I like Mickey Chickentiger too much to not include her in most everything I write, lmao. I think I might start including more of the unloved side characters in this fic.

To Mystogan's relief, he located Makarov quickly once he'd emerged from the hallway. Ignoring the stares he was sure to garner, Mystogan clamped down on his trepidation and approached the now retired guild master where he sat at the bar. "Makarov," he addressed him, dropping the "Guild Master" title in the hopes of garnering more good will from the often cranky old man.

The old man's face crinkled with a delighted smile as he swiveled on the bar stool to face Mystogan. "Ah, excellent timing, my boy! I was just thinking that we should inform everyone about the change in leadership. But I must say that it's so nice to see you walking out into the open like this." Mystogan did not need that reminder, as he was becoming aware of more and more eyes drifting towards the pair, and the conversations in the guild hall quieting down. Continuing and seemingly oblivious to the attention they were getting, Makarov went on, "I didn't even need to come and get you! Which I must say is quite a relief." He patted his knees. "These old joints aren't what they used to be, and I'm glad I won't have to climb those stairs every day anymore."

"I'm… happy that it's more convenient for you," Mystogan replied somewhat awkwardly. It had honestly never occurred to him that Makarov was getting old, even as he could see it happening. The old man had always seemed much larger than life and unnaturally spry, so it was easy to forget that he was in his eighties. "But can we please hold off on the announcement? I need to talk to you first."

Makarov's smile didn't dim in the slightest. "I'm not taking the job back. You can't make me."

A sigh escaped Mystogan's chest. "No, that's not…"

"Oh, so you are taking it then? Excellent! Let's make the announcement right now." As he made to hop up onto the bar, Mystogan's arms darted out and caught the elderly man around the waist. "What are you doing, boy?! Let me down!" He kicked his legs ineffectually, like a small child.

"I'm sorry," Mystogan apologized, setting him back down on the bar stool. "But please… please give me the letter before we do that." Makarov opened his mouth to protest, only for Mystogan to hurriedly cut him off. "I'm not asking you to rescind your decision!" Not at that precise moment, at least. "I just want to talk to you about it first. Before it becomes official. So can you please not send the letter just yet."

"No can do."

Mystogan had not expected such an abrupt denial. At worst, he'd anticipated a lecture about responsibilities, but not an outright rejection of his plea. "But why?" he asked, flabbergasted, his mind spinning to come up with a reason for this. "You can't even take the time to hear out my concerns for the guild?"

Shoving a finger up his nose and digging for treasure, Makarov gave him a half shrug. "You're misunderstanding. It's because I don't have the letter anymore."

…What?

It must have shown on his face, because Makarov, finger still embedded deep in his nose, pointed to the woman Mystogan had seen him speaking to earlier. "Mickey volunteered Pi-chan's services to deliver the letter to the post office for me."

The woman in question noticed their attention and gave them a small wave.

"So you're too late. It's already gone."

Mystogan stared numbly at both Makarov and his accomplice. This possibility had not even crossed Mystogan's mind. He'd been worried about Makarov leaving with the letter, but that he could send it without having to leave the building at all was – !

He felt a pat on his arm. Makarov patted his arm again in a comforting manner. "Sorry, my boy. Wish you'd said something before."

"I tried!" he hissed, at the end of his patience. "You didn't listen to me!"

The old man ignored him and clambered up onto the bar. "Well, now that that's taken care of, time for the announcement."

It was at that point that Mystogan became keenly aware of the fact that the little remaining conversation in the guild hall had tapered off completely and that the eyes of every present guild member were trained on him and Makarov. Said eyes were all the size of saucers (except in Elfman's case, where instead it was dinner plates) as they stared unblinkingly. Makarov tapped his heel against the bar counter to superfluously call everyone to attention.

He cleared his throat. "Ahem!" Which then turned into a minor coughing fit as he choked on his own phlegm. It was awkward few moments as the old man hacked and coughed up on his makeshift stage and the rest of the guild looked on silently.

Nearby, Macao leaned close to Wakaba. "Maybe giving him some of our toilet wine was a bad call."

Wakaba waved his hand. "Nah, he'll be fine in a minute."

What in the world was toilet wine…? And did Mystogan even want to find out?

Finally, Makarov pulled himself together with a few light taps of his fist to his chest. "Sorry about that." Then he cleared his throat once more, and stood up a little straighter. "I have an announcement to make to you all. After many long years of being this fine guild's master, I have decided to retire. Effective immediately."

That sent hushed whispers throughout the guild, alarm and bewilderment in equal portions.

"What did Natsu do this time?" a flashy man with orange hair asked, green coated arms drapped over the shoulders of two different women.

…Mystogan must have been away from the guild a lot more than he thought. He had no clue who this was, and he hadn't recognized the woman from before either. But it seemed that everyone else was well familiar with him, including Makarov. In fact, there were a lot of unfamiliar faces to him staring up at the bar.

"No, no, Loke," Makarov said, with a slight wave of his hand. "It wasn't Natsu. This has been a decision long in the making, and had absolutely nothing to do with Erza destroying an entire mountain yesterday."

Low whistles resounded through the guild hall, and Mystogan's stomach dropped out of his body entirely. So that was it. That was the reason why he was suddenly in this predicament. It made a whole lot more sense now. A whole mountain? Really, Erza?!

It only just then occurred to him that he was now going to be the one expected to deal with that debacle.

"So what's Mystogan doing here, then?" a guild member shouted to a minor chorus of agreement.

"Ah, yes. About Mystogan. I have appointed him my successor, so you should now address him as Mystogan, the Fourth Guild Master of Fairy Tail. Please give him your utmost respect and do what he tells you."

Dead silence fell over the guild.

Macao slowly turned to face Wakaba. "I could be wrong," he stage whispered, "but maybe brewing alcohol out of the guild toilets was a bad idea after all. 'Cause I think I'm hallucinating now."

Wakaba clinked his mug to Macao's. "I'll drink to that."

Okay so that answered that question and it did not sound sanitary. Now that it looked like he was on this train and it wasn't going to stop and let him off, he was going to have to do something about that probably.

But first he would see if Cana would like some company on her storage room drinking binge. Because he suddenly felt in dire need of one himself. Then again, that would require finding out which key opened the door again. Which Mystogan wasn't especially keen on at the moment.

A sandy-blonde haired man – was his name Max, maybe…? – stood up from his chair suddenly. "…I have to get started on the party planning immediately."

The interruption was the excuse that the rest needed to get up and suddenly swarm him with congratulations and well wishes.

…He changed his mind. It was completely worth dealing with the key if he got to escape this madness.