I have no excuses other than life hit me like Truck-kun.

"Are you sure he's doing alright, Master?"

The old man sighed. Despite his retired status, the other guild members still called him by his former title. Then again, he still thought of Precht as his Master, so there was no helping that, he supposed. "Mystogan's doing fine for now."

Loke looked unconvinced by Makarov's reassurance. "Are you sure? He went down pretty hard last night. Saw the whole thing."

Given how pallid Loke himself looked at the moment, he didn't really have the right to criticize. Likely egged into drinking way too much to impress his companions the night before.

"He'll be taking a couple of days to recover, but then he'll be back," Makarov told him.

The ring mage made a face. "Are you sure he's okay?"

"Yes." Perhaps not mentally. But physically, he would recover.

"Well… alright then." Letting out a yawn, he turned to leave. "Guess I'll go see if Cana or Gray need bailing out this morning," he muttered as he trudged out of the guild hall.

Stretching his arms above his head, Makarov soon felt the sweet release of pressure as his joints popped. Lowering his arms, he lightly thumped one fist against his lower back. It was starting to twinge already, blast it all. The former guild master let out another, heavier sigh.

Although one of the more unusual inquirers, Loke was far, far from the first of the day, and Makarov was starting to weary of stating the same answer every ten minutes. If it weren't for the massive hangovers staggering both their arrivals and bodies, the majority of the guild members would have handled the information dispersal on their own. But then again, the concern the guild members were showing towards Mystogan was heartening.

…Perhaps it would be considered an insult to the man himself, however. It would be for most of the S-Class mages that Fairy Tail had produced over the last century. It wasn't exactly flattering to find out that your peers didn't believe you could take care of yourself. Makarov himself, despite his body and the world growing increasingly more difficult to live in, would rather go down swinging than accept being pitied.

Makarov was beginning to think he'd made a grave mistake.

Seeing Mystogan struggle had admittedly been amusing for a while. In a vindicating sort of way. Most of the members of Fairy Tail were uninterested in how the guild ran, so long as it did. Even then, the only person actively showing interest at all these days was Laxus - for all the wrong reasons. Laxus seemed to have his sights set on the power that came with the position and not the administrative side that came part and parcel with it. Other guilds admittedly had much better internal infrastructure as well - Fairy Tail had always prioritized freedom for its members and had neither the mandatory rotating duty roster nor the full-time staff that other guilds of similar size possessed. Mavis had never really given thought to the guild growing beyond what the core four members could handle in terms of administration, but Fairy Tail didn't even have that many staff members anymore. During Precht's tenure, there had been a small staff, but they had all retired long before Precht himself had. The old members of Makarov's team had helped out for a few years when he'd first become guild master and before they left the guild, but Makarov hadn't really gotten much help since then. For a long time, it had just been Makarov - with the addition of Mirajane the past two years - running things. Now it was Mystogan and Mirajane. It was honestly about time someone else acknowledged just how much hard work went into keeping the guild running.

But now, with Mystogan having gotten himself placed in the care of Porlyusica not once, but twice already… Makarov was starting to reconsider his hasty decision to pass on the guild without training or preparing his successor. It was becoming abundantly clear that Mystogan had no idea what he was doing. Throwing him into the deep end to teach him to swim had only resulted in Mystogan nearly drowning. Max had even expressed concern the day before that the new guild master didn't seem to know what a checkbook was. Mystogan's lack of common knowledge was far more dire than Makarov had assumed. Out of all the possible candidates for guild master, Mystogan was by far the least prepared. He had honestly hoped that it would bring the reclusive mage closer to his guildmates, giving him a chance to open up after all these years. Shine a spotlight on him, and he would gleam. Instead, Mystogan's assumed name proved a little too apt - the man disappearing the moment sunlight sought to illuminate him.

Frustrated, Makarov idly observed the ongoing cleaning efforts (spearheaded by a far too enthusiastic Max) from his bartop perch. He honestly wouldn't blame Mystogan if the youngster decided to just run away from it all while he had the opportunity. The boy really did have a lot of responsibility on his shoulders already. The Anima portals had been slowly tapering off over the years, but that only seemed to heighten Mystogan's anxiety and vigilance about them.

Makarov resolved to set aside more time for the boy, to teach him properly all that needed to be handled within the guild. There were guild master meetings coming up that he would need to be made aware of as well. It was time to stop being petty, and start teaching Mystogan what he needed to learn. Regardless of whether he stayed or left, Mystogan should hopefully find the lessons useful nonetheless. It was about all he could leave to the teenager, his child.

He would try to be a parent, instead of a bully.

"Master."

Lost in thought, Makarov had failed to notice the approach of another of his wayward children. Looking up at her, he smiled warmly at his stern, adorable red-haired daughter. "Erza. Good morning."

She nodded curtly at him. "Good morning to you as well."

Ah, always so abrupt this one. Makarov wondered if he would have been as petty to this child if she had been the one to walk through the guild first that day.

…He did not have to dwell on the thought long, as he began to recall the incident that had led to this whole debacle in the first place.

"What can I help you with this fine morning?" he instead addressed the teenager, seeing as she had yet to move away. He had a sinking feeling that she was about to ask a very familiar question…

"How is Mystogan?"

Yup, there it was. The person he was most dreading the reaction of.

"Porlyusica is taking good care of him. Should be right as rain in a couple of days," Makarov said, not elaborating further and hoping against hope that she would pick up from his tone to drop the topic.

She nodded, making a noise of affirmation. "Good to hear. I was hoping he might be up for visitors?"

Dammit. "I'm afraid not. You know Porlyusica's policy about those." Namely that she would attack on sight with her broom. A few well placed swats usually got her point across and inspired caution in would-be interlopers.

"Surely one or two visitors should be fine, provided we don't overcrowd him."

Unfortunately, Erza was right up there with Natsu when it came to hard-headedness. If Mystogan was a precision instrument, then Erza would be a battering ram. The self-assurance in her words was equal parts endearing and distressing. Makarov supposed that he should count himself lucky that she had decided to ask him first instead of going directly over there herself. There was no telling the chaos that would ensue if she had. Mystogan might very well have combusted from the stress.

"No, it would be better for him to rest without interruptions." When she frowned, Makarov tacked on, "A concussion requires peace and quiet to heal properly. Visitors could set his healing back."

Visibly displeased, Erza nodded in acquiescence.

Makarov allowed himself to relax. Thank goodness. The worst had passed.

"Master… there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

…Or maybe the worst was yet to come.

He smiled benignly up at her. "What is it?"

The S-Class mage shifted her weight, uncharacteristically uneasy. It had been a long time since Makarov had seen her this perturbed - not since her first couple of years at the guild, in fact. "I was wondering… why I was not allowed to assist Mystogan last night." Erza swallowed thickly. "I'd had less to drink than Mickey, and I have my Flight Armor's speed boost, and I was more than capable of carrying him-"

Gods, his stomach hurt.

Makarov's smile fell, and he closed his eyes as Erza began to ramble. How on Earthland was he supposed to reply? He couldn't break Mystogan's confidence on top of all this. And finding out about an alternate Jellal, one that cared about her enough to hide himself from her to avoid hurting her like the one she had known? That would hurt Erza beyond measure.

"...Did I… Did I do something to make Mystogan hate me…?" she asked, snapping Makarov violently out of his reverie.

"No, no! Nothing of the sort!" Makarov quickly reassured her. In fact, he cared a bit too much.

Her frown deepened, hurt swimming in her eyes. "I'm not oblivious. I know he avoids me."

"He avoids everyone," Makarov pointed out.

Erza flinched. "I know, but… it seems like he avoids me more than the others. He at least talks to Mira and Cana. He couldn't even bring himself to speak to me when I met with him earlier."

Makarov wanted to put his head in his hands. 'Mystogan, my boy…' There were no words to describe the emotion he was feeling at that moment.

"I can assure you that he doesn't hate you," Makarov said aloud. "About not speaking to you, well… did you apologize for the mountain incident?"

She froze in place. "Um…" Erza's eyes shifted around as she thought about it. "I… Well… I think … I did…?" The bridge of her nose flushed as red as her hair. "He… did give me the paperwork to do myself."

Nodding sagely, Makarov allowed his body to relax in relief. "He might indeed be still upset about that-" Makarov suddenly did a double-take, shaking his head. "Wait, did you say he's having you do the incident paperwork yourself for that?" At her answering nod, Makarov internally cursed up a storm. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that?!

Maybe Mystogan was wiser than he gave him credit for.

Erza peered at him inquisitively. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, no." Makarov waved his hand in dismissal and coughed slightly. "I was just impressed… I mean, I was just thinking that I would have handled it differently, but this does seem appropriate and it's his ship to run now, besides."

"I see." Erza gave him a firm nod, understanding lighting up her previously downcast eyes. "He is presently upset with me because I have not completed the paperwork he assigned me." She brought her gauntleted fist down onto her other palm. "Once I have finished that, all will be well between us again!"

Makarov's children… were a little dumb, weren't they?

He was spared from having to respond by a flashing light from the other side of the bar. "Ah, if you'll excuse me, Erza. Seems someone is contacting the communication lacrima." Relieved to be done with the awkward conversation, Makarov reached under the bartop and pulled out the orb.

Erza gave him a short bow. "Have a good day, Master."

Activating his end of the magic embedded in the lacrima, a blond man's visage swam into view on the crystal. "Hello there, Jason!" Makarov greeted the Sorcerer Weekly reporter. "Excellent timing, I must say-"

"ERZAAAA!"

The guildhall's doors slammed open, a pink blur streaking across the open space.

"FIGHT MEEE-OOOMPF!"

The blur came to an abrupt halt against Erza's steel coated fist, Natsu's body bending in half from the momentum and his eyes bugging out of his skull and spittle flying. Then, with just as much speed, the dragon slayer's body was launched into the air, his back slamming into the ceiling. Gravity took over and Natsu fell, facefirst, into the floor.

Makarov's jaw agape, he could only watch as Happy flew in the open doors, screaming and crying while circling over Natsu's limp, prone body. "He's deeeeaaad! Erza killed Naaaatsuuu! He's deeeeaaaad! You killed hiiiiim!"

Hooking an arm under the unconscious teenager, Erza casually hoisted him up and onto her shoulder. A worrisome cracking noise accompanied the motion as Natsu's back hit Erza's pauldron. The redhead turned slightly to address the slack-jawed former guild master. "Master, Natsu appears to be ill. I will take him to Porlyusica's for treatment immediately."

Not giving him a chance to respond, she pivoted and strode out the doors, Happy circling above her and yelling that she was a murderer the whole way.

"So coooooool!" Jason shouted from the other side of the lacrima. "I really did call at the right time!"

Makarov smiled wanly at the reporter. Well, the damage was done. There was no stopping Erza now.

He wished his dumb children the best of luck.