky find. If everything went to plan, Cyrus and Sam would remain relatively safe while providing valuable healing to the expedition team.

Setting his tea down, he mentally checked inside his dimensional storage and pulled out a stack of files. With his memory being enhanced by his tier, recalling the details on the adventurer's guild files was easy, but it felt better to read through the files physically. Grabbing from the bottom of the stack, he grabbed the files marked with a blue dot. Inside the leather folder were four files.

Dyllan's team was as standard as they came. Nothing special in the end, but effective. Dyllan served as the stable rock to round out the rougher edges of his team. A classic tank with a specialization in defensive abilities, nothing in his kit was flashy or demanded attention.

Edithe was next. Human, female, caster-type with lightning affinity skills. Technically she was the group's sub-leader—the opposite of Dyllan, with her skills being loud and flashy. A glass cannon to the wall of muscled steel. Thankfully, her mana affinity didn't affect her personality. Lightning types were often a hot-headed bunch.

Levin was the file beneath hers, and it was nearly twice as long. An unusual mana affinity. It wasn't uncommon to find a rogue that had poison-aspected mana. Not even shadow-aspected rogues won out on which type of rogue was the most common. Levin was a bit different. A sub-type of poison, he used acid-based skills. His file was padded with minor incidents that marred his record. Once again, not unusual for any rogue archetype adventurer. He did have a special mark on his record, indicating that the crown was taking an interest in the man. They'll probably approach him sometime around the mid-second tier if he continues to grow without accident.

The last file was Spencer's. Human, male, Enhancer-type utility. Light affinity, with a spread between defensive barriers and physical enhancement skills. The only downside to the man's kit was that his skills were almost entirely chant-based activation. While the skills themselves tended to last longer durations than other skills of the type, the activation speed was abysmally slow in comparison. And in the adventuring life, or on the battlefield, every second was precious. Still, even if his skills demanded more preparation and caution, he was extremely useful to the group. If it weren't for his reclusive and introverted personality, he'd have found plenty of offers from other teams.

Putting the folder to the side, Brelten grabbed the ones marked with green and pulled out three stacks of papers. It was the files containing information on the elven brothers. A three-person adventuring team consisted of three brothers who spent the last six months in Edolus running the Emberlake Dungeon.

Petraeus, the oldest brother, was the team leader. Caster and utility equally. Mud-based skills with earth and water skills. Sadly, he would only ever stay mortal.

Being an adventurer attracted a particular type of people. Usually, those born with limited slots would avoid the adventuring life and find skills more appropriate for gentler living. Achieving tier three was something less than four percent of people did. It either took decades upon decades of careful and slow meditation or a couple of decades spent living a life on a dagger's edge. That or you had the backing of a wealthy and powerful patron to propel you forward.

Petraeus would most likely achieve tier two and spend the rest of his life at the peak of the tier. It would take an extreme set of circumstances and luck to ever break beyond that barrier.

The same could be said for the second oldest brother, Xertalus. Another warrior type that showed decent combat capabilities but was limited by a low slot threshold. Marked with a natural ability to duel wield, his axes were deadly for his tier. The combination of water and ice skills added an edge to his fighting style while also meshing well with Petraeus' skills.

And the final brother, Matias. The youngest of the three and certainly the most protected of the brothers. Whether or not his being an archer was due to natural talent or a side effect of his brother's wanting to protect him was unknown. While his wind-aspected skills lacked firepower that other mana types could display, he provided range and scouting support for Xertalus. The trio covered all fields of combat and would be helpful in all but a few situations. The only issue noted on his file was if he would hold himself back for his brothers. Unlike his older brothers, he was born with at least eight slots. If they succeeded in completing the rift, the distance between the trio's capabilities would only grow wider.

Brelten put the three files next to the other four and stared at the last folder. Unlike the others, the last folder had a red dot and was marked with two black stripes. He already knew why the black stripes were there. Even if the guild usually preferred to keep a healthy distance between adventurers and their past, they still needed to keep records and information on them. And the higher the adventurer grew in terms of ranks in the guild, the larger their file was in the guild records. Someone like Brelten had practically his entire career written down somewhere in the guild archives. Doubly so as someone who worked for the guild directly. His own file was locked behind a four-striped clearance to which only the guild head in Calbratha had open access. Locked and sealed to only a very select few individuals.

Which made the fact that a lone tier one team had a folder marked with black stripes a telling case. When Talon arrived at Edolus, he looked into their backgrounds once they registered themselves in the guild hall. Outside of a few warnings about problematic behavior, they were like any other team of hot-heads. They were talented but held back by scathing personalities that led to arguments and fights due to their arrogant and generally abrasive attitudes.

An entire group of beastkins were common and not strange to see. While here in the eastern continent, speciesm was a rare concept. That didn't mean stereotypes and favoritism didn't exist; rather, it meant that one would be hard-pressed to find a denial of services or shunning due to one's name on their status screen. Being made of four feline beastkins and one avian beastkin, Talon still fell into the norm of an adventuring team composition. What, unfortunately, highlighted the group was the pride and superiority that most feline beastkins displayed. It was made all the worse by the fact that Caldur, their team leader, was the son of an infamous warlord amongst the beast tribes. It was akin to being raised a noble in the kingdom. Being raised as better than the common folk was almost ingrained into him.

Out of the group, the two shortest files were the files of Retas and Setar, the twins. They were nearly henchmen to the other members of the group. Utterly loyal to their leader, they were blades to be wielded and nothing more. While they displayed ferocity in combat, their disregard for any defensive skills or maneuvers made them a one-trick pony. They were deadly and effective when you needed raw aggression to throw at a problem, but they were hopelessly inept at complicated strategies.

The third largest file was on Melena. The only female in the group, she viewed herself as the team's sub-leader. Her file was the most filled with records of fights and misdemeanors. After a particular incident with another guild team involving the destruction of a civilian's store, she was put under a secret psych evaluation from the guild. Beyond moderate anger issues, she suffers from an inferiority complex stemming from a lack of reciprocated feelings from Caldur. Her combat prowess was noted as high, with a rare offensive usage of light-aspected skills. Which, sadly, made her marked for further scrutiny in the future due to her volatile nature. It wouldn't be the first nor last time the guild had to crack down on problem adventurers who liked to throw explosive powers.

Caldur was the second largest file. Male, beastkin, Melee combatant who used his shadow affinity to position himself around the battlefield. He was noted to fall under the heavy swordsman archetype, with his skill set used as an enhancement to swordsmanship to provide added penetrative power and increased versatility in ranged options. Outside of his abrasive personality, he had a commanding presence that added to his ability to serve as a team leader in most situations. The natural proclivity to treat those weaker than him in combat as inherently inferior in every way held him back. If he manages to continue the speed at which he flew through the first tier, it was suggested he be put under the mentorship of a tier three swordsman from the Calbratha.

"It'd probably be Nero. That arsehole would find some twisted pleasure in beating the hardheadedness out of him," Brelten whispered out loud.

With a sigh, he pulled out a steaming fresh cup of tea from his storage and relaxed for a moment. The last file of the group, the one that gave the folder its black stripes, was the file on Grimald. The outlier of the adventuring team known as Talon. An active adventurer with a slave brand etched across their soul.

While the guild maintained a neutral stance amongst the different kingdoms and sovereignties of Inoria, there were a few hard rules. Rules that no matter what, the guild would take legal action into its own hands no matter how influential the political party was. One of those rules was the complete intolerance of slave brands. Any adventurer caught being the owner, master, creator, or participant of a soul brand that enslaved a fellow adventurer in any way would be terminated immediately.

Initially, the first suggestive blip of a problem appeared during the registration of Grimald for his tier. After an intense investigation, it was confirmed that he was under the influence of such a brand. After some time, it was confirmed that not only did the rest of Talon not use the brand to command or control their team member, but they didn't even know of its existence. If any evidence was found that proved otherwise, there would have been a figurative witch-hunt amongst the guild.

Due to the brand itself, the guild was unable to question Grimald about its existence. When suggested the option to wait and bring in a specialist who could have helped, the guild affiliate was brushed off and dismissed. A second inquiry was prompted that resulted in the same reply. After determining that the brand was not being used in a malicious way against the beastkin, the guild decided to drop the active issue and wait. If, at any point in the future, Grimald showed signs of distress or asked for help against the soul brand, the guild would help set up a meeting with the specialist.

It was a grey area in the records for the guild. While they had to keep a hands-off approach if the person didn't want or refused help, it was still an illegal subject that couldn't be one hundred percent ignored.

Picking up his cup of tea, Brelten tossed the folders back into his storage and stood up. He figured a good walk around camp would save him from the darkened mood that crept up. There was a good chance the kids would still be eating dinner at this time. Barely a year, and they were already on their way to the mid-ranks of tier two! It would make him a lousy uncle if he didn't use their short time together to dote on and bother them.

As he stepped out of the cabin, he found one of the town guards they hired standing vigil next to his cabin door. The young man must have been dozing off because it took him a few slow blinks to recognize the guild master standing in front of him.

The guard quickly saluted and mashed their hand hard on their metal helmet. "Sir! I apologize, sir. I wasn't paying attention," he shouted quickly.

Brelten chuckled at the display and put one of his large hands on the man's shoulder. "At ease, young man. With the rift portal closed, and the amount of patrolling done around the area, I doubt we'll have any problems tonight. Take the rest of the evening off. I'm going to be spending most of tonight outside my cabin," he told the man. The guard gave another salute in reply before booking it as fast as possible to the canteen.

He could only shake his head at the display. The man would undoubtedly spend the rest of the evening nursing a bottle close to his chest. With the guard taken care of, he looked around the rest of the campsite. Adventurers littered the area, using the temporary base at the rift to explore the Yidelwoods. A small smattering of town guards was seen patrolling the area, some standing silent vigil in their duties, others conversing with the adventurers.

In truth, the guards were unneeded. With himself here and the presence of Theodore's team, the only threat around here was eating your food too fast and choking. But, they were hired as a show of peace and cooperation with the guards. Even out here in a frontier town, politics and social games tainted the people of the land. Still, it cost nothing to have the guards here, so he wouldn't complain.

As he made his way through the camp, he received sloppy salutes or nods of acknowledgment. His aura was restrained, but he allowed it to leak out enough for others to notice him before he approached. The role of a guild master meant there was an expected level of respect required of the position. So, he allowed his aura to be commanding but not smothering across the camp.

Somewhere near the canteen, a campfire was set. Five individuals and an enormous bear lounged around as a large pot of stew bubbled over the fire. They knew he was approaching, so it was no surprise when they all turned to face him when he got within hearing distance.

Celenae waved him over and conjured a chair from her storage. "Uncle Brelten? If you're here for some stew, it'll be done in a dozen minutes or so," she offered with a smile on her face.

Inwardly he couldn't help but smile. Even if she was a grown woman and experienced adventurer, in his eyes, she was still the cute little elven girl that used to barge into his study demanding he grow pretty flowers.

He sat down in the chair and relaxed. The crackling of the fire was almost drowned out by the loud snoring coming from the bear. "That's fine, Celenae. I'm still worried about the team in the rift, so spending time with you guys would help alleviate my mind. And besides, I taught you how to cook that stew, so I know it'll taste good."

"You may have taught her how to cook it, but we improved the recipe! These emberboars have a nice spice to their meat. They make a perfect addition to the stew," Theodore added. The man in question had on a ridiculous-looking white hat that slumped to the side. Combined with the flower-embroidered apron, he made for an absurd sight with his large, six-foot-four frame.

"I can't wait to taste it then. If the rift takes long enough, I treat you to the version I made with some of the beasts around here. The silverfish native to these rivers make for an excellent source of protein. They taste even better if you char the outsides a little," Brelten replied.

His words brought exciting looks to the faces of the people around him. Even Isaac, lurking in the background out of sight, was smiling at the thought of tasting Brelten's cooking. To them, they couldn't get more nostalgic than tasting a campfire dinner made by their uncle.

The smiles disappeared when a thrum of energy rippled through the air. All eyes turned toward the origin of the pulse. "Was that the rift?" Celenae muttered.

By now, everyone was on their feet and had their weapons drawn. Even Arturous was up and had his fur bristled. None of them were strangers to the energy signature of rifts, but something was off. Whatever that pulse of energy was, it was different from what they knew.

"Somethings wrong. That felt volatile," Isaac said.

"Everyone on your guard. Even if it turns out to be nothing, we'll be prepared," Brelten commanded.

No one questioned him, even if Theodore was the group's leader. A lifetime spent training under the man sowed bone-deep reflexes into them. They long ago learned to trust and listen to whatever Brelten said.

Before they could set off for the rift, another pulse spread out. This time the energy washed over them and clung tightly. It felt angry and destructive, a wash of pink that flashed scarlet. The energy pulsed in waves that attacked their skin like pins and needles, bringing a faint smell of blood into the air.

None of them were damaged by the energy. It was more bark than bite in terms of actual danger. By the time the energy built up, the pulsing had stopped. Like a popped bubble, a final wash of energy flickered in and out of existence.

The vacuum of silence left in the aftermath was broken by a body of some creature popping into existence next to the fire. Within less of a heartbeat, the night was lit up by mana and weapons pointed at the object.

Only a loud groan of pain made Brelten examine the body harder. "Weapons down! That's one of the adventurers!" he called out.

They lowered the weapons but maintained them pointed in the person's general direction. When he got closer, Theodore and Celenae stepped closer. Arturous' fur started to glow until the area was bathed in golden light. The light helped expose just how damaged the person on the ground was.

It was Dyllan, but his armour was gone, and his entire body was being barely held together. Massive holes were drilled into his chest, and large chunks of flesh were blackened and missing from his limbs. Blood continued to gush out at an alarming rate while he struggled to breathe.

"Theodore! Help me! Isaac, Eodyne, you're the fastest. Go scout the woods for others. Bring them here as quickly as possible. We don't have time to waste if they are all like this," Brelten commanded.

Theodore activated one of his skills, and his body was bathed in golden swirls that emitted a small calming effect. Dyllan immediately started relaxing as the pain disappeared. While Theodore knelt closer to Dyllan, Brelten began using his nature manipulation skill to create a table underneath the man. As he was raised in the air and off the ground, he summoned satchels of healing potions and medical supplies. With the extent of the man's injuries, the best and only way to apply the potion was to pour it directly.

Celenae didn't need any prompting on his part as she started to help pack some of the holes in his chest with towels so the potion wouldn't leak out. Igas had sprinted off to the rift site to check out the status of the portal. It took a few minutes of carefully applying high-level potions till Dyllan stabilized.

"What do you think happened to him? I've never felt a rift do that before," Celenae asked.

Brelten took a step back and scanned the woods. In the distance, Igas was seen commanding groups of people, sending them off to help somewhere in the camp.

"I don't know. A rift doesn't send out people like this if they fail. This means they won somehow, but I'm not sure why he came out as if he spent time being chewed on by a monster. Maybe they won but had problems getting into the exit portal. I don't know, and I won't know until I can question one of them," he answered tiredly. "I can only hope that Isaac and Eodyne find the others."

"That energy felt vile. It attacked us like a rabid animal. And that smell. There's no mistaking that. That was blood. As far as I know, rift energy doesn't usually smell like blood," Theodore added.

Nobody had a reply to his comment. Arturous growled in concern at the somber mood and muzzled Theodore. He put a comforting hand on his snout while staring at Dyllan's resting form.

Brelten felt him before he saw him and turned his head to his right. Out of the shadow of a tree, Isaac stepped out. With a shake of his head, he frowned at the guild master.

"We've found eight others so far. Four were injured and bleeding out as badly as this guy was. Eodyne and Igas are bringing them here as safely as they can," Isaac reported.

"The other four?" Brelten asked.

"Dead before we got to them. All but one were already corpses before they hit the ground. The other, an elf, died in my arms. Couldn't even get a potion out in time."

Gods damn it all.