Touch of Fate

"The Adventurer's Guild?" The brown haired woman at the inn's front desk asked blankly before turning towards her coworker. "Did we have something like that here?"

The young man was about to answer, denial clear in his body posture, when he suddenly hesitated. "No...wait, wasn't there a branch down on the second level?"

"Are you sure? I feel like I would remember it if we had an Adventurer's Guild in town."

The man shook his head. "No, I'm sure, because I remember asking about it when I was working at that tannery. I thought it was weird that so many heavily armed people were always hanging around, but my boss at the time said they were just adventurer's waiting for work."

"Well, you have a couple of dungeons in the area," Mike commented, breaking into the exchange, "aren't they in charge of managing them?"

"Nah, that's all handled by the White Lions." The young man replied dismissively. "Ah, you're not from around here, so you probably wouldn't know. The Lions are kind of like the guards you find in other cities, except that they are also the army, and the navy, and the tax collectors."

While he was counting off on his fingers, the woman chimed in. "Oh don't forget that they manage the hospitals too."

"Right, and the hospitals."

"Okay...but you do know of a guild branch here?"

The young man nodded. "I do. Here, let me find a city map."

He moved into one of the back offices, and Mike heard him rustling around for a few seconds before he yelled. "Kara, do we still have those pamphlets for the city history festival?"

The woman, evidently named Kara replied. "I think we tossed those a couple of weeks ago, but try the junk drawer in the second desk. I think Gary keeps spare copies of all the leaflets there until it gets too full."

"Hold on a second." He shouted back. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a large crash. "Got it!"

He remerged, covered in dust, with a wrinkled piece of paper clenched in one hand. "Here you go. Sorry about the tears. It was the best I could manage given the circumstances."

Mike nodded his thanks, not wanting to know, and spread the pamphlet on the counter. Emblazoned at the top was 'Gildusi Tricentennial History Festival.' On one side was a detailed, if slightly cartoonish map of the city, with major landmarks and historical sites labeled and described with short blocks of text. The other side was given over to a large and extensive timeline detailing important events that had occurred in the city over the last three hundred years.

A casual glance was all that was required for Mike to recognize the propagandistic nature of the pamphlet, with the current regime appearing to be the beacon of civilization after centuries of barbarity. Based on the information contained within, Gildusi was ruled by a group known as the College of Worthies, a collection of the wealthiest and most successful individuals in the city. He wasn't sure, but he figured that they were a bit like an oligarchy with the trappings of a mildly benevolent dictatorship thrown into the mix.

[While the quality of the information is probably suspect, I guess the map should at least prove somewhat useful.] He thought before glancing over at the receptionist. "So where did you see this guild branch?"

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"I am beginning to suspect that the Adventurer's Guild might not be that well liked in these parts." Mike muttered to Audra as he observed the dilapidated and depressing building from across the street. His familiar responded with a disinterested yawn before ducking her head back into his pocket, evidently having seen enough.

Located on the second level of the city, between a meat processing plant and some kind of fish warehouse, the Gildusi Adventurer's Guild branch was a sad, two-storied building that looked to have long passed its prime. To make matters worse, there were a number of surly looking adventurers loitering around the premise, some of which even appeared to be drinking and gambling in the streets. If Mike didn't know any better, he would have thought that he'd wandered into a crime-ridden slum.

[Well, I guess I should at least report my relocation. I don't think I'll be able to pick up any decent requests here…]

He started walking in the direction of the doorway, quickly garnering attention from the bunch of hooligan-looking adventurers hanging out in front of the building. A few of them even began to stand up with the obvious intention of trying to interfere with him, but one member of the crew hurriedly stopped them.

The small, mousey-looking woman stood out amongst the crowd of rough and violent adventurers, but they obviously treated her with a large amount of respect. Or at least they seemed to be taking her words seriously.

He couldn't hear what she was saying, but the way she kept glancing over in his direction with something approaching abject terror on her face seemed to indicate that she either knew who he was, or had some means of identifying him on sight. In either case, leaving her alone might become an issue.

As such, he started with using Appraise.

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Salubrious Wren

Age: 25

Race: Human

Class: Fen Shaman

Title: Survivor

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[She's a lot older than she looks, and why does that name sound familiar?]

Knowing that the question would bother him unless he got an answer, he started walking in her direction with the intention of calling out to her. This was apparently the exact opposite of what she wanted, however, because as soon as she saw him heading her way, she let loose a little squeak and began sprinting away from him as fast as she could.

[Yeah, that's not suspicious.] He thought to himself before casually using an Air Magic assisted jump to land in front of her as she tried to escape through a nearby alley.

"Hold on a sec..." He started, only to trail off as she suffered one of the most horrifically unlucky crashes he'd ever seen.

She tried to stop, but ended up sliding on a patch of mud, tripping over a small pile of broken crates located against the side of the meat processing plant, and careening head-over-heels into something that looked a bit like a dumpster.

Judging from the smell and the gore-spattered chute located above it, the large wooden box was meant to store unused animal parts and waste products meant for disposal.

He stared at the tragedy for a few seconds, at a loss at the sudden onset of bad luck, before moving over and helping her out of the rancid morass.

"Are you okay? That was quite the...Phew, that is disgusting…" He had to cover his nose. Even with his Physiological Resistance skill, it was hard to overcome the sheer potency of the smell.

[Good lord. It's like a dirty diaper full of rotting meat that's been left out in the sun for a few days.]

Gasping for air, the woman scrambled out of the dumpster, fell onto the ground, and crawled for a few meters before spinning around and fixing a terrified look on him. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Please don't kill me! I didn't have any choice! They forced me to work for them!"

[...What?]

"Slow down...Or rather, calm down. I have no intention of harming you in any way. In fact, I was only going to come talk to you because it seemed like you knew me. If I was aware of how scared you were, I would have left you alone."

"They didn't even pay me that well...wait, what?" She asked, sounding a little confused. "You aren't here to get revenge on me for the role I played during the war?"

"Look, if you are talking about the war in Almir from a little while ago, the only ones I actually held a grudge against are now dead...or are at least presumed dead. Honestly, while you seem familiar, I can't really remember where I've seen you before. I only ended up chasing you because you were acting so suspiciously."

"...Eh?"

Anything further was interrupted as a small army of adventurers poured into the alley, weapons at the ready.

"What in the hells did you do to Wren, you bastard?!" A scarred and muscular guy yelled. Not waiting for a reply, he and several of the leading adventurers roared battle cries and charged in his direction, full of righteous anger.

[I guess this does look pretty bad from the outside.] Mike thought while considering his options. There he was, standing over the prone figure of the woman he'd just chased into the alley, and she was covered in bloody offal, looking for all intents and purposes like the victim of some brutal murder. He couldn't really blame them for thinking the worst, but he had no intention of humoring them either.

With a sigh, he converted the ground under them into waist deep quicksand, causing the majority to sink almost immediately. A few of the quicker acting ones at the rear of the crowd were able to jump back in time to avoid being swallowed, but that still left them at the far end of the swampy patch of half-buried adventurers.

"Earth Magic!" Someone called. "Are there any Earth Mages here?! We need a counter!"

A panicked commotion began, interspersed with less than helpful yells of such things as, "I can use a bit of Air Magic, maybe I can dry the sand with it."

"You idiot, then we'd just be trapped!"

"Maybe I can get my grappling hook on the roof, and pull myself out."

"For the love of the gods, if you put another hole in the guild roof, the guildmaster is going to turn you inside out."

"I know an Earth Mage that lives nearby. He even owes me a favor. If someone can take a message to him, we might be able to get out of this mess."

Mike looked over the chaotic bunch for a few seconds, unsure exactly how he should feel about the situation. Finally he glanced over at the filth covered woman. "Would you mind calming them down a bit. If this goes on much longer, I think someone's going to get hurt."

She blinked and then nodded. "R-Right. I'll get right on it."

Getting up unsteadily, she walked over to stand next to him, bringing with her some of the odor that was still clinging to her. He had to hold his breath while she started talking.

"It's alright everyone, I'm alright. I just fell into the plant's slop box. Everyone just calm down. This is a big misunderstanding."

The crowd of adventurers quieted down for a few seconds, before one of them yelled. "Why were ya so scared, Wren? Don't ya know we would have protected ya from this scrawny bugger?"

Wren glanced over at Mike a bit fearfully, before answering. "Guys...don't you know who this is?"

"Some asshole?" A voice called out, earning a round of laughter from the crowd.

[I guess they really are adventurers. I can't think of anyone else who'd be stupid enough to insult someone who just immobilized the lot of them without any difficulty.]

The woman next to him shrank back as if she expected him to lash out at her. When he merely glanced briefly in her direction, she cleared her throat and started speaking. "Ahem...guys he's-"

"Michael Rasmussen," A voice suddenly interrupted her. "Also known as the Dragonknight Erasmus and the Hero of Almir. He is best known for his achievements during the most recent war on the Central Continent, where he single handedly crushed the Tennundian invasion, defeated the abomination let loose by their forces, slew the Tier 4 lich Kultanis, and in doing so, saved the entire continent from destruction at the hands of the undead."

Mike turned to look at the newcomer, who was approaching them from the other end of the alley. The thin, almost sickly looking man was walking with the assistance of a simple staff, but even despite his infirmities, it was clear from the way he carried himself that he was more than he appeared.

Out of habit, he used Appraise.

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Torentio Hagenthi

Age: 54

Race: Human

Class: High Arcanist

Title: Guildmaster

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"On top of all that," Torentio continued after taking up a spot to the left of Wren, "He is the youngest Tier 4 Mage in recorded history, making him the most powerful person to have ever visited our humble guild branch. And yet you fools have done everything you can to try and make an enemy of him."

There were a few moments of silence as the realization slowly dawned on the muscleheaded group, and Mike could practically watch as they began to turn blue.

Finally, one of the more outspoken members of the group voiced their collective misgivings in a succinct and poignant way.

"...Well shit."