The Dragonborn Overlord of the New World

by nolalothcaragascint1

[Overlord AU/Canon Divergence. No Ainz or Nazarick] [Slow burn] Guild Master Tiberius of the Sanguine Dragons has spent the last 12 years adventuring throughout the nine worlds of YGGDRASIL. But now the game servers are shutting down. What happens when he inadvertently remains behind during the shut down? How will Tiberius react when finds himself in a New World?

10. Chapter VII

Chapter VII

Strangers in a Strange Land

The dragonoid lay sprawled on an oversized and overstuffed sofa in the main room of his personal quarters. His wings were absent, allowing him to stretch out across the length of the couch – an impossible position were it not for the sofa's plush and accommodating nature. Like his giant pillow of a mattress, the excessively thick cushions molded themselves comfortably around the protrusion of his thick tail base. Tiberius rested his neck and head against the densely padded armrest, allowing his horns to extend over the top, finding a comfortable spot amidst the cushioned surface.

Tiberius' draconic countenance could be aptly described as serene. Despite the presence of scaly features, there was no sign of tension on his face, and his eyes remained closed, giving the impression that he was blissfully asleep. However, the truth was that he was fully aware of the world around him. Thanks to the keen senses granted by his avatar's race, being in a state of heightened awareness was effortless for him.

In the silence of his abode, the soft crackle with occasional pop and hiss of the continual magic flame echoed all the louder. It was an enjoyable and soothing ambiance that helped his troubled thoughts.

Ever since the interrogation of the three prisoners and the rather dismal results thereof, Tiberius had found himself dwelling on the matter.

To have been denied the possibility of gaining valuable intelligence about the Slane Theocracy was enough to greatly irritate the dragonoid. Yet more so was the gamble that he had been forced to take with the second prisoner.

But it was a choice that had to be made.

They had to be certain that Týrnaust's defensive measures had not been breached. Otherwise, it would have been a terrible blow to the safety of all within the mountain if there was some way to circumvent it. Still, it left a bitter taste in Tiberius' mouth.

To think that magic exists here that allows you to booby trap a person's mind like that. If I could understand how it works, might make it easier to counter. But still, it makes me wonder just what else is out there waiting for us.

The dragonoid sighed and slowly his eyelids parted as flame-coloured irises again became visible. Tiberius looked about the room, his gaze soon traveling to the low table nearby and the silver platter resting on its crystal tabletop.

The silver serving dish bore the evidence of the morning's feast, now reduced to mere remnants. Once a large and succulent roast, it was now nothing more than scattered bits of chewy gristle and gnawed bones.

The mere thought of that tender meat, infused with robust flavors of seasoning and oozing savory juices, sent the dragonoid's taste buds into a wild frenzy, causing his mouth to water. Almost instinctively, his muscular tongue extended from the corner of his mouth, embarking on a long journey around his muzzle to the opposite corner, seemingly in search of any lingering taste of the meal. Afterward, he withdrew his tongue and smacked his lips with satisfaction. However, in doing so, he realized that his mouth was now mildly parched.

Tiberius shifted his position on the sofa, stretching his body as he roused himself into an upright posture. His large tail found its place on the cushion beside him. Leaning forward, he extended his arm and securely held a golden goblet in his grasp. Raising it from the tabletop, he brought the rolled rim of the goblet to his lips and carefully tilted it, allowing the liquid contents to trickle out in a controlled manner.

The surprisingly cool fluid collected in the back of his large mouth as he sipped gently from the cup. The sweet flavour of honey washed over his tongue which was followed by the biting burn of the mildly alcoholic beverage.

Tiberius swallowed the liquid, feeling it warm his throat before settling in his belly.

Having emptied the cup, he casually returned it to the tabletop. His gaze drifted lazily over the unwanted leftovers of his breakfast.

A hearty chortle escaped the dragonoid's parted jaws as he reminisced on the first of these scrumptious meals he'd been served. Thinking back on it, he was unable to recollect just what the meal had consisted of. Only that it had been utterly delicious, far outstripping anything he'd eaten during his life on Earth.

However, there was one thing above the recollection of the myriad of flavours that stood out more prominently, and that was just how hungry he had been.

In hindsight, he realized how foolish he had been to overlook something as obvious as his hunger. With a body so large, it was only natural to have an appetite that matched his new physique. Ignoring it for too long had inevitable consequences.

The tray had been brought to Tiberius in the same manner as all others. Delivered to him by members of the ninth floor's caretakers the nymph maidens.

The maiden had approached him with reverence and graciously placed the tray down on the table before him before inquiring if he wanted for anything else. When Tiberius replied in the negative, she accepted his answer with a smile, before she curtseyed and promptly left his quarters.

When he had lifted that lid from the platter, he was nearly overwhelmed by the aromas that wafted up. Saliva welled up in his mouth to the point where he might've been drooling, and his resolve to hold himself back quickly crumbled away.

To say that his table manners were unsightly would have been an understatement.

He devoured the meal voraciously, resembling an animal tearing into its food. Each bite yielded a great mouthful of flavors, coating his tongue as the heady juices dripped from his chin, mingling with saliva. His jaws snapped shut repeatedly as he gulped down each mouthful, driven by an insatiable hunger. The supply of nourishment quickly dwindled as he feasted in a frenzied manner.

In the midst of his ravenous feast, he heard the unmistakable crunch and crack of bones as they splintered in the grip of his powerful jaws. Nothing was going to waste during this meal. When every bit of food had been devoured, the dragonoid resorted to dragging his tongue across the plate, thoroughly scouring the surface even for the tiniest morsel. He refused to let a single drop of that savory meal escape him.

During this period, Tiberius made a discovery about his metabolism – it didn't demand him to eat as frequently as he would if he were still human. However, when hunger did arise, the dragonoid's need for food was substantial, becoming a significant necessity for him.

Thus, the dragonoid chose to embrace a self-imposed exile during mealtimes, seeking solitude as he worked on mastering control over his impulses. Throughout the process of rediscovering his table manners, he encountered two additional complications.

Both issues were relatively minor but revolved around his mouth, requiring attention. It was evident that having a dragon's head posed challenges in certain aspects that were once simple, like wearing a hat. Nevertheless, those matters could be dealt with separately.

The more trivial of the two issues concerned his teeth. Although his mouth was equipped with dagger-like teeth that excelled at slicing through meat, they proved to be utterly inadequate for chewing. He experienced this inconvenience with every meal. Thankfully, the solution was straightforward: the dragonoid simply needed to take small bites, which could then be swallowed whole.

However, solving the next problem required a bit more in the ways of experimentation.

In addition to the difference in tooth structure, the shape of his mouth posed an issue. When he attempted to take a drink by parting his lips, the elongation of his jaws became problematic. Although he possessed surprisingly flexible lips, comparable to his human set, he discovered that when he opened his mouth to drink, only the latter half of his lips created a proper seal. This left enough of a gap, resulting in the spillage of liquid.

He quickly learned this lesson the hard way when taking a drink, and a fair amount of liquid spilled from his jaws, soaking the cloth of his shirt.

Surely, he could have easily solved this dilemma by simply reverting to his human form whenever he wanted to eat. However, he knew that doing so would only serve as a temporary solution and wouldn't address the root of the problem.

The dragonoid did consider the possibility of using the technique exhibited by animals – lowering his head and lapping at his drink with his tongue. However, he quickly realized that this approach wouldn't be suitable if he ever intended to dine in civilized company.

So Tiberius decided that it would be best to find the solution to his problem. Thus began the process of trial and error.

Observing the seepage past his lips, Tiberius believed that drinking quicker might resolve the problem. The dragonoid then opened his jaws, brought a chalice to his lips, and tilted his head back, allowing the liquid to pour into his waiting mouth. Although he managed to gulp down some of the water, it proved to be more than he could handle. As a result, he nearly drowned himself, leading to a coughing fit while unintentionally emptying the rest of the chalice's contents upon himself.

At that moment, Tiberius was rather grateful that none were around to witness his making a fool of himself. He could only what sort of reactions the sightseeing their vaulted leader in such a state would bring out in the NPCs.

Though it wouldn't have really mattered, after all, the shame of it probably would have killed him.

Eventually, after several more attempts, the dragonoid learned to gauge how far he could tilt the cup so that the liquid would flow at a pace that he could manage. In the process, he also discovered a method that would allow him to effortlessly empty an entire pitcher in a single swig. All he needed to do was orient his muzzle skyward and relax his throat, which as he learned closed a flap of muscle to seal off the passage to his lungs. Then all he needed to do was allow gravity to do the work and let the drink flow down his throat to fill his belly.

Expedient but not very dignified.

The dragonoid shifted before rising from the plush sofa leaving a noticeable indentation in the thick cushion. Tiberius stretched, his ears detecting the soft popping sound coming from various joints. Stepping out from between the couch and the crystal-topped table, he made his way across the room.

Stepping into the Victorian-style study, he paused and directed his gaze to the narrow nook at the side of the room. Here his gaze lingered for a time as he watched the guild weapon hover within the alcove. The soft illumination projecting up from beneath did well to highlight the Dragon Staff's finer detailing. Such as the delicate scale etchings that decorated the five-headed dragon which crowned the staff.

As with every time he laid eyes on the gleaming object, he felt the urge to take it into his hand and carry it with him. Yet to do so would be far too risky should anything befall it.

Turning away, he strode around behind the old-fashioned yew wood desk. Reaching out, the dragonoid's scaled hands took hold of the large wingback chair that rested here and drew it back. Once enough space had been created Tiberius moved between the desk and chair before taking a seat. His tail as usual found its usual place draped over the armrest.

Comfortable, Tiberius turned his focus to the papers lying atop the desk.

Extending his arm, he took a rolled parchment in hand and unfurled it to reveal what looked to be a set of plans. Inscribed on this page was a detailed layout for the entirety of the fortress city of E-Rantel.

This map was a recent acquisition, presented to him by the Fifth Floor Guardian. When asked how he had come by this, Koraboros had simply stated that it had been borrowed from the city's archives by one of the Shadow Demons. Not wishing to second-guess the answer, Tiberius had simply accepted it and put it behind him.

Now he sat looking over the plans and in doing so, Tiberius had to admit that whoever it was that created them was meticulous in their work. For it appeared to his eye that nearly every part of the city was well documented. Right down to the location and orientation of the stalls in the marketplace were clearly labeled. There were also numerous eraser marks smeared across the paper while fresh pencil lines were overlaid on older faded lines.

A review of the plans revealed that E-Rantel seemed to follow the same design philosophies as most historical fortress cities.

This meant that the city was divided into a number of separate zones, three zones in this case. Each area was kept separate from the others by a defensive wall. This way in the event of an attack, the defenders could fall back and regroup behind the wall of the next zone to prepare a defense.

Tiberius delved into the city's layout.

The outermost district appeared rather unremarkable. It was sparsely populated and had the fewest structures. This area primarily accommodated the city's guards, who had their barracks, training grounds, stables, and some small warehouses. Moving inward, the middle ring stood out as the largest and most densely populated district among the three. This ward served as the bustling hub for business and housing, accommodating the vast majority of the city's populace. Its streets were lined with various shops leading to numerous open-air plazas and markets scattered throughout the district.

Finally, there was the smallest district, known as the Mayorial District. This area primarily housed different branches of the local government. Interestingly, E-Rantel chose to locate a significant portion of its storage capacity here. Most of the large warehouses were filled with the city's abundant imports and exports. Additionally, there were smaller warehouses available for a fee, offering storage services for merchants and anyone with enough coin. Naturally, due to the valuable contents, this zone was heavily guarded, with regular foot patrols monitoring the roads.

At least if the information contained within the map's accompanying leaflet was correct.

Studying the map, the dragonoid's eyes followed the intricate network of countless streets. He traced the path leading to E-Rantel's main gate and the road cutting through the city with its meandering branches. As he traveled along these pathways visually, his gaze eventually fixated on a small red X inked on the paper. With flame-coloured eyes, he stared intently at the mark before shifting his focus to another X, this time in blue ink, situated a short distance away.

The simplistic nature of these markings belied the importance which they symbolized. The red X marked the location of the local branch of the Adventurer's Guild while its blue twin signified the aptly named Magician's Guild.

Though both were of equal noteworthiness, it was the red marker that drew the dragonoid's focus.

Tiberius rested his head upon his hand, using his forearm as support. As he pondered, his thoughts drifted towards the possibilities that the Adventurer's Guild held and the enticing freedom its members must experience while exploring the world. However, in the midst of these musings, the ever-mounting boredom that seemed to consume his life lately couldn't escape his mind.

Time, which was once such a precious commodity, was now something he possessed in abundance. Thus it was only to be expected that the dragonoid would begin to suffer from boredom.

Secluded within Týrnaust, Tiberius passed his days in monotonous repetition. Although the consultations with the Floor Guardians were no longer a daily affair, they still revolved around the same mundane topics, mostly basic status updates. The once novel experience of journeying through the mountain dungeon had gradually transformed into a dull sense of familiarity.

Naturally, this outcome was foreseeable the longer he resided within the mountain.

Having spent years traversing Týrnaust since the Sanguine Dragons established their guild headquarters there, Tiberius had become intimately acquainted with the place. While some aspects, such as the denizens coming to life and formerly cosmetic features becoming functional, added some excitement, the rest of the mountain dungeon remained unaltered.

Back in YGGDRASIL, Tiberius found himself occupied with the daily responsibilities of running the guild. This entailed managing the guild's finances, assigning quests to members, and strategizing for their next raid. Occasionally, he would engage in different tasks, like negotiating resource trades with other guilds or coordinating timetables to avoid interfering with their farming activities.

During his downtime, Tiberius enjoyed engaging in conversations with his ever-available friends. Together, they would plan guild events, such as member tournaments, and these gatherings helped alleviate the monotony of guild affairs.

Not surprisingly, the role of unofficial Morale Officer for the Sanguine Dragons often fell to Weeping Martyr. It was thanks to him that the guild's special events were organized, complete with their respective prizes. The bandage-covered High Elf, was quite emotional and prone to outbursts, especially when a friend was troubled. However, he proved to be a true and loyal friend, always offering kind words and a helping hand

Such were the happenings that filled the dragonoid's days within YGGDRASIL with good memories.

An irony it was that his virtual life would prove to be far better than his real life. A soul-crushing existence of a corporate officer who demanded a cold and ruthless disposition to make heartless choices. Choices that oftentimes bordered on cruelty that affected the lives of many others.

Near unanimously each of those memories was something rather unpleasant.

But that was all behind him now, that part of his life was over. He was here now, he was Tiberius, the dragonoid ruler of Týrnaust with all the denizens of the mountain dungeon at his beck and call. Here he wanted for nothing.

Confronted with such profound existential questions, Tiberius decided it was wiser to set aside the topic, lest he succumb to anxiety over answers that remained ever elusive.

Instead, he turned his mind toward pondering more about the world beyond the mountain's granite walls. Aside from his brief stint visiting Carne Village, he'd charged others with furthering the exploration of this world. It was as he followed this trail of thought that Tiberius was reminded of his words to Yuliana.

I am not one to let others fight my battles for me.

While he was well used to taking a supervisory role, it didn't mean that he had to be content with it. No, he longed to leave the safety of Týrnaust and get out there. To be on the front lines and see what this world holds for himself.

The dragonoid shifted, leaning back against the chair, he cast a glance at the nearby display case and the trophies it contained.

"I miss the adventure," he let out a despondent sigh, "If only I could get out there and do something."

For the span of a long minute or two, Tiberius merely stared out across the room. But then like a bolt of brilliance, an idea took shape within his mind's eye. It wasn't like he was trapped in the mountain, so who was to say that he couldn't go?

"I mean technically I already did when I went to Carne Village. Granted I got more than I bargained for. But still, I went." The red-orange of his irises seemed to glow as he stared down at the red X on the map. "Yes, that's it. I'll pretend to be an adventurer and join the Adventurer's Guild. What better way to get out there and see the sights? And on the plus side, it will make for a better cover story to tell the Floor Guardians than revealing to them how bored I am."

A plenitude of possibilities streamed into Tiberius' mind and he began to formulate a plan. However, this came to a screeching halt with a sudden knock on the door.

"C-c," the dragonoid coughed, clearing his throat of his surprise, "Come in."

The handle turned, the latch clicked and the door was opened. Through the threshold came two individuals, both natives of Ninth Floor.

Despite standing no taller than her sisters, she exuded a regal beauty that was awe-inspiring. Her features were delicately feminine, befitting royalty, and her long, elf-like ears peeked out from behind her lustrous hair, which shimmered and shifted colours like an ethereal aurora. Her soft lilac eyes fixed upon her seated master with a gentle, captivating gaze.

As a member of the nymph maidens, Sylph adorned herself in the customary vestments worn by Týrnaust's caretakers. She donned a dark purple chiton and a girdle made of golden rope, a distinction from the silver ones worn by her companions. Like her sisters, she wore oiled moccasins on her feet. Adorning her neck was a gold chain, from which a platinum lightning bolt pendant gracefully hung.

Following a step behind was one of her many siblings, the appropriately named Blue, who carried with her an empty serving tray.

Immediately the azure-haired nymph left her sister's side and made her way into the rustic-styled living room. She set the tray she had brought down on the low crystal-topped table and set to work gathering the soiled dishes onto the tray.

Meanwhile, Sylph strode to the opposite side of the room to stand across from the dragonoid seated behind the old Yew desk.

"Is there anything else that we can get for you, my lord? Perhaps a refill of your goblet? Or maybe I can interest you in some dessert?"

Tiberius regarded the tempting offer of more food for a time before shaking his head in the negative.

"Thank you, Sylph, but no. I have had enough for the time being."

The aurora-haired nymph smiled and bowed before she turned and returned to stand at the entryway where she awaited her azure-haired sibling. Who with the serving tray now ladened with its soiled cargo, did not delay and soon rejoined Sylph at the door.

The pair performed a shortened curtsey before Sylph held the door open for her sister to pass. Once Blue had gone through, the lead nymph bowed a final time before exiting her master's quarters. The door shut with its telltale click of the latch.

Free of the presence of others, Tiberius slouched in his chair, his mind turning back to the previous musings.

"If I do go through with this, there's quite a bit I'll have to do first. Like deciding on who'll be going with me since there's no way the Floor Guardians would let me go alone. Especially not Yuliana. She'll probably want to accompany me as she has, but I need her here to look after things. Then…"

Tiberius prattled off several other things that he needed to do before coming to the most important of them all.

"But first, I just need to figure out a way to actually tell the Floor Guardians about my plans."

As the daunting subject lay before him, the dragonoid could only lament the burden.

o – o – o – o

"Oi, Shaun!" the aggravated baritone voice of a man cut through the air, "Wake up boy!"

At the sound of his father's shouts, the red-haired teen bolted upright in his chair. His eyes were wide with surprise and his vision bleary as he looked up at the slightly pudgy face of his father staring down at him.

"Huh?"

"I said get the door."

"Oh, right. Sure thing, Dad."

The lad pushed his chair back from the tall table as he rose to stand. He stretched before turning away and making his way out of the room.

Seeing this, Georg could only shake his head at the boy's obliviousness at times. The boy so often had his head in the clouds that Georg half expected the boy to sprout wings one day and fly away. It was a trait that he must've gotten from his mother.

As the village butcher, something he took up after his father, it was Georg's task to process the various animals brought for consumption. It was a grounded livelihood that did not leave much to flights of fancy.

Usually, he dealt with the archetypal farmyard fair which consisted mostly of the smaller variety such as a plump pig or a fattened goat. Sometimes a farmer would bring him something larger like a steer that could no longer pull the plow or a cow that had gone barren. Rarely did he deal in poultry or fish as most could handle the small game on their own.

He'd seen to his profession even when times were lean and hunting sparse. But he always made sure that his fellows had at least some supply of meat. However, meager it may have been.

As of recent, the people of Carne Village were enjoying a rather steady stream of fresh meats that came through his shop. So much so that Georg often required the aid of his son in taking on the extra work. It was a duty that maybe the boy was quite prepared for.

"Not sure I would trust him to work a knife if he can't concentrate. So I guess, it's best that he only has to salt the meats and not get his hands dirty with the real work."

Georg turned his eyes to the slab of meat that lay on the butcher block before him and returned to his labour.

Shaun again yawned as he strode along the short hall on his way to the front door. He had nearly reached the door when there came several heavy thuds against the sturdy wood. Blows with such force that to the teen it seemed the whole house was shaken. The suddenness of these strikes made Shaun give a startled jump.

Hastening his pace, the lad closed the distance in no time. Gripping the doorknob, he twisted it clockwise and pulled the door open. As the door swung open he looked out to see who had been making such a racket. He was met by the daunting visage and intense gaze of the village's newest residents. Quickly the teen averted his eyes as he felt his face grow paler beneath their scrutiny.

"D-dad, I think it's for you," the teen called out as he shrank back from the doorway.

Hearing his son call out, Georg cocked his head in curiosity. Stopping his arm in mid-swing, he lowered his hand and the cleaver it held to place the large knife on the table. Then reaching out he grabbed a nearby towel and wiped his hands clean of the meat's juices before tossing the rag back down and setting off to greet his guest.

Stepping into the hall, Georg's dark eyes fell onto the form of his lanky son.

The teen was standing with his back pressed tight to the wall as he placed himself behind the door. His head was slung low and his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to hide himself away.

"What's the matter, boy? You feelin' well?"

The scarlet-haired teen didn't answer. Instead, he stood unmoving with his eyes affixed to the floor.

Giving the teen a queer look, Georg moved past him, taking the partially cracked door in hand and opening it fully. It was then he understood the cause for his son's odd behaviour.

Standing on the other side of his home's threshold stood the village's strangest residents. The Emmot family guardians as they'd become known.

The bleached bone of the bestial masks they wore seemed to gleam as keen as polished silver in the noonday sun. While from behind those skull facades, two pairs of inhuman eyes stared out at him with piercing gazes.

While he had been in their presence many a time as of late, it had always unnerved him. Standing beneath their gaze always made him feel like prey being sized up by a hungry predator. Of course, the flashing of the many teeth within their elongated jaws when they spoke. Or the way they sometimes seemed to shift their stance and fidget with their hands as if they were preparing to strike didn't much help the matter either.

"G-good day to you," Georg nervously greeted, before clearing his throat, like that would stifle the feelings. "I wasn't told to be expecting you today."

There was a moment of awkward silence as the duo of non-humans continued to stare at him unblinking.

"Butcher."

The man-sized repto-avian addressed him in their usual harsh guttural tone, the growl-like voice earning a flinch from the robust man.

Georg immediately looked to the speaker, taking note of the maroon shirt that could be seen beneath the bone chest piece. It was a mark of identity that the pair's teenage charge had told him of. It meant that the hunter speaking to him was the one known as Jaeger.

"We have brought to you our newest prey."

Finishing his statement, Jaeger lifted one of his larger primary arms and with a taloned finger indicated something just out of Georg's sight from his place in the doorway.

With a slight twinge of hesitation, the butcher stepped out from his home and into the open air. He felt the sun's heat upon the crown of his head through his sparse covering of hair. Then turning he followed the direction of the pointing finger.

At the sight of what awaited, Georg felt his breath catch in his chest.

There, a number of yards from the man's abode, the hulking body of a monstrous brown bear lay sprawled out on the ground. It was by far the largest specimen that he'd ever set his eyes on.

Swallowing the fear he felt at the sight, George crept closer to the massive beast. Still, it lay there unmoving, serene enough to be thought of as sleeping to any who didn't know the truth.

To say that this bear was large was perhaps a gross understatement. If the beast were to suddenly rise from the dead and rear up on its hind legs, it would have undoubtedly stood as tall as three, no, closer to four, fully grown men placed one atop the other. While its mighty girth was equal enough to two men lying end to end. Its legs were impressively thick with paws that were larger than Georg's head. Their great size belying a strength that in life could've removed his head from his body with but a single casual swipe.

Turning back, the butcher eyed the pair carefully for he, like the rest of the village, took great care so as to not make prolonged eye contact. Avoiding eye contact with these beings was a lesson that all in the village had taken heed to follow. Particularly after the unfortunate incident with a village youth.

The teenage lad wasn't the keenest amongst the younger folk and had gained a reputation as being a bully. Given the events of recent, one would think that it would have toned down his ways. Yet it seemed that he was all too willing to return to old habits.

Being not very bright, the boy had taken to teasing or harassing both of the Emmot girls, though he had been cautioned about doing so. This was more than enough reason to draw the ire of the two fearsome guardians. But the elder of the sisters did well to restrain them from acting. Perhaps it was because of this, the teen had thought himself safe from reprisal. Or maybe more foolishly he believed that he could handle these protectors.

So it was that drunk on his own hubris and with his cohorts in tow, the teenager made a show of it when next he encountered the Emmot sisters and their entourage. He ignored the eldest girl's warnings and the obvious signs of danger that the pair radiated. From the low growls to the stiffened postures, it should have been enough to make him think twice about his course of action. Yet he didn't; instead, he approached the pair and locked eyes with them. As the boy had cast this final straw upon the heap, it was a straw that very well might've become the proverbial nail in his coffin.

At that point, it seemed that whatever hold Enri had over them proved to have its limits.

In the blink of an eye, the teen screamed out as he was roughly seized by their inhuman grip and forced to the ground. As described by an onlooker, it seemed that the two creatures were prepared to rend the boy limb from limb. Perhaps they would have, had it not been for the elder Emmot daughter. As per her ways, Enri managed to intervene in time and plead with them, her words seeming to soothe their wrath until it subsided.

However, one of the two felt the teen deserved something of a further reminder of his offense. So it was that with a sharp movement, the teen's arm was broken and he was released from their hold to flee with his friends in tow. It was a painful but minor problem, given the far worse fate that he could've been facing.

Of course, the boy's father had caused quite a stir after that. He argued with the girls' father and talked with the village chief. Yet it was an empty show as there was little chance of recourse given the situation.

Following this incident, some within the village had become warier of the two astral hunters as such an act didn't do well to endear them to the people. But there were more amongst the villagers that held it was an acceptable consequence. After all, the boy had been given plenty of warning and had chosen to ignore it all. This sentiment was particularly prevalent amongst many of the parents whose children had their own tales to tell of his actions.

Since then though the boy had shown a marked improvement in his attitude toward others.

The thought soon evaporated as the butcher glanced back at the deceased bear.

"What would you like me to do with your prey?"

"Provide to us the heart, the body matters not. Do with it as you please," the second of the repto-avians, Chase, spoke to him in the same tone. When he mentioned that particular organ, Chase raised his hand and clutched it tightly in the air.

Georg prepared to answer, yet before he could utter a syllable. The original speaker, Jaeger, interrupted, their blue-green eyes focused intensely on him.

"However, the pelt must remain, whole and unsullied," he growled, "It will be gifted to the mother."

"Yes, of course. I'll get right to it," the butcher replied through a sudden bout of dry mouth.

The combined gaze of the two repto-avians lingered on the stocky human for a moment, before with a curt nod, the pair abruptly turned away from him. Their tattered cloaks flapped in the air with the sudden and swift movement. While the dragging of their muscular tails whipped up a small cloud of dust. Then with their business concluded the two astral hunters strode off in their odd stalking gait.

As Georg saw them leave, he had no doubts they were returning to the home of their charges.

"A-are they gone yet, Dad?" his son's anxious voice called out from the entry of their home.

"Aye, they're gone. You can come out now."

Nervously, the teen peeked out from the opened doorway before emerging fully from the shelter of the building.

Can't really blame the boy. Those two will certainly give anyone the shivers.

The butcher gave his son a half-smile before turning back to the matter of the dead bear he'd been gifted with.

"Oh wow," Shaun exclaimed as his eyes fell upon the body of the bear left on their veritable doorstep, "This thing is huge."

"That it is, Son," Georg chuckled ruefully.

"So… how are we going to move it?" the teen asked, his eyes moving from the large bear to the house and back again.

Now, this was an issue. Georg's mind had been so preoccupied with appeasing the two hunters that he hadn't yet considered how he was going to the beast into his shop. Given the sheer size of the carcass, there was no hope of him and his son being able to move it.

For the first time, the butcher looked past the hulking body of the bear. The ground was undisturbed which suggested that it hadn't been dragged here. Instead, this meant the pair had managed to carry its bulk all the way from the forest before dropping it here. This did not surprise him for Georg need only remember their first visit to his shop.

After a knock on his door, he opened it to find the older Emmot daughter and the two astral hunters. They stood not far behind the blonde-haired teen and carried with them a pair of massive wild boars upon their shoulders.

It left quite an impression on him.

Bringing his hand up to his, Georg ruffled what hair he had balefully.

Why couldn't they have left it in the back?

"Shaun," the butcher turned to his son, "Go off and fetch Baruch. Tell him to round up some others and bring them here. They'll give us a hand moving this beast."

"Yes, sir."

The young teen nodded repeatedly before sprinting away from the home to seek out the others as ordered. With his son gone, Georg was left alone to devise a way to accomplish his goal.

He eyed the bear once more, sizing up the task set before him. There weren't many options available to him. It might've been easier to haul had the village possessed a wagon or sled capable of bearing its weight. Unfortunately, they had no wagons of sturdy enough construction. Perhaps this was a matter that he could speak to Chief Wyllam about procuring.

So with that possibility off the table, as they say, it left but one option.

Leaving the deceased bear behind, Georg strode along the side of the house toward the back. Here two large barn-style doors separated his main workspace from the outside world.

Reaching out, the butcher took hold of the handles and pulled and the doors parted to reveal the interior.

Iron meat hooks dangled from the rafters, and a wooden counter extended along the western wall. Its surface was carefully soaked with linseed oil to prevent staining and swelling when exposed to fluids, inevitable during the processing of animal carcasses. Adorning the wall, the tools essential to his craft hung neatly on pegs. Among them was a hefty cleaver, its thick rectangular blade designed for efficient chopping. Nearby was the elongated and appropriately named butcher's knife, perfect for precision cuts to size. Also present was a long, flexible filleting knife, its slender form adept at tracing bones with grace. These blades coexisted with others of varying lengths and shapes, all suspended in organized harmony.

However, none of those options would be of any assistance. Therefore, he shifted his attention to the coils of rope lying on the floor along the opposite wall. Their thickness ranged from the slender twine he often used for binding paper wrappings around meat cuts, to the much thicker ropes intended for securing larger slab cuts for hanging.

Selecting several lengths of the heavier rope, Georg slung them over his shoulder before retracing his steps. Reaching the front of the house it seemed that his return was in time to see his son's arrival. Striding alongside the teen was the aforementioned Baruch and following behind the two were nearly a dozen other men.

The approaching group paid little mind to Georg as their attention was directed solely on the body of the large animal near him.

"Sheesh, Georg. Looks like they sure brought you a big one this time, eh?"

"That they did," the butcher answered.

One man let out an astonished whistle as he stepped up before the once-bear. "I've never seen one so big. Bet it took them some effort to bring it down."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," another responded.

While the others continued to talk amongst themselves. Baruch approached his friend, "You have a plan for us on how to go about moving this thing?"

"Yeah, Georg. You got any ideas?"

The butcher smiled, "A simple one."

With casual grace, Georg took a coil of rope from his shoulder before tossing it at the other man.

Baruch stared down at the length of braided line resting at his feet. The meaning was obvious to him as to just what the butcher was planning. With a smirk, he bent down and retrieved the rope before calling out to the others. Soon enough the rest of the men gathered around as both Georg and Baruch handed out the amassed rope.

The ropes were meticulously wound around the bear's forelimbs, securing knots tied with utmost care. Once they were certain the bindings were firm, everyone in the group grasped a portion of the robust ropes and commenced pulling. Shifting the bear turned out to be a significant and challenging endeavor, even with the united effort of everyone present. Yet, amid much grunting and groaning, their feet found traction in the soil, and the weighty load gradually began to shift. What followed was an exhaustive period of physically demanding work, accompanied by a liberal dose of colorful language – some of the more imaginative utterances would have been enough to make a priest blush.

Inch by inch the bear was slowly relocated from the front of the house to the back. When finally the immense furred-covered body lay on the stone tile floor was their job accomplished.

"By the gods! This thing is heavier than it looks!" one of the men exclaimed as he released the rope from his sore hands.

"You can say that again," another agreed.

Standing around many took to wiping the accumulated sweat from their brows and tried to soothe the ache, they felt in their bodies.

"Georg," a brown-haired man called out as he raised an arm to run his hand through the damp and messy locks of hair atop his head, "Next time you need help like this. You can count me out, damn it."

"Oi, don't blame me for it," the butcher retorted, "It wasn't my idea for them to leave the bloody beast out front."

Raising his hands, the muscular form of Baruch gave a hearty but good-natured laugh as he gestured for the others to calm down.

"Now, now, what's done is done," Baruch's tone was surprisingly upbeat for one whose body ached so. Shifting his blue eyes surveyed the dead bear, "One thing is for certain. The village is gonna eat well from this."

"Mmmhmm," several men nodded.

"And that pelt, it will…"

"No," Georg interrupted, "They have plans for the pelt. I've got to give to the Emmots." The other man looked to have something else to say, but that was halted by the butcher's next statement. "And if you don't agree, feel free to take it up with those two."

The other man quickly deflated in the face of the prospect of dealing with the two hunters in person. Seeing their friend shrink back brought out a round of lighthearted jeers from the others.

While the adults busied themselves with their banter, Shaun took the opportunity to more closely inspect the great ursine lying on the grey stone tiles.

This was not the first bear he'd seen on this spot for in the past some of the other hunters had been lucky and brought one to his father to prepare. But they were always of the smaller black-furred variety, a far cry from the one before him, and Shaun could not help but marvel at the monster-sized bear.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers through the shaggy-furred pelt, feeling the solid bundles of the muscle hidden just beneath the skin. From his haunches to its shoulders and finally around to its head, the young teen examined every bit of the ursine. It was as he arrived at the great bear's paws that he noticed something peculiar. Where there should have been a set of terrible claws there was nothing, just bloody and clumped fur.

"Hey, Dad! Have a look at this. This bear doesn't have any claws."

Having heard his son's statement, Georg placed down the knife he was honing and made his way to the front of the creature. Bending down and with effort, he hefted one of the large beast's paws into the air for a closer inspection. The butcher smoothed out the matted fur and looked at the paws' digits. His son was right, the claws had been removed from the ursine to leave only a bloody stump. Letting the beast's limb flop back to the floor, Georg performed a quick survey and found it was the same with the other three paws as well.

"Well, I guess they took them," he mused, "Wouldn't be the first time a hunter took a claw for a keepsake."

This bout of interest proved to be too much of a draw and soon the others in the room made their own observations known.

"Georg," a dark-haired man with a short braid spoke up, "I didn't notice before. But aside from the beast's feet, I don't see any trace of blood on it."

This provoked the exchanging of many an inquiring glance as the rest too took notice of this.

"He's right," a burly and bald individual responded, "Look, there's nothing. Not even on the ground where we dragged it over."

"So, what's your point?"

"Well, how did they kill it?"

Multiple pairs of eyes surveyed the body of the bear, searching for any hint of crimson. Yet there was none to be found. Barring the feet, not a single speck of red could be seen amongst the mass of brown fur. In turn, this absence of obvious trauma left the group to question how such a mighty animal had met its end.

However, such matters were at present, beyond the desires of Georg as he had other issues. The two astral hunters will be wanting their prize and fee for turning this bear over to the village, and he did not wish to keep them waiting for longer than he had to.

"Enough now," Georg announced, "You lot can take your talk outside. I've got work to do, those two are expecting this pelt and… other things. And I don't plan to keep them waiting. So unless you want to lend a hand. All of you can bugger off."

While some had wanted to speak up at the rough dismissal, a stern look from the heavyset man in the blood-stained apron was enough to silence any arguments. So it was, turning away, that the group quickly shepherded themselves out of the shop.

"You go on too, Shaun. I'll have a job for you after this, so don't go too far."

The red-headed teen nodded before following the others out and letting his father begin his work.

Trailing after the group of older men, the teen listened as the conversation carried on.

"You don't think they used poison on the beast, do you?"

"I hope not. If they did then all that meat would be tainted. It'd be useless to us."

"I don't think they did." One man added as he thumbed his chin, "It doesn't seem to fit with their attitude."

"Maybe the wounds were on the belly?"

"Didn't you hear Vern? If it was then there should be blood when we dragged it."

"Well, I don't know."

The passage of time did little to quell their speculations. But eventually, the proverbial well began to run dry, and the discussion turned to other matters. This also included the recipes best suited to bring accent the natural flavours of bear meat.

Throughout, the teenage Shaun stood quietly and listened to it all as he waited for his father to finish. Not much more than half an hour had passed before he caught sight of his father rounding the corner. Tucked under his arm was the shaggy brown pelt of the bear, rolled tightly and bound with rope. In his other hand, the butcher carried a linen sack, ladened with something of size, and whatever it was had darkened the material with moisture.

"All done, Dad?"

"Yeah, at least as far as with what those two want," the father replied. "Here," he lifted his arm, offering the cloth bag to his son, "I need you to take these and deliver them for me."

The teen's face immediately showcased his apprehension at the prospect.

"Just remember what I told you about how to act when you're around those two and you'll be okay," Georg tried to soothe away the lad's fears.

"Okay, Dad."

The young teen accepted the offered items. Taking hold of the rope, he slung the pelt over his shoulder while he carried the heavy sack as he set off at a brisk pace.

The father watched his son recede as he jogged down the road, only taking his eyes off the boy when he disappeared around a corner. Turning away, Georg turned his attention to the group of men still gathered around the front of his abode.

Each of them looked at him with an inquisitive gaze.

"I know what you're gonna ask," he sighed, "And before any of you decide to ask me. Yes, I found out how they killed the beast."

"Oh," Baruch questioned, "What did you find?"

"Yeah, what did they do to it? They spear it? Or something?"

"It wasn't poisoned or something, was it?"

Georg shook his balding head, "No. A poison, like rot, would have been detected by the charm."

"Well, tell then. How'd they do it?"

"The spine had been broken in several places along with its limbs. The majority of its ribs had been shattered, and then as if that was enough, the skull was crushed. So in short, I'd reckon those two beat the beast to death."

The solemn tone and the flat expression worn by the butcher left no room to misconstrue his words as a jest. Words that only served to reinforce the formidable reputation that the Emmot family guardians had garnered amongst the villagers.

o – o – o – o

The sun was shining overhead with only a few scattered clouds for company in the sky. Its radiant warmth is a gift to all beneath to bathe in. A gentle breeze permeated the area, carrying with it the scent of freshly washed linens as the laundry fluttered on the clothesline.

It was a recipe for a fine day. The type of day which Sofina always made sure to appreciate and enjoy to the fullest.

A peace that was aided by the absence of her husband and their two daughters who were occupied with taking care of errands. Add to this that the family's two house guests were also elsewhere, doing whatever it was they did. So long as they weren't causing trouble for anyone within the village. The Emmot matriarch tried to give them little thought and just enjoy the serenity while she could.

So lost in the moment, Sofina began to hum the gentle melody that she recalled fondly from her childhood memories.

Regrettably, this enjoyable moment of peace was soon to be interrupted.

A series of rapid thuds echoed through the air, it was a noise reminiscent of the hammering of a woodpecker on the hunt. During a lull in the thuds, a youthful voice called out.

"Hello?" another series of knocks, "Is anybody home?"

Several more times the speaker repeated their questions before again knocking upon the door.

With a bit of a huff, the blonde-haired mother wadded up a pair of trousers that she held before dropping them back into the woven basket resting at her feet. Then with a quick heel turn, Sofina began to make her way back to the family residence.

Sofina quickened her stride as the rapid knocking turned incessant. Perhaps whoever it was at the door was growing impatient. Finally, she rounded the corner of the house to see the offender before her door. It was a face that she easily recognized as the teenage son of the village butcher.

"For heaven's sake, Shaun!" she called out, "Why are you trying to bring my door down like that?"

Reacting to hearing the disgruntled voice of the woman, the adolescent ceased his knocking and promptly turned to face her. As he gazed at the Emmot matriarch, the teen was surprised to see that her usually gentle features were twisted by annoyance. Something that came as a mild surprise to Shaun.

"Oh, Mrs. Emmot!" the lad replied before abandoning his place at the residence's door and strode to meet Sofina. "I'm sorry about that. But my dad said I was to bring these to you and to be quick about it."

From his hand, he placed the bag he carried down on the grass. He then shrugged, dislodging the rope strap from his shoulder, and freed the bundle from its place on his back. As a consequence, this loosening of the rope allowed the once tightly rolled pelt to fall to the ground with a soft thump. Seeing this, the lad hastily bent down and retrieved the pelt, brushing away any stray specks of dirt or blades of grass that could've mussed the fur.

"Sorry," Shaun said, holding out the loosely rolled pelt in offering to the older woman, "This is for you."

Taking the moment, Sofina eyed the roll of fur in the teen's outstretched hands. Examining the shaggy brown fur, she could only guess as to its origin. Yet she held out her hands, accepting the gift.

"Well, you'll have to thank your father for me when you get home."

The lad nodded frantically before ceasing, his posture becoming stiff as a board. Then his head turned in a slow arc, his eyes taking in his surroundings carefully.

This strange turn in the teen's behaviour only puzzled Sofina.

"Are you okay, Shaun?"

"They're not here too? Are they?" the red-haired teen's voice was soft, little more than a whisper.

For the briefest of moments, Sofina was left bewildered as to who they were. However, this was fleeting, as the answer was rather obvious for only a particular pair of individuals seemed to bring out this attitude amongst the villagers.

With a shake of her head, she replied.

"No, they're not here. Those two are off no doubt following my daughters about."

At this Shaun visibly relaxed, his body shifting back into the typical casual stance of a carefree teenager. He then reached down and lifted the laden sack from its place at his feet. The teen held the bag at arm's length as if whatever it contained was something he did not wish to have around himself.

"My dad said to give this to them," Shaun responded to the questioning look he was being given, "But c-can you give it to them for me? I mean, Dad said…"

The mother of two smirked and held up her hand to stop the lad's words. It wasn't a surprise to see another acting so. After all, it was behaviour she'd seen with many others at the prospect of being in the presence of her family's ordained guardians. Even amongst some of the adults.

"It's all right, Shaun. Give it to me and I'll see to it that they get it."

The teen nodded happily and relinquished his hold on the linen bag into the woman's grasp.

"Well, I guess I should be getting back to my dad. We're gonna be pretty busy with that latest catch of theirs. Take care, Mrs. Emmot."

"Thank you," Sofina said, "And again, thank your father for us."

"I will."

Without a word further, Shaun turned and set off with a brisk pace back along the path that had led him there.

The blonde-haired woman stood, watching and waving at the boy until he rounded a corner and disappeared from her sight. She then let out a brief sigh as she glanced at the large rolled pelt tucked under one arm and the hefty sack held in the other.

"I guess the wash will just have to wait."

The door to the house opened as the Emmot matriarch made her way inside. She shut the door through a sweeping motion of her foot since her hands were otherwise occupied with her cargo. It was only when the tale-tell click of the latch was heard did she moved away from the door and toward the kitchenette. Here Sofina placed the damp sack on the countertop, hearing a disconcerting squelch as it landed on the hard surface.

However, she decided she would not pry into the matter. Whatever was in that bag was meant for their house guests. So, she turned away and strode the short distance to the old dining table.

Sofina set the shaggy-furred roll on the tabletop and focused on the thin strand of hemp that wound around the pelt. Securing the cordage was not a proper knot, no this was a mess as if whoever had tied it was in a hurry. She traced the lines and carefully tugged on the strands. But the hemp refused to budge and remained tightly bound.

It was as she busied herself with this minor task that the home's door swung open and into the room strode the other three members of the Emmot family.

Nemu was at the forefront, having seemingly opened the door for her father and elder sister. Each of the two carried with them a stack of cut firewood.

As he crossed the room, Liam took a moment's pause to look at what his wife was doing. Though she seemed not to pay him any attention as she focused on the thin length of rope and the unruly knot. His curiosity satisfied, the dark-haired man followed after his teenage daughter and deposited the freshly cut lumber next to the fireplace.

"What have you got momma?" the youngest of the two daughters asked.

From the corner of her eye, Sofina watched as Nemu approached. "A pelt the butcher's son brought over while you three were out."

"Oh, I wonder what it is."

"We'll find out once I get this accursed knot undone."

Liam moved closer, a small grin at play on his lips, "Allow me."

Sofina cut her eyes are her husband but accepted his offer nonetheless.

Reaching to his belt, he drew the hunting knife from its sheath that rested on his hip. Then placing the edge of the sharpened steel beneath the strand of rope, he pulled the blade against with a sharp yank, severing the fibrous threads.

No longer bound by the tension which the knot held. The coils of twine began to unravel and the pelt to unroll.

Together the husband and wife took hold of the shaggy brown fur and began to further unfurl the bundle. Little by little the hide stretched further and further until it completely eclipsed the dining table. And still, more was revealed as the gulf between the married couple grew.

Liam continued to back away until he had nearly crossed the width of the room.

"Oh wow! It's so big!"

Nemu squealed in delight at the sight before her. Striding forward the young girl reached out to take hold of a sagging portion in her hands.

"It's soft," she giggled.

Liam whistled in astonishment, "Georg's boy brought this over, eh?" His dark eyes shifted, his gaze traveling from the animal hide in his hands to his teenage daughter standing off to the side of the room. "I guess there's no need to ask how they came to have this."

At her husband's mention of the earlier visitor, the family matron was reminded of the parcel that sat waiting on the kitchen counter.

"This wasn't all that he brought over," Sofina spoke.

Releasing her grip on the brown-furred hide and letting it fall and drape itself over the tabletop. Sofina turned and strode into the kitchenette.

"This came with it. Apparently, it's meant for our guests," she said as she lifted the soiled linen bag from the wooden countertop, "Enri, I'll leave this to you to deliver."

"Yes, Mom," the teenager replied.

Following the instructions, she approached the older woman, who extended her arm to transfer ownership of the stained sack. Then with the bag in hand, Enri made her way to the door and stepped out into the afternoon sun.

Watching the door close behind Enri, Sofina turned her attention back to the shaggy brown pelt stretched out across the dining table.

"So what should we do with this?"

"Well, we could always use a couple of new blankets. Or a good shawl for you and the girls," Liam shrugged, "Maybe you could make yourself a new dress."

"Ooh," Nemu's eyes seemed to light up with amusement, "Yeah, mommy. You'd be so fuzzy."

Sofina looked at her husband with a flat expression.

"Really? You'd want me to wear this as a gown? Do you think me to look like some sort of wild beast?"

"Beast? No," Liam remarked with a cheeky grin, "Though I would say that night was a bit on the wild side."

Sofina felt her cheeks grow flushed and the temperature rise, as if she had just stepped up to a lit hearth, at her husband's words. She cleared her throat, eyes settling on her significant other with a hardened stare. The normally relaxed and compassionate expression she wore evaporated and was replaced with a mask of stone. Then in silence, she strode toward the offending male.

Liam shrank back ever-so-slightly in the face of the glare that his wife bore down on him with.

"If you ever so much as whisper a word about that night in front of anyone. Especially our children. You'll see just how wild I can get!" Sofina hissed into his ear.

Involuntarily, Liam swallowed hard at the lump that had formed in his throat and hung his head low.

"Yes, dear," he conceded.

o – o – o – o

Enri strode alone outside the family home at a casual pace as she scanned the area for the two she sought. Drawing closer to the clothesline, she could smell the scent of freshly washed linen in the air. Her eyes traveled along the rope lines and the laundry which hung from them and the woven basket on the ground. Within the basket, a pile of clothes still sat waiting to be hung.

"Guess mom didn't get to finish hanging the laundry," stopping, Enri pivoted and surveyed the area, "Jaeger… Chase…" she called out.

A gentle breeze wafted by, dislodging several strands of her blonde hair causing her to reach up and remove it from her view by tucking it behind her ear. While her soft brown eyes scanned the area, seeking any sign of the wayward pair of guardians.

There came a soft flutter on the wind, a rustle in the grass, and the teenage girl seemingly felt their presence before she saw them. On reflex, she turned, her eyes falling on the vacant spot just behind her. In doing so Enri caught only a glimpse of the light which flickered as the duo of repto-avian guardians were again made manifest.

Seeing them again brought a smile to the teen's face.

As the two astral hunters gazed at the middling of their four charges, they eyed her queerly. The pair was still surprised by the warmth that she so easily shared with them struck them as an oddity amongst the village inhabitants. However, they appreciated it nonetheless.

"Your skills are still lacking girl," the gruff and guttural voice of Jaeger resounded in the open air as he admonished the teenage human. "You should've been able to detect our approach before we were within striking distance."

"Aww, come on. We've talked about this before, I'm not a hunter like you."

"Pah!" the repto-avian with the wolf-like mask spat. Disgruntled with her response, Jaeger strode forward. He drew himself up to his full height before the teen and stared down at her, his blue-green eyes locking gazes with her soft brown eyes. "And you won't be with such weak skills. You rely too much on others. You need to hone yourself as a blade upon the stone."

To anyone listening, the words may have seemed harsh and critical – perhaps meant to be taken as a slight against her. However, Enri's answer to this was another gentle smile. She knew there was no ill will behind Jaeger's statement and that they came from a place of concern. After all, these two unusual beings had been charged with protecting her family.

Seeing the girl's reaction, Jaeger could only shake his head in defeat.

"What is it that you wished of us?" he asked.

"Oh, I was to give you this."

Extending her arm, the teenager held the linen sack she'd brought with her in offering to the pair.

Jaeger reached out, accepting the bag into his clawed hand before the astral hunter bowed his head in an affirmation of gratitude to the girl. With the sack in hand, Jaeger turned away and rejoined his brother in the hunt.

The hunter in the horse-beast mask held his hands out cupping the bottom of the stained cloth parcel. While Jaeger continued to grasp the top of the bag, he raised his free hand and with a taloned finger made quick work of the thin strand of knotted hemp. As the cord fell away, Jaeger was able to reach into the sack and retrieve its contents.

Curious about this, Enri looked on watching as the astral hunter withdrew his arm from the bag smears of crimson coated the exposed areas of his blue-grey flesh. Cradled within his large hand was an oversized organ, a heart to be precise.

With its contents gone, Chase was swift to discard the linen sack, tossing it aside without a care. He then approached Jaeger and laid his clawed hands on the bloody organ. Then together, in a ceremonial-like manner, the pair lifted their arms and the prize they held toward the sky. When they held the heart above their heads, the astral hunters lowered the mask-covered heads in reverence.

For a time the two repto-avians held this pose, silent and unmoving, before lifting their heads, and from their opened mouths came an almost eerie low trilling warble.

Slowly their arms were lowered and the two seemed content to merely stare at the large heart held between them. What followed was a scene that contradicted the earlier tranquil ritual.

In a flash, the pair descended into a primitive display of brutality. With mouths agape and razor-sharp fangs exposed, they tore into the heavy muscular morsel before them. The air about them was punctuated by the sounds of snapping jaws and tearing flesh. After every bite they would pull their heads back, hunks of red muscle wedged between their dagger-like teeth, and blood was streaked on their beak-tipped muzzles. Multiple times the pair would freeze, their eyes locking and they would emit a deep guttural growl as a warning to the other.

To anyone looking on, it surely would have been a frightful sight to behold. To see these two already intimidating creatures making such an open display of animalistic viciousness.

Yet to the teenage girl standing not but six feet from them – she reacted no differently than as if she were sitting at the dinner table with her family.

To her, this was just their way, and so, she gazed on unconcerned by the happenings before her. However, the calm which Enri felt in watching the pair was only possible after bearing witness to the scene several times now.

Back then, her first time witnessing this display had come as an accident.

The pair had recently returned from their first hunt in the Great Forest of Tob and she had intended to see how they had faired. She had come out here and found the two standing in silence. The air felt heavy and she had the impression that interrupting this solemn moment would not have been wise.

Then it happened just as it did now. The show of such barbarity had come as a total shock to Enri and had left her feeling quite unnerved. To the point of forcing her to retreat to the house without ever speaking to either of them.

The next day, while she had meant to avoid the topic, and possibly them as well. It was not to be.

Early in the morning Jaeger and Chase had sought her out and when she found herself standing before the pair - the teen couldn't suppress her previous feelings of disgust and fear. Nevertheless, Enri did not allow herself to show them.

The pair had known that she had seen them and explained to her the nature of the ritual. Holding the heart aloft was to elevate the prey above themselves, to show its worthiness as their chosen prey. While the animalistic feasting that followed stripped away all that separated them. Exposing the beast that lurked in the heart of all living things and allowed it to take in the strengths that the prey had so admirably demonstrated, strengthening itself for the next hunt.

Their offered explanation had helped Enri to come to terms with what she had seen the day before. This was just a fact of life, everyone was different and this meant they had an equally diverse set of values.

To think if it hadn't been for that rooster I wouldn't have seen any of this.

The barnyard fowl in question had belonged to Robern and had been one of his more prized birds. Apparently, the pair had taken the bird as what amounted to a snack. However, Robern did not care for the reason. All that mattered to him was the act itself and how he was to be compensated for the loss.

Unfortunately, Enri lacked any monetary means of payment, and she didn't wish to get her parents involved. So the only option left open to her was to try and bargain with the old man. After a bout of negotiations, the teen had volunteered herself and the two miscreants to help out with any chores that he may have.

So the next day she and the pair of guardians met Robern in front of his old barn. The old man led the trio inside and went on about what needed doing in the place. It was during this little tour, that it was discovered that a colony of rodent invaders had taken making a home in the antique barn. This, in turn, sent old Robern into a right tizzy as he then began to bellyache about the animal feed being ruined.

Enri had tried to calm the man as she began to think of solutions to the problem. But Robern's tirade ended quickly when Jaeger stopped and spun about to suddenly face them. With inhuman speed, the repto-avian drew one of the throwing daggers from its sheath. Enri could clearly recall the look of absolute dread on the man's face at the sight. No doubt he was fearing for his life at that moment, especially with the reputation these two creatures had earned around the village.

However, there was no menace from either of them.

The dagger seemed to almost leap from Jaeger's clawed hand in a rather graceful arc and then sailed through the air between the two stunned humans, a shrill whistle marking its passing. Afterward, there had come a solid thunk of the impact and a high-pitched shriek before silence again reigned within the barn.

Following this, the pair of repto-avians brushed passed their human audience as they made their way to the other side of the barn. Here, it was Chase who buried his arm into a pile of straw before withdrawing the dagger from its spot on the wall beyond.

It was then that Enri and Robern saw it. Impaled on the gleaming steel blade was the body of a large rodent, its blood trickled down the length of the blade. The two astral hunters examined the diminutive creature stuck on the knife blade. Even leaning in close as they sniffed at its corpse. Then much to Enri's utter shock and disgust, Jaeger reached out, pulled the rodent from the blade, and deposited it into his opened mouth.

The sickening crunch that sounded after his jaws closed down on the rat was something that was surely going to stick in the teen's memory for some time to come.

The flavour of the quick meal seemed to agree with the astral hunter as shortly thereafter the pair began to search for more.

It took the teenage girl a moment to recover her wits but an idea began to take form in her mind. A way to rid Robern's barn of the offending rodents and for Jaeger and Chase to pay him back for his slaughtered bird.

Pardon the pun, it was killing two birds with one stone. Well, technically three as it also got Enri off the hook.

So after a hasty conversation with the old man, Enri set her two companions to the task of pest control.

Upon receiving her commands, Jaeger and Chase eagerly launched into a hunt for their intended prey. Together they scoured the barn overturning crates, opening barrels, tearing through haystacks, prying up boards from the walls, and even digging into the earthen floor in their search. Throughout it all, the rats squeaked and squealed at being discovered.

With their acute senses, unrivaled aim, and impressively voracious appetite for rodents it wasn't but an afternoon's work.

Old Robern was flabbergasted when the pair had made such easy work of the extermination and overjoyed when they had finished. Robern was so grateful that he immediately forgave the incident and had since taken to delivering any extra eggs his chickens produced to the Emmot family.

As an aside, it was after that Enri had learned that Jaeger and Chase had a particular fondness for eggs.

A clacking of teeth, the smacking of lips, and a low belch brought the teenager back from the past and back to the present. From her place, Enri's brown eyes watched as the two repto-avians began to pick stray bits of meat from between their fangs with the use of their talons.

"Mmm," Jaeger rumbled before turning to face the waiting female, "We thank you for bringing this. Did your mother receive the pelt?"

Enri smiled, "Oh yes. She was quite surprised to get it. I guess we owe you two for it."

"You owe us nothing," Chase snorted and approached, "It was a fair exchange. You have sheltered us. And it is you who allow our hunts."

"Well, it's not like I could keep you cooped up in the village all the time. I mean I saw how bored you two were. And besides, it isn't like we aren't protected here. Not with the defenses that Sir Tiberius provided for us all."

The teenager smiled before casting a glance over her shoulder at the house waiting behind her.

"Come on then," Enri held out her hand, "Mom's probably waiting for us inside. She'll probably want to thank you two herself."

The bestial eyes of the astral hunters fell to the young lady's waiting hand as it hovered in the air. This was not the first time she had made this gesture to them. And each time the pair were at a loss of just how to respond. Still, this did not stop Enri from offering her hand in friendship.

When neither of them made a move, she allowed her hand to once more return to her side. Then with a warm smile still gracing her lips, Enri pivoted and started the trek back toward her family's home. Striding close behind her was the pair of non-humans. Their tattered cloaks fluttered with their movements while their lithe tails slithered through the grass behind them.

o – o – o – o

The innermost reaches of the Rotunda's throne room were silent. Not for the great chamber being emptied but because none within could bring themselves to utter a word. Instead, the assemblage of NPCs merely stared up at the dragonoid seated on the aurora-shimmering stone throne. Each gazed up at him with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief at the announcement he'd only just made moments before.

"My lord, I beg your pardon," the iron-like voice of the seraphim rang out, "But you are planning to leave the sanctity of Týrnaust once more?"

"That is correct."

From his place on the throne, Tiberius' gaze drifted across the faces of those gathered before him. He watched as he processed the news of his impending departure and dealt with whatever particular emotion it provoked within them.

It was the demon lord, Koraboros, who was next to give voice to his thoughts.

"Lord Tiberius, if I may," he bowed, "For what reasons have you reached this decision? Have our efforts to gather information been insufficient?"

"No, your efforts have been more than satisfactory and have conveyed a veritable wealth of information about this world. However, relying on methods of mere surveillance and basic infiltration units can only provide us with so much."

Remus cocked his head, "If it's information we need. Then wouldn't it be faster to just capture people and interrogate them?"

"My compatriot is correct. Should we not just take those who would provide us with the knowledge we desire?"

"That it would, Gorkon," Koraboros shook his head, "However, it would not be practical. We lack the proper foreknowledge of which humans would be in possession of the information we seek. As such we would be reduced to simply seizing them at random. And in doing so it would be quite possible that we could incidentally attract unwanted attention to ourselves and alert the humans to our presence."

"Something I believe that the master would most certainly wish to avoid at this time," the Chief Attendant commented.

Tiberius nodded in accordance with the statement.

"Indeed, Mathias. Thus what is needed is an agent who can move amongst the human populace and gain access to the information without bringing undue attention onto themselves."

"And you mean for yourself to be the one who acts as this agent?"

The dragonoid shifted his focus to the Guardian Overseer standing at his side. She wore a neutral expression, but Tiberius knew this to be a mask. On the inside, she was no doubt dealing with the same swirl of turbulent emotions as the others.

"Yes, I do."

"I see."

To his surprise, Yuliana nodded briefly before leaving behind her usual place at the side of his throne. Descending the dais the female Guardian moved to take up a spot amongst her fellow Floor Guardians. With a resolute expression, the Guardian Overseer stared up at the seated dragonoid and spoke her mind.

"Then I must strongly object to this course of action."

"I must concur with Lady Yuliana."

"As do I."

"Yeah, me too."

"I as well."

The room came to life as the air was filled with a cacophony of objections to the dragonoid's declaration. While in contrast to his previous appearances, Tiberius displayed a far greater level of restraint. But alas, it was still a work in progress.

Shifting on the throne, the dragonoid's flame-coloured eyes flashed with irritation and his peaceful visage changed to a lip-curled snarl. He rose so hastily from the shimmering stone seat that it could've been mistaken for a small leap.

The rapid reaction ushered the return of calm to the growing restlessness of the gathering. All eyes in the room were held captive by the Lord of the Týrnaust as he stood atop the dais staring down at them.

"The decision has been made," he spoke in a commanding tone with words like iron that resonated throughout the chamber and left no room for a retort from his subordinates. "I know you all have great concerns with this course of action. After all, this is not as simple a proposal as visiting a lowly human village and there is much that could go awry. Yet it needs to be done."

Tiberius paused, his eyes scanning over the crowd of NPCs before him.

"Each of you has invested much of yourselves in the responsibilities which you have been entrusted. Thus it is only just that I do the same. Now, I do understand the position in which I am placing myself, and for this reason, I shall not be going alone. Therefore I have selected two of the Valkyries to act as my escorts."

The dragonoid shifted, raising his arm, Tiberius pointed to the pair in question.

"Shar're, Ryoko, you two will accompany me."

In unison, the Deagloth and kitsune broke from the single-file formation, leaving their sisters behind they strode forward to stand at the bottom of the dais. Then with heads lowered the pair of Valkyries knelt in respect.

"You honour us, my lord," Shar're expressed her gratitude with a surprisingly deep tone.

While her kitsune companion giggled, her seven tails fanning out behind her, and wagged happily, "Indeed, I look forward to journeying with you, master."

With a slow nod, the dragonoid pivoted and returned to his seat on the chair carved of glittering stone.

"Now then, there is another topic that I feel needs discussing before we're concluded." Tiberius hesitated, unsure of how to approach the subject. But taking a breath he continued, "As Guardians of Týrnaust, you are burdened with the protection of the mountain and the safety of all within. Yet in the course of your duties, you have been hindered. And unfortunately, it was by us, your creators."

There was an audible gasp from the gathered audience before a solemn hush fell the NPCs. If their master's earlier statement had staggered them, then this declaration had metaphorically knocked them down.

To the denizens of Týrnaust to imply a failure of any sort on the part of the Supreme Beings was beyond blasphemous. Under normal circumstances should such an utterance be within earshot of any of the NPCs, their response would be immediate and vicious. However, what were they to do when those words come from the very lips of a Creator, and not just any but the most exalted amongst them?

Well, there was little recourse in the ways of disputing it.

"Lord…"

Yuliana's voice was quickly silenced by a simple gesture from the seated dragonoid.

"It was a lack of foresight on our part. We did not anticipate there may be a time when you may need to traverse the mountain so easily as we. And so, on behalf of my fellow Sanguine Dragons, I apologize and will now rectify this," Tiberius rose from the throne and bowed.

There was a palpable apprehension that hung in the air over the NPCs as they seemingly had trouble comprehending what they had just witnessed.

Rising from the repentant gesture, Tiberius extended his arm, the limb vanishing from view as it passed into the extra-dimensional space of his personal inventory. It was within that his mind directed the search for a special item that he'd procured specifically for this occasion. Withdrawing his arm from the void, the small and yet dear item was held carefully between his thumb and index. Repositioning his limb, Tiberius held his arm out in such a way for all to see what he held.

The light of the magic crystals from high above glinted off the small band of golden metal. It was a ring, more specifically it was a guild ring, the Dragon's Brand. Though the distance between the audience and the ring was large, the reflection of the gem seemed to sparkle in the eyes of each NPC present.

In total, the Sanguine Dragons had created a full complement of one hundred guild rings as per YGGDRASIL's limits for guild membership. However, the guild never managed to completely fill its ranks. Ninety-two was all they had attained this meant that eight rings had gone unused. But this was the perfect opportunity to change that rather than let them continue languishing in the guild's inventory.

All attention was now focused solely on the trinket held within their master's grasp as they surmised his purpose.

"B-But my lord," Naziah's soft angelic tones were marred by the tremor which showcased her inner turmoil, "Those rings… They belong to the Creators. It would be improper for any but they to wear them."

As the Archon's words rang out, the expressions of the others underwent a transformation. A clear display of their feelings on the matter at hand.

The dragonoid lowered his arm and his softened gaze fell upon the female celestial.

"It's quite alright, Naziah. I promise you."

Despite their master's statement of reassurance, none within the throne room dared to move. Not a soul amongst them seemed capable of mustering the courage to step forward, to be the first to receive the precious gift.

Moment after moment passed by and the stillness seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

Until, finally one of their number had wrestled with their inner fear and amassed the strength necessary to put their foot forward. It was a sound that echoed throughout the vast space and as a result, all eyes were drawn to its source.

It was Aeon, the seraphim alone had the mettle to move.

His every hesitant step showcased that he was waging a battle within himself. This stuttering step caused his armour to clink and rattle softly in the quiet atmosphere. Upon reaching the bottom of the dais the seraphim began to ascend, step by step until he stood before his liege.

The chamber reverberated with a sudden and loud report.

Aeon, Guardian of the Eighth Floor, had fallen to his knees atop the sapphire platform. The seraphim lowered his head, humbly gazing at the blue tiles before extending his arms and cupping his hands together. The ghostly flames of his azure wings fluttered briefly behind him then settled, lowering themselves to drape over the angel's back like an ethereal cape.

"If this is the desire of the Creators then I submit myself to their will."

Within his voice reverberated the solemnity of his resolve.

For a time, Tiberius gazed down at the seraphim kneeling before him. Then the dragonoid reached out and gently lay the ring in the palm of the Floor Guardian's hand.

To his master's action, Aeon reacted as though a tremendous weight had come to rest within his grasp as his hands dipped heavily. Then slowly, he raised his head and gazed at the figure of the coiled dragon and the sparkling gemstone held in its tiny maw. A visible tremble passed through his form. The angelic being closed his fist about the small metal object and rose to stand at his full height. With an elegant bow, the fiery wisps of his wings flared wide, before he turned and began to descend the dais. All while cradling his closed fist to his chest plate, ensuring the valuable item held within stayed close.

Not one to be shown up by his counterpart, Koraboros was the next to stride forward.

Koraboros was, as always, the opposite of his more morally aligned colleague. Whereas Aeon had moved with a slow and apprehensive gait. He strode in a more fluid and aloof manner, yet still, his posture was perfect and he carried an air of steadfast veneration for the proceedings in which he was about to take part.

Reaching the top of the platform, the demon lord performed a fanciful flourish with his cape, tossing it back over his right shoulder. Then following his associate's example, he too knelt before the master of the mountain. Although his was a more leisurely lowering of himself and rested on one knee only. After which, he held out his opened hand just the same.

However, try as he might've, Koraboros could not keep his reaction subdued when he felt the touch of that cool metal upon his upturned palm.

He remained frozen for a second or two, just gazing at the ring lying in his hand. Then as he locked his eyes with those of the tiny loop of a dragon he felt a chill pass through his body. Feelings of sincere joy and immense gratitude welled up within the demon lord.

"I am not worthy of this highest of honours. Yet I shall strive evermore to live up to this prize," Koraboros' accented voice spoke with a gentle tone.

In return, he received a nod of acknowledgment to which he bowed once more. Then rising he turned and started back down to retake his place. He had only reached the last of the steps when he was passed by the next to ascend and collect the gift.

It was the erinyes, Lyleth.

The fallen angel's ashen-coloured wings were folded tightly and held close to her body. Something done out of nervousness but only seemed to accentuate the curves of her body and her sensual stride.

"A truly majestic gift," the erinyes purred as she admired the ring in her hands.

Subsequently, it was the werewolf twins, Romulus and Remus, who came next. As was to be expected of the brothers, they strode up the steps together. But what was surprising was the fact that for once Remus appeared to be taking the situation seriously. He carried himself with his head held high and eyes straight ahead, while his body posture was stiff similar to his more formal sibling. Indeed, it seemed that he was imitating Romulus to the point of even copying mannerisms he had no need for. Such as upon reaching the top step, Romulus raised his hand and adjusted the positioning of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and Remus was quick to mime the movement.

"We humbly accept this privilege," Romulus had spoken while his brother had chosen to remain silent.

In the wake of the wolven duo was the undead Guardian of the Sixth Floor. The cosmetically battered armour rattled and clanked far noisier than that of the equivalently garbed seraphim. As he stood before Tiberius, the characteristically stoic Gorkon showcased emotion. His iridescent blue eyes seemed to glimmer even brighter and the corners of his mouth were lifted in a smile. Much unlike the others who had preceded him, Gorkon remained hushed, speaking only with his body as he performed a deep ceremonial bow before he turned and took his leave.

The next to ascend the dais was the saintly beauty of the Seventh Floor, Naziah.

The female celestial moved with a smooth stride which made her appear to virtually glide across the dais and up its steps. It was an approach brimming with feminine poise and grace, just as to be expected from such an angelic individual.

She knelt not at the top platform but upon the second to the last stair as if some invisible barrier prevented her from proceeding. It was a subtle gesture that spoke to her feelings which gave the impression that she was not worthy to set foot atop the master's level.

Tiberius studied her face, watched as she bit at her lower lip in unease, and directed her eyes anywhere but toward him. Extending his own hand, the dragonoid lay the guild ring into the Archon's trembling hand. Carefully she closed her delicate fingers about the metallic bauble and looked up at Tiberius with moist eyes and an expression of innocent joy.

"I… Thank you, my lord," Naziah's voice audibly quivered.

Pulling back, Tiberius watched as the female celestial slowly retreated down several steps before she turned and hurriedly strode to rejoin the gathering. Then as he had done seven times previously, he plunged his arm into the extra-dimensional space and retrieved the final guild ring as he readied to be bestowed on the last recipient.

However, this time, Tiberius found nothing but empty air before him. It was a turn of events that surprised all within the throne room.

The dragonoid's flame-coloured eyes were not the only pair that shifted focus and became fixated on this remaining individual.

The Guardian Overseer stood in the same location, having not budged a single inch, with hands clasped and head bowed. This lack of participation and appearance of disinterest did not go unnoticed by her fellow Guardians who stared at her. The longer she remained, the more stares shifted to a myriad of looks, from the simple quirked brow of Koraboros to the fretful gaze of Naziah, or the smug grin that Lyleth cast.

Her odd behaviour also drew the deep interest of the dragonoid. This change in conduct was seemingly the polar opposite of her usual demeanour and not what he had been expecting. In fact, he had anticipated Yuliana to be the first to approach him.

"Yuliana," the dragonoid spoke with a gentle and urging tone.

The Guardian Overseer raised her head and lifted her jade-coloured eyes to meet those of the dragonoid. For a time she merely held his gaze, but then drew in a breath and took a step forward, beginning her ascent.

Yuliana's stride was slow, and yet not hesitant, while she continued to carry herself with confidence. Along the way, her eyes did not leave those of the dragonoid watching her attentively. In the quiet that trailed after her, only the soft clap of her sandaled soles could be heard throughout as all eyes tracked her movements.

Reaching the apex of the dais, Yuliana knelt, lowering her head she affixed her eyes to the floor before extending her arm.

Most noteworthy was that she offered her hand with her palm downturned. The Guardian Overseer's actions piqued the dragonoid's curiosity as he was left to puzzle out the meaning behind it.

Was this a sign of defiance? Perhaps a protest, a continuing showcasing of her distaste for his plans. As his mind worked through the possibilities, a rather cheeky idea took form and the corners of Tiberius' mouth turned upward ever so slightly as to be barely perceivable.

Reaching out as though he was to place the ring atop her hand, he did not, and instead, he captured her wrist in a tender yet firm grasp. This act provoked an immediate response as Yuliana gasped in surprise, lifting her head to watch what was to follow. The dragonoid adjusted his hold on her wrist, elevating it slightly before he carefully slid the guild ring onto her index finger.

This seemed to stun the female Guardian as she stared at the band of metal in the form of a coiled dragon encircling her finger. Seeing Yuliana caught so off guard certainly pleased Tiberius and he allowed himself to smile, at least internally.

When the dragonoid had released his hold on her arm, Yuliana didn't immediately retract her limb. Instead, she held it motionless in the air, her jade-coloured eyes fixated on the piece of jewelry embracing her finger. When finally she did lift her eyes from the bejeweled distraction, Yuliana found the of her master. The Guardian's emerald orbs sparkled under the light while upon her cheeks, a faint blush could be seen darkening her complexion. Overall the previously stoic expression softened, enhanced by the captivating smile she deemed to share with the dragonoid.

As he gazed on, Tiberius could swear he felt the room begin to heat up.

Then as if to distract himself from the scene and any possible stirring that may arise, he cleared his throat which sounded like a low rumble.

"You may rise, Yuliana."

Hearing his words, it was as if she was coming out from some kind of trance-induced stupor. The raven-haired beauty blinked several times as the scene around her was coming back into focus.

Immediately Yuliana was keenly aware of the turbulent feelings at play within her and the spreading warmth at her core. Had this been a more private and less formal occasion, she would've found this experience to be enjoyable. However, before the others, she had to maintain the decorum befitting someone of her station.

"I accept," the Guardian Overseer spoke in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

The smile that had held the dragonoid's attention faded as the raven-haired Guardian once more settled into a neutral expression. Rising from her kneeling posture, Yuliana performed a curtsey, and then rather than retreating to rejoin her fellow guardians. She instead strode forwards and retook her place at the side of her master's throne.

Tiberius followed her each step, surprised that she had chosen to stand by him as opposed to with the others. However, he could let his focus linger on this for too long as there was still the matter at hand to be done with.

Turning back, his eyes swept over the Floor Guardians standing amongst the other NPCs gathered around the base of the throne platform.

Each stood clutching the precious cargo in closed fists held close to their hearts. It seemed that they still harboured some level of apprehension about actually donning the metallic bands. But the eyes of the dragonoid were not the only pair settled on them.

The collective gaze of the assembled denizens of Týrnaust was held on them. But none wore an expression of offense nor jealousy. All looked upon the Floor Guardians with the typical eye-wide look of admiration as they gazed upon the most honoured amongst their number.

However, their attention was refocused when the dragonoid began to address them all.

"I see you may yet still harbour reservations about these gifts. But know this. Were my fellow Sanguine Dragons here with us now, they would wish for you to have these rings. Carry them with our blessings and let them aid you as you fulfill your duties."

There came a rousing chorus of applause.

o – o – o – o

The dragonoid sat on the plush sofa in his quarters, eyes staring at the magical ever-burning fire within the nearby hearth. The light of the dancing flames reflected in his own fiery orbs. However, his vision was unfocused as while his body was physically present the same could not be said for his mind. That part of him currently resided far away in the realms of cerebral thought.

There Tiberius busied himself with reviewing his upcoming departure plans.

With so many variables to take into account, there was much that could indeed go wrong during his journey. But he could not linger beneath the shadow of doubt and uncertainty. Still, he erred on the side of caution and tried to account for as many as possible. Yet he was not a fool and knew full well that one could not plan for every eventuality.

However, beyond his strategizing, there was another matter which vied for his attention. This particular conundrum was trifling by comparison. It oddly carried more weight in his mind than that of the others.

Again and again, he replayed the scene of Yuliana and the behaviour she had displayed in the throne room. He might've thought it to be out of character. However, given his interactions with her since the awakening of her consciousness, as with the other NPCs, there was no telling what was and wasn't in character.

So the mystery remained.

Why had she hesitated to approach and receive a ring like the others? Was there a meaning behind why she had held her hand palm down? Then there were the words she had spoken to him. At the time, Tiberius had thought them to be innocuous in of themselves. However, now he heard them repeating in his head.

I accept.

Such a simple and informal response! It stood out in contrast to the more ritualistic answers given by the other Floor Guardians. Then there was the way she had spoken, using a low whisper-like tone as if it had been meant only for him to hear.

Perhaps it was related to his actions.

His decision to place the guild ring on her finger had been a jest. Yet the reaction Yuliana had shown him. That deepening of the blush upon her cheeks, the sparkle within her jade-coloured eyes, and the enthralling smile, it all had brought about an oddly familiar feeling. It was a sensation much the same as when he had stood in the presence of that village girl, Enri.

When he had called an end to the assembly, Tiberius had assumed that Yuliana would have wished to speak with him, in an attempt to dissuade him from the undertaking. And yet, she did not seek him out. Instead, she had left him there on the throne and disappeared from his sight soon after. Then rather surprisingly she had managed to evade him thereafter. This only served to deepen the enigma.

He sighed, his eyes regaining focus.

"Perhaps the guild ring was enough to take her mind off it," he mused, "Although I doubt it. Or maybe Yuliana figures she can't argue with me. I mean she is more on the orthodox side of following the rules."

A knock at the door to his abode was enough to distract him from his thoughts.

Rising from the comfort of the thick cushioned couch Tiberius turned toward the entry. The wooden floorboards creaked softly under his weight as he crossed the room, making his way to the door and his unexpected guest.

Maybe it's Yuliana. She was probably just trying to think of a good argument.

There was a metallic click from the latch as he turned the handle and the large slab of dark oak moved on its fixed arc.

"Oh, hello, Neeshka," Tiberius greeted.

There, on the other side of the Týrnaust's Foremost Healer. The chimeric maiden stood with her hands clasped before her and a warm smile on her canine-like muzzle.

"Greetings, my lord," Neeshka spoke with the same pleasant tones as before, "May I come in?"

The dragonoid nodded and stepped aside to allow her passage.

The chimera gripped the lilac gown and overlaid white-gold robe in her hands and performed a brief curtsey, her lengthy serpent tail coiling about her feet. And with a broadening smile, Neeshka stepped over the threshold and entered the dragonoid's dwelling.

Moving past her welcoming master, the healer strode deeper into the interior until she stood at the center of the room. Slowly she turned in a small circle, her lavender eyes scanning over the contents of the space. Much like a child in a toy store, Neeshka's gaze wandered from one item to another, never lingering on one object for more than a few seconds at a time.

Tiberius closed the door and watched the chimera from his place at the entryway, taking note of her inspection of his belongings. As her examination carried on, Neeshka appeared to show a particular interest in the books that he possessed.

"Now, what may I do for you, Neeshka?" Tiberius asked as he left his pace by the door.

At the question, the chimera ceased her inspection and faced the golden-scaled figure.

"I wished to speak with you, master, about this plan of yours."

"I see," Tiberius shifted, adopting a rigid posture, "Although I don't know what else there is to be said on the matter."

The chimera drew in a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before speaking.

"As the appointed healer to the Supreme Beings, the welfare of all those who dwell within the mountain is my responsibility."

Tiberius nodded, "I am aware."

"Then you must understand that his plan of yours, there is the potential for great personal risk. Something that I cannot allow myself to overlook. My lord, in your wisdom, you must know that just as you worry for us, so too do we worry for you. After all, it is only natural."

Neeshka's voice was demure and yet held great resolve - while she looked up at the taller dragonoid with an expression of concern.

"You have led the other Supreme Beings as you now lead us. Can you not allow this task to fall to another?"

Tiberius regarded the chimera for a time before shaking his head.

"I'm afraid it cannot."

Neeshka's expression grew softer still and she gave an exasperated sigh, "You place too much weight upon yourself, Lord Tiberius. And your shoulders are already bearing a heavy burden."

The dragonoid let out a morose chortle causing the white-furred healer to shake her head.

"Stress is not something to take lightly," a somber frown crept across Neeshka's doglike muzzle, her voice taking on a severe tone as she wagged her index finger at him, "I can assure you it is not healthy to take on so much at one time."

"I apologize Neeshka. I did not mean to make light of your words."

If only she knew the truth. Still, I'd gladly take on whatever stress this brings me compared to what I faced back in the company.

Neeshka took note of the peculiar undercurrent in the dragonoid's voice. It was a sign, a hint that there was something more than he was telling. In return, her kindhearted lilac eyes stared up at him with a tinge of curiosity.

"I see. Then there is no talking you out of this, is there?" Again the chimera sighed, understanding that there would be no deterring him from his chosen course of action, "Very well, then before you depart I must insist on setting a couple of conditions."

This statement piqued Tiberius' interest as he arched his scaly brow.

"Firstly, to ensure your continued health, you must return to Týrnaust on a regular basis for a proper examination and to destress. And second, any injury or illness, no matter how insignificant it may seem, must be reported to me directly. Am I understood?"

The dragonoid nodded, "Very well, I accept and shall obey your restrictions."

"Oh, master, please don't say it like that," Neeshka's voice rose to a nervous pitch as she waved her hands in an attempt to ward off the implication, "You make it sound like I command you and that could not be furthest from the truth."

"I'm sorry, Neeshka," Tiberius gave a weak chuckle as she visibly relaxed, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," the healer took several steps, moving closer to him while she wrung her hands together. Then lifting her head, she gazed up at the tall dragonoid, "Please, do be careful while you are out there."

The female's tender nature struck a chord with the other. The feeling of profound concern was easy to pick up on, but beneath it was an air of sadness. As if this was to be the last time they spoke.

"I shall. I give you my word."

A smile spread across the healer's muzzle, "Thank you, master."

Tiberius shook his head, "No, Neeshka. Thank you."

The chimera tilted her head in a very canine-like fashion, her long hound-like ears dangled lopsided and free.

"For what, Lord Tiberius?"

The dragonoid gave the Healer a toothy, but kind smile, "For caring as you do. Something, for which, I will always be grateful."

Seeing the other smile only made the chimera's smile seem all the brighter for it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle and the inside of her floppy ears flushed pink with her unseen blush. Gripped by these emotions, Neeshka spun on her heel, facing away from her liege as she tried to hide herself.

"Are you alright, Neeshka?"

"Hmm, oh yes. I'm quite all right," she mumbled in response.

The healer remained like this for several lengthy moments. Then just as abruptly, Neeshka turned back around to face the dragonoid, and before he could again inquire about her status. Neeshka curtseyed a final time then strode toward the waiting door. She turned the handle, the latch clicked, and the door creaked on the hinges as she pulled.

However, she did not step out directly. She momentarily paused at the threshold. Her head swiveled and she looked back at the puzzled draconic individual.

"I will always care… Lord Tiberius," she spoke softly, offering her best smile.

The words seemed to linger in the air and his ears for longer than he would have expected. Tiberius then watched as Neeshka shifted and stepped through the threshold and out onto the Ninth Floor. The closing of the door and the settling of the latch was the signal of her departure.

With the exodus of his visitor, Tiberius was again left alone with his thoughts.

I knew my idea to leave would provoke a reaction from the NPCs. But I guess I wasn't quite prepared to see how much it affected them. And listening to Neeshka makes me feel kind of guilty about it. Maybe I cou…

This line of thought was interrupted by another knock at his door that drew his attention to another unexpected visitor.

However, this caller was probably the one Tiberius least expected.

No sooner had the door than the dragonoid came face to face with a scaled visage reminiscent of his own.

Standing in the opened doorway, Tiberius observed the Vault Guardian's troubled expression. The dragonoid's eyes scanned over the form of his NPC creation, searching for any sign of injury or discomfort. But he found none. So whatever was bothering the dragon was something else.

"Yuvonkiir? Are you all right?"

The dragon shifted nervously for a scant moment before responding.

"Creator, may I speak with you?"

"Of course," Tiberius nodded and moved aside, shepherding the dragon in.

Yuvonkiir bowed low in a show of gratitude. Before approaching the welcoming aperture, he pulled his folded wings in close to his shoulders, ensuring they would not pose a problem to his admittance.

Inside, Tiberius guided the crimson-scaled being toward the eastern side of the main room. Here, the dragonoid indicated for his guest to take a seat on the plush sofa while he moved toward one of the two robust chairs opposite. It was only after Yuvonkiir had been seated that he took a seat himself.

"What seems to be troubling you so, Yuvonkiir?"

The Vault Guardian did not answer right away. He fiddled with his hands as if uncertain what to do with them and he tilted his head to the side and then spoke.

"I am unsure, my creator. But I feel… conflicted."

Tiberius leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and interlocked the fingers of his hands.

"Conflicted? About what, is it anything in particular?" he asked.

The dragon averted his gaze, directing the golden orbs instead to the nearby fireplace.

"In the throne room as you spoke of your desire to leave the mountain. I was overcome with an urge to accompany you on your journey. Yet I am to remain as per my duty to safeguard the treasures of the Supreme Beings." The dragon shook his head, "I don't know what to do, creator. I am torn by these desires and I don't know what I should do."

"It is only natural that you would feel this way. The bonds of loyalty, both to me and your duties run deep in you."

Unfortunately, the dragonoid's words seemed to do little in the way of easing Yuvonkiir's discomfort. Instead, the dragon's posture remained stiff and his muscles tensed while he continued to stare at the magical flames burning in the hearth.

In the lack of any forthcoming answer, silence descended over the pair.

The dragonoid sat in his chair watching the Vault Guardian. It was clear to him that Yuvonkiir was troubled by this inner conflict and had come to him seeking a resolution. Yet he did know what answer to give that would be capable of ending his turmoil.

Throughout his interactions, Tiberius had to admit that he was surprised to discover how mature the mountain's inhabitants seemed, both mentally and emotionally. This was especially mystifying given the fact that before their awakening the NPCs were just that, mere game characters. Perhaps whatever it was that granted this change in status to them was also helping them adapt. Maybe it was something more. In either case, Tiberius did not know.

Yet while the dragonoid could not understand how this was possible. In the case of the Treasury Guardian, however, it gave Tiberius a fleeting glimpse into the problem.

Yuvonkiir was a dragon, and while in YGGDRASIL this was rather arbitrary, meaning little more than a designation that dictated what stats and abilities were available. But here in this new world his being a dragon meant something.

Dragons were fierce creatures, known in legends for the habit of staying within their lair and guarding precious treasures. It made sense that these instincts would now be feeding into and perhaps clashing with the sense of duty that all the NPCs seemed to have been imbued with. Yet more so, it seemed that Yuvonkiir had great personal loyalty to him as his creator.

He seems apprehensive about me leaving. Almost afraid of it. Does he see my leaving the mountain for an extended period as abandoning it? Or is it he's afraid that I'll abandon him? Is this what Yuliana was talking about?

It was a thought that struck a chord deeply within Tiberius' memory as he recalled Yuliana's words to him during the night of their excursion from Týrnaust.

With their creators absent, do the others feel that they were abandoned? Is this why they're so driven to cling to me? He sighed. Is it wrong of me to want to go out like this? I mean it's not like I really took their feelings into account when I made my decision.

Unfortunately, this was not hard evidence but only an educated guess. Still, it was better to have some idea than none at all.

Tiberius drew a slow breath and spoke, adopting a calming tone.

"I understand, Yuvonkiir."

At the sound of his name, the Guardian turned his gaze away from the hearth and toward his creator.

"Understand what, my creator?"

"I know you worry for me. And while I would be grateful for your company on the journey. I rest easier in knowing that you are here to protect the mountain and all that resides in it." A small spread over the dragon's scaled snout. "Remember, though, my leaving is not something permanent. I shall be making regular return visits to the mountain, to my home. I would never abandon this place. Or any who dwell within."

While it appeared Tiberius' words did alleviate the dragon's inner confusion, and yet he got the inclination that this wasn't the end of it.

"Is there something else bothering you?"

"Yes," the dragon uttered the word with no small amount of hesitation.

"What is it? Recall I told you that you could speak freely around me."

Yuvonkiir fidgeted nervously on the plush sofa, even going so far as to rub the back of his thick neck.

"During the gathering, after your proclamation, you bestowed my fellow Floor Guardians with the rings of the Supreme Beings. And yet, I did not receive one." The dragon shifted on the plush sofa cushion and hastily lowered his gaze to focus on the floor. "Forgive me, creator. I did not mean to speak against your decision," he begged.

"Relax, Yuvonkiir," Tiberius gestured for the Vault Guardian to calm down, "I am sorry if my actions bothered you so. I did not wish to cause a ruckus during the assembly. However, I do have a ring for you."

The dragon lifted his head, curious as to his master's meaning, and watched as Tiberius rose from his chair and approached. Coming to a stop just beside the seated Vault Guardian, he slid the guild ring from the finger of his right hand. Inquisitiveness turned to shock when the dragonoid extended his arm toward him.

"Here."

Yuvonkiir gasped as he recoiled from the outstretched limb. His eyes were wide like saucers as he stared at the small object resting in the opened hand.

"N-No, I cannot," the dragon hastily stood and tried to push his master's hand away, "That ring is yours and yours alone! I would not dare to sully it."

Tiberius shook his head, "I cannot risk taking this ring with me. Should it fall into someone else's hands it would pose too great a threat. So I have no choice but to leave it behind." Again he held out the ring and again the dragon pulled away as if the ring could somehow hurt him. "Yuvonkiir, I would rather this ring be held by one I know would keep it safe. Than let it lay unattended on my desk."

"Why not one of the other guardians? Lady Yuliana would surely prize such an honour."

"I had considered her. However, she has enough responsibilities and I do not wish to burden her further. As it stands, you are the strongest of the Floor Guardians, the ring would be safest in your care. Would it not? Furthermore, think of it, not as merely a trinket for you to look after. But as a symbol for my promise to return."

Yuvonkiir swallowed the lump in his throat, his gaze flicking to the tiny inanimate coiled dragon.

"Though I will not wear it. I accept… If only to act as its guardian," The Vault Guardian reached out and took the guild ring into his own hand. "At least, until your return," the dragon quickly added.

Tiberius smiled.

For a minute or two, the pair of scaled individuals simply stood in the quiet of the dragonoid's abode. Only the soft crackle of the fireplace to be heard in the space. Then Yuvonkiir broke the silence.

"It is getting late, and I should be returning to the vault."

Tiberius again nodded in understanding and escorted the Vault Guardian back to the entrance. As per proper manners, the dragonoid opened the door for his guest and received words of gratitude in return.

Yuvonkiir stepped outside and turned back to face his master, "I am still uncertain about this…" The dragon extended his arm and indicated the ring within his grasp, "But I shall do all within my power to ensure its safety."

With a final low bow, Yuvonkiir then rose, turned, and set off, perhaps to return to his domain within the Grand Treasury. Or maybe he had another destination in mind. Yet, either way, the Guardian disappeared from his master's view into the recesses of the Ninth Floor.

With the Vault Guardian gone, Tiberius, however, remained in the opened doorway for a time, waiting to see if there would be any further visitors. His eyes swept across the grounds outside his quarters to find no one. So, satisfied with that the dragonoid turned and went back inside.

Within his quarters, Tiberius made his way to the replica Victorian-era desk and took his place behind it.

So the dragonoid sat comfortably and busied himself with returning to an earlier task. His eyes flicked regularly between the map of the city of E-Rantel and the collection of reports which had been earlier prepared for him. Occasionally, he would retrieve the nearby quill from its inkwell and scribble a quick note within the margins of the page. Time passed him by unnoticed as he continued to stare at the pages until he began to feel the creeping sensation of lethargy.

He lifted his gaze from the mess of papers and leaned back in his chair. He arched his back and raised his arms above his head as he stretched While the dragonoid's powerful jaws parted, lips pulled back to reveal his mouthful of dagger-like fangs as he gave a great yawn.

"I guess it's time to call it a night. Not much else to be done tonight," he mumbled, "This reminds me of all those late nights spent at the office. But at least here, I can stop whenever I want and not when someone else says I'm finished."

Rising from the cushioned chair, Tiberius again stretched his cramped muscles and enjoyed the feeling of the tension leaving him. He glanced back down at the papers before turning and stepping away from the desk.

The dragonoid's claws clacked on the polished floorboards as he strode through his quarters and made his way to his waiting bed.

Stepping into the bedroom, Tiberius tugged the scarlet sash free of his waist and removed the sleeveless ocean-blue robe. After folding it over his forearm, the robe was soon discarded upon the nearby overstuffed pillow-like mattress. The wine-coloured tunic that he wore underneath was next to come off, dragging it over his head carefully so as to not snag on his horns before it joined the robe. Standing at the foot of the bed, he considered shedding his trousers but decided against it.

The dragonoid then climbed onto the pillow bed and crawled in a very reptilian manner deeper into the plush softness. Reaching the center of the mattress, Tiberius snagged one of the larger pillows and dragged it to himself before collapsing on it. He remained like this for a moment before rolling over onto his side. With his right hand, he groped about behind him until he felt the shaggy softness of one of the many pelts that were strewn across the mattress. Then with a steady tug, he draped it over his body and closed his eyes, readying for sleep.

Lamentably, this respite was brief.

A series of light taps echoed through the air of his quarters to reach his ears.

The dragonoid's eyelids parted and flame-coloured irises darted about the room as he sought the source of the disturbance. Then with a low groan of agitation, Tiberius gripped his pelt cover and flung it aside before he rose from the mattress.

"Whoever it is, better have a good reason for waking me," Tiberius' baritone voice reverberated with enough volume as if he had intended for the knocker to hear.

Rising from the comfort of the bed, the dragonoid strode with heavy footsteps out from his bedroom through the main room and to the front door of his residence. Arriving at the entryway, Tiberius took the door's handle into his grasp and aggressively and swiftly pulled open the door.

This unexpected and rapid movement caught the individual on the other side off guard.

With a startled jump, the Guardian Overseer leaped backward from the door to land several yards away. Within her, instincts awoke to cause Yuliana to assume a defensive posture. However, these feelings were quickly stomped down by rational thought. As her eyes focused on the form of the golden-scaled dragonoid, Yuliana regained her lost composure and adopted a stance befitting her station.

Emerging from the door of the Norman Keep, Tiberius' red-orange irises appeared to glow in the low light of the artificial night. His gaze swept across the area outside his abode before settling on the kneeling form of the Guardian Overseer.

"Yuliana? What are you doing here at this time of night?"

Hearing the dragonoid's words, she rose from her subservient pose. However, she was prepared for the view that awaited her.

Raising her hand to her mouth, she stifled a gasp at the sight of the half-nude figure of the individual standing before her. Yuliana could not deny that his appearance had always drawn her eye. But always it was a sight shrouded from her sight by the clothing and armour that garbed his body. Yet here Tiberius stood before her now with half his body bereft of any covering. She could not help but gawk.

Primal instincts came alive within Yuliana while the pace at which her heart beat grew with a palpable excitement. Never would she have imagined receiving such a privilege as to fulfill what amounted to a private fantasy. Though she had to admit to being at least partially disheartened by the dragonoid being clothed at all. However, that was what imagination was for, it would allow her to see that which was otherwise hidden from her.

Through the haze of her waking dream, Yuliana watched as the dragonoid cocked his head and she saw his mouth move. And yet, she heard nothing.

"W-wha… I'm sorry, master. But what did you say?"

Tiberius eyed the female Guardian curiously.

"I asked if you were okay?"

Yuliana felt her cheeks grow flushed with a burgeoning heat. Normally she would have been grateful for the darkened conditions in which she could hide her blushing face. Yet she knew it meant nothing to the other as he possessed the same [Dark Vision] skill as she, and to their eyes, it was well-lit as if it was early morning.

Knowing this, she muttered a curse for her lack of self-control. All while being hopeful that her liege did not also possess some skill for enhanced hearing.

Though flustered, she managed a reply, "I-I am fine, my lord."

Tiberius eyed the Guardian Overseer standing before him, taking note of the darker colouration tinting her cheeks. Originally he had thought to simply send her off for disturbing him at such a late hour. However, he could not bring himself to do so.

She had avoided him until now and she must have had reason to do so. But as to what that reason was, Tiberius could only guess. Yet with Yuliana standing before him, he might be able to learn the reason for her recent stint of odd behaviour. As such it would be best to invite her inside and hear out whatever she no doubt wished to discuss.

Besides, it would have been rude of him to not offer her a chance to get out of the night air. Even though like the rest of the mountain's levels, the Ninth Floor was climate-controlled to forever remain at a comfortable temperature.

Turning to the side, Tiberius held out an outstretched arm as he gestured toward the opened door.

"Would you like to come in?"

Hearing the soft rumble of the dragonoid's voice as he welcomed her into his quarters sent a shiver down her spine.

"As you wish," Yuliana answered.

The loose sleeves of her peplos flowed through the air like water as her graceful stride carried her forward. In her passing, a faint smile graced Yuliana's lips, especially as she entertained the thought of the dragonoid's eyes following her from behind. A view she hoped he liked.

Passing through the opened door, Yuliana's emerald eyes swept over the interior.

To Yuliana's surprise, the surroundings seemed rather humble with practical, yet comfortable-looking furnishings. There was also little in the way of trophies which she could see with only a glass display case along the wall in what appeared to be a study. All in all, this was not what she had in mind when she thought of the inner sanctum of the highest of the creators.

So caught up in her examination that the Guardian Overseer failed to hear the click of the door latch. Or the tale-tell clack of the dragonoid's taloned toes on the wood which accompanied each of his approaching footsteps.

"I assume that you've come to further attempt to dissuade me from my decision?" said Tiberius.

Yuliana spun around immediately to come face to face with her master. However, the height discrepancy between them left her eyes level with his broad and muscular chest. As her eyes traced over the scaled flesh, Yuliana felt the urge to reach out. To touch him, to feel the firm musculature buried beneath the surface of shimmering golden scales.

But she could not, it would be nigh unforgivable were she to impose her will upon one so far beyond her.

Although it was difficult to do, Yuliana managed to pull back from the edge of temptation.

"Quite the contrary, my lord," the Guardian Overseer replied with a smile and cheerful tone, "I have no such intention."

Now it was the dragonoid's turn to be taken aback. This was an answer that he truly was not expecting to hear and thus left him dumbfounded and unable to do little but fix the woman before in a perplexed stare.

What?! This can't be right. There's no way Yuliana is just okay with me leaving, especially after that act she pulled in the Throne Room.

Tiberius cocked his head and quirked his brow.

"You're not?" said Tiberius, an edge of suspicion to his voice.

"No, Lord Tiberius. I know that undertaking such an action would be a futile effort." Yuliana shook her head, "No, I have come instead to petition that I be allowed to join you on this journey."

Tiberius remained unmoving, his eyes fixated on the Guardian Overseer, while he mulled over the option that she was proposing. However, he came to the same conclusion each time.

"I am sorry, Yuliana. But I must deny your request."

"B-b-but my lord… Why not?" the raven-haired beauty shifted, her eyes widening in shock, "Have I not already accompanied you during your previous excursions?"

"Because aside from myself, you hold the highest rank amongst any who call Týrnaust home. It would not be wise for both of us to be away from Týrnaust at length simultaneously."

The Guardian did not accept the response and was quick with a retort of her own.

"Then why must you go? If the danger is so great then it would only make sense to send a lesser than to sacrifice yourself. Could a doppelganger not be used to infiltrate this human guild and provide us with the information we need?"

"Yuliana."

"I'm sorry, Lord Tiberius. But…"

"Yuliana!"

Whereas before he had spoken calmly, now he said her name in a far firmer tone. A tone that gripped the Guardian Overseer in its authoritative grasp. Soon after she quieted and gazed up at him.

"Let me ask you a question, Yuliana. Do you know how I became the leader of the Sanguine Dragons?"

With a shake of her head, the Guardian Overseer answered, "I would assume it is because they recognized your greatness was beyond their own." A look of shame soon engulfed her as she bowed deeply, "Please! Forgive me! I did not mean to diminish the Supreme Beings. I was merely…"

Tiberius raised his hand in a gesture meant to settle her nervousness.

"Before the formation of the Sanguine Dragons, we wandered YGGDRASIL separate and alone. But our paths crossed and in that time I earned the respect and eventual loyalty of those who would come to become my fellow dragons." He paused, "If I am to continue leading as I have. Then I must earn the respect of you and your compatriots."

Yuliana stared at the dragonoid incredulously.

"You are the greatest of the Supreme Beings, the most exalted of their number. You have our everlasting respect and undying loyalty without question or hesitation." Yuliana spoke the words emphatically.

"But is it respect for what I am? Or for who I am?" the dragonoid raised his hand and gestured to himself.

"I-I don't understand, my lord."

"The question is a simple one, is it not? Do you honour me merely because I hold the office of Guild Master? Because I am one of the Creators? Or for who I am as an individual?"

The quizzical expression Yuliana wore faded away to be overtaken by a look of seriousness.

"It is true that we pay respect to your position as the master of Týrnaust and the leader of the Supreme Beings. But there is more to it than that, more to you."

"Oh?" the dragonoid crossed his arms, "And just who am I to you?"

The Guardian Overseer hesitated to respond as a familiar sense of embarrassment began to rise within. Still, Yuliana pushed herself to answer.

"You are…" she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, "You are a courageous leader who shines as a beacon for others to follow. A generous and caring individual who shows mercy to others, even those that are unworthy of such a gift..."

Hearing the Guardian Overseer speak, Tiberius at first believed it to be Yuliana's attempt at flattery. Yet, as she continued, he watched her and noted that this was not some banal compliment with which she was trying to placate him. No, he could read it in her body language, the sound of her voice, and the expressions she wore. Yuliana meant each word she said.

"You honour me, Yuliana," Tiberius said, "But I feel that I have done little to earn such high praise."

"How can you say something like that?" The beautiful Guardian looked up at the dragonoid seemingly aghast at his words. "You have done much and earned every word. You have shown us such care, you stayed with us and continue to look after us while the other Supreme Beings left us. And though we are but servants, created to carry out the will of the Supreme Beings. You treat us as if we could somehow be equal."

Before she could continue to speak, the Guardian Overseer was interrupted. So caught in the moment that Yuliana failed to take notice of the dragonoid's slow approach until a large hand was laid gently upon her shoulder.

However, what should have been an act of comfort became something else. Tilting her head, the Guardian Overseer observed a conspicuous absence on the dragonoid's index finger.

"My lord, I beg your pardon, but what happened to your guild ring?"

"Oh," drawing back his limb, Tiberius gazed at his hand and vacant finger, "I realized it would be too dangerous to take it with me. So I left in Yuvonkiir's care for safekeeping."

"I see," the raven-haired Guardian said with a voice that was little more than a murmur.

Taking several steps, Yuliana shrank back from the dragonoid before putting her back to him. She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around herself as if to hold herself together.

"Then please forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Tiberius cocked his head curiously, "For what?"

"For not being worthy enough," her voice broke with the turbulence of emotion, "For not being strong enough that you would be forced to entrust another with such an important task."

Tiberius stood, listening to the demoralization in the Guardian's voice and the body language of a wounded animal. It was a sight that reminded him deeply of that first night in this new world when Yuliana had showcased a more vulnerable side. A side of her that spoke to whatever trouble was at work within her.

Why? Why does she keep saying such things? I know the others miss their makers too. But she makes sound like they were gleefully tossed aside by them. Does she truly believe that? That they were disappointed in them and that's why they left?

The dragonoid reflexively sighed inwardly before taking two steps and closing the distance between him and the distraught Guardian.

"Yuliana," he addressed her with a gentle tone, "You mustn't say such foolish things."

Yuliana turned abruptly, her raven locks fluttered in the air as she whirled around to face Tiberius. Her jade-coloured eyes were moist with fresh tears when she met the flame-coloured gaze of the dragonoid.

"Is it foolish to speak the truth?" the beautiful Guardian declared, her voice taking on a steely edge, "Had we proved ourselves in their eyes, would we have been cast aside so easily? Would the other Supreme Beings have remained here with us, to stand your side and ours?"

The dragonoid was taken aback by the sudden and drastic change. To see her striking features twisted, teetering between anger and sadness. Her body tense and she clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white.

"That's enough," Tiberius barked, unable to remain quiet at the sight before him.

Reaching out, he again laid his hands upon Yuliana's shoulders. His grip was firm enough so as to not be easily shirked off, yet tender enough so as to not bring her pain. Through this tactile contact, Tiberius could tangibly feel the tension held within her body manifest as minor tremors which would occasionally shake her form.

"Listen to me, Yuliana. You, all of you, are not disappointments. And none of you were abandoned." The Guardian Overseer did not comment, instead, she continued to meet his stare with her own. "I know with the utmost certainty that they are proud of each of you. It was not by their own choice that my fellows are not here now. Remember, they were not only taken away from you. But from me too. And I know that if they could be, they would be here now."

Tiberius paused to draw a breath and hope that his words had managed to chip a hole through the walls that Yuliana had erected around herself.

"Just because I have given my ring over to Yuvonkiir, does not mean that I think any less of you. And while the ring is a precious item, there is something far more important that I am entrusting to your care."

He released his grip on the Guardian's shoulders and took a step or two past her before he turned and held out his hand. Yuliana did not hesitate to reach out and grasped the dragonoid's hand with her own, which seemed to disappear as it was engulfed by his larger hand.

With a gentle tug, Tiberius led the dark-haired beauty across the width of his quarters until they stood before the alcove nestled in the wall of the study.

Immediately, two pairs of eyes were drawn to the ornate weapon levitating within the alcove.

Shifting, the dragonoid glanced at his female companion. The light which shone on its glimmering surface was reflected in her eyes.

Yuliana's gaze wandered across the form of the polearm, from the nigh-abyssal onyx diamond at the bottom of the platinum shaft to the gleaming crystalline spearhead resting above the golden figure of the five-headed dragon whose folded wings formed the double axe blades.

The memorizing object seemed to enthrall the Guardian with its presence as she stared wide-eyed at it. In gazing at the incredible sight, she felt the strong urge to reach out and touch it, to feel for herself whatever power coursed through its form. Slowly her hand inched closer until her fingertips could almost graze the surface before her senses were returned to her. No longer under the sway of the Dragon Staff's spell, the Guardian's hand fell away to again rest at her side.

"I-I'm sorry, Lord Tiberius." Yuliana hastily apologized, "I don't know what came over me."

The dragonoid did not respond immediately. He had been looking on with interest as to how she would react to being so close to what was one of the most important items in the entirety of the mountain. So the fact that Yuliana had seemed so captivated did not surprise him.

"It's fine, Yuliana," Tiberius attempted a reassuring smile, "But I trust you understand now. If I did not see you as worthy, why then would I so entrust you with the care of the two most important possessions to the Sanguine Dragons?"

This prompted a curious expression and a question from the dark-haired Guardian.

"Forgive my lack of understanding. But you said two. If this but one," she gestured to the guild weapon, "What might the other be?"

"The only thing more valuable than this," the dragonoid turned and inclined his head, "Is all of you who live within the mountain."

"Lord Tiberius…" she spoke, her voice strained with emotion.

Yuliana gazed up at the tall dragonoid, her jade-coloured eyes staring deeply into the flame-coloured orbs of the other. For a moment, Tiberius believed that he'd succeeded in once again upsetting the beauty standing in front of him. Yet on her delicate features were the hints of a smile taking shape. Then when he saw a tear fall from the corner of her eye, he reacted on instinct.

Reaching out, he made use of his thumb to gently wipe away the tear and in the process, he cupped her cheek in his oversized palm. It was a move that she found an equal mix of surprising and reassuring.

Yuliana gasped at the sudden contact and stood there with her mouth slightly agape as she stared up at the dragonoid who towered over her. In holding his gaze, the iridescence of his eyes, while always mesmerizing, had never seemed so much so as they did now. In an equally odd turn, she had found the warmth of his scaled flesh to be a comfortable temperature. Yet the longer that they held eye contact, the heat that it radiated seemed to exponentially increase.

Similarly, Tiberius found himself equally transfixed.

As he stared into the Guardian's eyes, he was struck by the brilliance of the emerald green. How odd he thought, had her eyes always been such a vibrant colour? Or was there something different about her? In either case, so strong was their pull that he could not bring himself to look away. Nor did he feel the desire to do so. For Tiberius, the longer he held her gaze the more he felt as though he was being submerged, and it certainly didn't feel bad at all.

Between them, it seemed that time had come to a halt and that suited them as the pair stood unmoving. At least until Yuliana broke the status quo.

The onyx-haired Guardian leaned forward and pressed herself firmly against him, her raven hair contrasting sharply with the pale silver of his abdomen. Wrapping her arms around his waist, Yuliana rubbed her cheek across the scales of his bared chest while the twin globes of her bosom were compressed against his stomach.

The suddenness of the act took the dragonoid completely unprepared and left him with little recourse in the matter. After all, he couldn't just push her away as who knew what kinds of mental anguish this would bring. Besides, the sensations which accompanied the embrace were not altogether unpleasant. In fact, he found them so agreeable that the dragonoid allowed himself to be enveloped by the sensation to the point where his aptitude for rational thought was rapidly lessening. And without thinking his arms began to move, mimicking Yuliana's own, and encircled her smaller frame with ease.

"Master," Yuliana said in a breathy whisper.

Hearing her voice seemed to do little for his higher mind, and instead served to push him further under while drawing out the deeper more primal side of his nature. This primitive mind was quick to assess the situation and found itself wanting more. By no measure was this current level of intimacy between them enough to satisfy. Thus a craving began to grow within him, an urge that pushed the dragonoid to act.

Nerves tingled and muscles tensed while behind Tiberius, the length of his heavy tail twitched and squirmed excitedly on the floor. With some difficulty, the dragonoid loosened his hold and his hands traced downwards along her frame until they rested on the tantalizing curve of her hips. His fingers flexed, feeling the pliant flesh hidden beneath the peplos of the female in his arms.

Powerful instincts called out to fulfill their primal desire. Yet somehow, despite their siren's call, Tiberius managed to resist.

"Y-Yuliana," the dragonoid mumbled.

A soft hmm was all the response that came from the beauty so engrossed in the shared embrace.

"A-as… enjoyable as this… moment is. I should really be getting some rest… for tomorrow."

The dragonoid's plea appeared to go undetected by the Guardian Overseer as she remained unmoved, her arms still wrapped around his waist. It was only when he repeated her name and his previous request that she finally seemed to take notice.

The words were slow to settle into her mind, but hear them she did, and then with great reluctance, Yuliana loosened her grip. Drawing back, she felt cold and sorely missed the comforting warmth that she had experienced.

"Y-yes, yes, of course, my lord," said Yuliana, a tangible tone of regret in her voice, "I apologize for keeping you up at this late an hour."

"It's fine," Tiberius replied attempting to hide his own desire to continue.

In silence, the pair slowly drew themselves apart. A few more words were shared before the dragonoid escorted his guest back to the front door. As per the demands of hospitality, Tiberius stepped forward and opened the door before moving aside for Yuliana to pass.

In doing so, the Guardian Overseer's stride could easily be described as lethargic. She moved at such a languid pace as if holding onto some hope that her master may yet reconsider.

Pausing outside the door, turned to once again face her dragonoid master before performing a low bow. A gesture which afforded him an enticing view of her bountiful bust as gravity pulled the swell of her chest downwards to strain against the cloth of her peplos she wore.

"Goodnight, master," she said after returning to an upright posture.

"Goodnight," Tiberius responded.

The pair lingered in the stillness of the Ninth Floor, and as they did so, a curious thought came into the dragonoid's mind.

Where does Yuliana sleep? I know for the others we created rooms on their home floors. But I don't recall if anything like that was done for Yuliana, Mathias, or Kip for that matter.

"Yuliana," Tiberius said, "While I'm away, you can make use of my quarters… if you'd like."

There was a sparkle in those jade-coloured eyes, "Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your kindness."

"Oh and Yuliana. Remember, you are not alone here and you will never be a disappointment."

A wide and heartfelt smile spread across her features as she nodded. Then with a slight flourish of gown, the female Guardian turned and began to retreat, making her way off to whatever her destination.

While from his place in the doorway, Tiberius looked on, feeling a pang in seeing her leave. When she had vanished from his line of sight, he turned and reentered his abode.

"Thank the heavens!" the dragonoid exclaimed no sooner than the door had closed, "If she had stayed here any longer… or clung on any tighter…"

Tiberius let out a pensive sigh before inclining his head and looking down at his upturned hands. His fingers flexed reflexively while he stared at his empty and trembling hands. A small part of his mind still holding onto the feeling of Yuliana in his arms and against his scales.

"I don't know if I could've held myself back."

He leaned back against the heavy wooden door and his body sagged under the weight of the tension which clung tightly to him. It was then that he became distinctly aware of just how uncomfortably constricted his trousers had come to feel, particularly in the area of the inseam. The dragonoid lowered his hands to his sides before shifting his gaze to his lower half.

Gods above, I really hope she didn't notice that. He sighed. I don't think I'll be sleeping like this anytime soon.

He pushed himself off the door and straightened his posture.

Maybe a cold shower will help.

With a stiff-legged stride, Tiberius began to make his way toward the hall and the waiting washroom. Within its confines, the dragonoid set to work drawing a cool bath and hoped that it would work to resolve his condition.

Discarding what little clothing he wore, he moved to the tub's edge and paused. Tilting his head, Tiberius directed his eyes downwards.

If this didn't work…

Well, there was always the option of taking the direct approach and taking this matter in hand as the adage said. Either way, he would be soon remedying himself of this pesky anatomical nuisance.

o – o – o – o

There were a fair number of scattered clouds in the sky which drifted on the gentle breeze. Occasionally the winds would carry the clouds into obscuring the face of the noonday sun, providing some respite from its relentless warmth.

Far below a steady stream of humanity trudged along a well-worn dirt road on their journey through the outermost district of the fortress city of E-Rantel.

Among the crowds of travelers, many were ordinary villagers. A few ventured alone, but most journeyed alongside family or friends. Many transported their belongings in rucksacks draped over their shoulders or in makeshift backpacks. These rudimentary packs were essentially tall, lightweight baskets fitted with a pair of straps, allowing villagers to carry them on their backs comfortably.

This straightforward carrying method sufficed for those not burdened by heavy loads. However, for those needing to transport more substantial cargo, there were caravans of horse-drawn wagons and mule-led carts available.

The majority of the wagons were simple, boxy structures designed for utility rather than aesthetics. However, some wagons stood out from the rest, belonging to professional merchants who prioritized appearance over practicality. They invested heavily in decorating their vehicles, employing vibrant paints, banners, and even subtle, ornate etchings with gold inlay to distinguish themselves from competitors.

Even among these ornately decorated wagons, the fully enclosed carriages of traveling nobility were in a class of their own. The lavish adornments on these regal carriages far surpassed those of the most embellished merchant vehicles. Drivers perched on elevated seats guided the procession, while a contingent of bodyguards – often former adventurers – marched alongside. Passersby might catch fleeting glimpses of the elite passengers peering out from the windows of their opulent coaches.

Whether they were pilgrims journeying to a local temple to pay homage, merchants heading to the market, nobles traveling to the city for official business, or simply passersby en route to other destinations, all these travelers intermingled freely on the roads.

It was there striding amidst the foot traffic was a trio of individuals, one male, and two females.

As he had on previous occasions, the dragonoid once again took on his human form to blend in and move without hindrance. Again appearing as a fair-skinned young man standing at six and a half feet tall, with a clean-shaven face that exhibited slim, masculine symmetry. His cold, steely blue eyes constantly shifted, sweeping across his surroundings, occasionally pausing to focus on something that piqued his interest. His shaggy dark-brown hair caught the gentle afternoon breeze, fluttering softly.

To facilitate his infiltration, Tiberius decided against wearing his distinctive divine-class armour, opting instead to safely store it within the extra-dimensional pocket of his personal inventory.

In place of his gleaming silver armor, he chose a new ensemble – a knightly surcoat in deep crimson that fell to his shins and swayed with each step he took. Beneath the surcoat, he wore a cuirass of scale mail crafted from dark metal, complemented by a long-sleeved tunic. His hands and forearms were shielded by Gothic-style gauntlets and vambraces, also made of the same dark metal. The heavy fabric of his trousers was neatly tucked into mid-shin-high leather boots, which were reinforced with metal toe caps and heel plates for added protection.

The garment, procured from the Grand Treasury, originally had a rather garish look that was more suited to a fantastical setting and thus inappropriate for discreet movements. To address this, he used a transmog blueprint from a set of starter gear found in the archives of Týrnaust's Lexicon Athenaeum. Although this new attire did not offer the same level of protection as his typical armor, being of relic class, it still provided substantial defensive capabilities, only slightly less formidable than his usual gear.

The scenario was similar for the duo accompanying him.

To Tiberius' right strode Shar're, the draegloth.

Echoing her master's tactics, she had also transformed her appearance to better blend in with the humans around them.

In her true form as a draegloth, Shar're stood an imposing seven feet tall. Her lavender skin was wrapped tightly around a robust muscular frame. With a head that strikingly resembled that of a wolf, complete with an accentuated set of canine fangs. Unlike the typical triangular ears of a wolf, hers were elongated and elf-like, stretching nearly nine inches in length. A thick mane of stark white hair flowed down her back, reaching her lower spine.

True to her species, Shar're possessed two sets of arms. The primary pair was notably larger allowing her menacingly taloned fingers to dangle by her knees. Below these, a smaller, more proportionate set of arms provided additional dexterity. Her legs were equally distinctive, sporting a digitigrade stance akin to beasts, complete with five clawed toes. Surprisingly, these toes were elongated and flexible, resembling those of a bat, allowing her to grasp objects easily or even hang upside down if desired.

For these reasons, Shar're had taken on a new identity.

Disguising her true form, she now appeared as a dark elf. While she retained her muscular physique, her height was reduced by over a foot to blend in more seamlessly. Gone was her animalistic head, replaced instead by the alluring, noble features typical of elven females. Her appearance was further enhanced by the rich bronzed skin tone she now bore and the captivating deep purple hue of her eyes. Though her hair still flowed down her back to her lower back, it had transformed from snow-white to a striking silver hue.

Despite her transformed appearance, Shar're's choice of attire remained consistent.

She was dressed in a form-fitting martial arts uniform, its colour echoing the deep hues of the ocean. Over this, she wore an armoured chest piece crafted from a material resembling tortoiseshell, highlighted with silver trim and featuring a single spaulder elegantly perched on her left shoulder. Her forearms were encased in vambraces crafted from the same unique material as her chest piece. A wide royal purple sash cinched her waist, its knot stylishly positioned on her right hip, with the ends flowing loosely. Her ensemble was completed by shin-high boots, each topped with a delicate red trim that added a final touch of intrigue to her appearance.

In contrast, her sister Valkyrie, Ryoko, did not need to make such drastic changes to her appearance.

At approximately five and a half feet tall, Ryoko was the shortest among her sisters, a fact that sometimes made her feel self-conscious about her height. Nevertheless, she shared the slender and athletic build characteristic of her siblings. Ryoko's youthful features were highlighted by her creamy skin and striking yellow-gold eyes. Her most distinctive trait was her two-toned hair – a fiery orange that darkened towards the roots. Her hair was styled in a lively, somewhat spikey manner that tumbled gracefully to her shoulders, with a single braid trailing from the right side of her head. This braid was adorned with an elegant hair clip shaped like a small golden flower, adding a refined touch to her vibrant appearance.

To conceal her sleek triangular fox ears atop her head, she adorned a light-pink kerchief featuring a crane motif. In addition, Ryoko utilized her magic to hide the seven foxtails that would typically flourish behind her, preserving an air of mystery around her true nature as a kitsune.

Ryoko's attire featured a stunning kimono, radiant in silver and gold with scarlet butterflies fluttering across the fabric. It was cinched at the waist with a pink sash wrap that elegantly secured the garment. Yet, her kimono broke from tradition; the lower left side was daringly cut off at the thigh, giving the gown a charmingly asymmetrical look. This modification not only enhanced her mobility but also allowed glimpses of the indigo bodysuit she wore underneath. Her ensemble was completed with black boots, stylishly edged with silver fur, which provided both protection and a fashionable finish to her look.

Additionally, Ryoko wore a uniquely striking accessory – a scarf crafted from an unusually long silver foxtail. The scarf was artfully looped around her neck, elegantly draped over her right shoulder, and flowed down to her hip. Complementing this, she sported a purple silk ribbon around her neck, styled like a collar, which was embellished with a small crystal bell at the front. This ensemble perfectly demonstrated the kitsune's exquisite taste and flair for style.

Each of his companions radiated a beauty that effortlessly captured the attention of onlookers. The lustful gazes of both men and women in the crowd lingered on the trio, filled with a palpable sense of envy towards the young man accompanied by his two striking escorts.

As the trio passed by, many heads turned to follow them. Several times, distracted onlookers collided with others, leading to angry shouts and commotion among the crowd.

Despite the stares directed at them, the three travelers remained unfazed. It wasn't that they hadn't noticed the attention, but rather that they simply didn't care. They continued on their way, moving along the well-trodden dirt road and passing through the empty fields that marked the outermost ring of E-Rantel.

Their destination, the tall gatehouse leading into the city's second ring, was now not far ahead.

The tall gates stood open, revealing the lower section of the portcullis suspended overhead. Below it, a dozen lightly armored men had assembled. Several in the group wielded spears with narrow diamond-shaped tips, while others held crossbows. Each man also carried an arming sword, sheathed and attached to their leather belts.

These ground forces were not the sole layer of defense.

High above them, additional guards patrolled the walls. Their heads occasionally came into view as they peered down from their elevated position. It was clear these sentinels were armed with heavy longbows and full quivers, prepared to unleash a barrage of arrows on any advancing foe.

As the throng of travelers drew nearer to the checkpoint, forward progress slowed as people were funneled through the single opening.

Continuing forward, the dragonoid and his escorts took note of the happenings ahead.

At the gate, it appeared that the majority of those who traveled on foot were allowed free passage into the city. While the guards only seemed to take interest in those who made the journey by cart and wagon.

Makes sense that they'd be searching the wagons for contraband. But why not search the people too? Maybe they're only worried about larger quantities.

On their approach, the three fell under the guard's scrutiny, and while the majority of the watchmen appeared to be content to pay them little attention. However, there was one sentinel that had a difference of opinion.

"You there!" an armoured man called out, "Step over here."

For a moment, Tiberius was not certain that the man was speaking to him. This doubt was removed when the man again repeated his words while gesturing at the trio. Thus, not wishing to seem out of place, Tiberius abided by the guardsman's instruction and together with Ryoko and Shar're left the crowd behind and approached the armed and waiting human.

"What can I do for you?" the dragonoid addressed his question to the armoured man.

The guardsman remained quiet and regarded the small group standing before him. The guard's features were weathered and his hazel eyes tired, an indication of the stress that his chosen profession had placed on him.

"I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."

"Very well, ask."

"Firstly, I'd like to know the name of yourself and those two with you."

"Of course," Tiberius responded with a quick nod, "My name is Pendragon. And these two are my companions, Ryoko and Shar're." He gestured to each in turn.

The dragonoid experienced a flicker of relief as the guard accepted his response with calm. Reflecting on it, he found the sensation odd, considering this had always been part of his strategy. Following the incident with the Kingdom's Warrior-Captain, Gazef Stronoff, it was likely that his name had been circulated among the higher ranks. Therefore, Tiberius believed it prudent to avoid using his real name to keep a low profile. He had also considered giving aliases to his Valkyrie escorts, but since no one outside of Týrnaust was aware of them, it seemed unnecessary.

Tiberius had numerous options for an alias, yet he opted for a name that carried personal significance – the name of an old friend from YGGDRASIL.

This friend was a self-titled scholar of mythology from various cultures, though he harbored a particular fascination with the legend of King Arthur. A mythical king from a distant land on the other side of the globe. Driven by his obsession, he modeled his YGGDRASIL avatar after this legendary figure, even adopting the name Pendragon.

Tiberius had often invited him to join the Sanguine Dragons, but his friend always declined, preferring to remain a solo player. His commitment was to his own creed, helping those in need without the ties of a guild.

For Tiberius, the name Pendragon was not just a fond reminder of his friend; it also held an intrinsic meaning. He recalled that Pendragon meant "Chief Dragon" or similar – a fitting alias considering he was both a leader and of dragonkin heritage. Thus, the name was not only a tribute but also a reflection of his own identity.

The guard seemed to harden his gaze before he asked his next question.

"Where are you from? And what brings you three to E-Rantel? You certainly don't have the look of a tradesman. You mercenaries?"

"We're from a kingdom far to the east called Cimmeria. And as for what brings us here, we wish to enlist with the Adventurer's Guild."

"Cimmeria, eh?" the older male regarded the younger carefully, "Can't say I have ever heard of such a place before. But if it lies in the Far East then that would mean, you have passed through Baharuth before arriving here." He cast his gaze toward the dark elf which accompanied the younger man. "And what of her? A bit unusual to see an elf traveling, let alone a dark elf. You didn't happen to acquire her in Baharuth by any chance, did you?"

Although he was unsure of the meaning behind the question. Tiberius did know that he didn't much care for the other's tone.

"Just what are you getting at?" the dragonoid replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"The ownership of a slave is illegal here in the Kingdom of Re-Estize," the veteran guardsman drew himself up and assumed a rigid posture. "So, I'll ask you again. Did you purchase her in Baharuth?"

"She is not a slave," Tiberius' response was clipped as his ire grew at the insinuation.

The Guardsman listened to the other's words and felt an odd sensation overcome him. His mouth and throat grew as parched as the plains in a drought, and a tremor coursed through his muscles. While within the pit of his stomach, he felt a sudden pang of fear and the pull as if the world had fallen out from beneath him. In the wake of this feeling, he felt oddly compelled to retreat from the stranger's vicinity.

"I-I understand," the man swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, "I didn't mean to insult. It's just my duty to find out the truth."

"Will there be anything else?" Tiberius asked with an icy tone.

"No," the guard shook his head, "You three are free to enter the city."

With a curt nod, the dragonoid turned away and began to trek back to once again rejoin the convoy of travelers. As before his two female companions retook their place at his side.

At the trio's departure, the watchmen reflexively released the collective breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding. The strange tension which had so quickly infiltrated their bodies seemed to flee just as fast. Slowly their heads turned, eyes falling onto the forms of the three strangers, and were left to ponder the meaning beyond the incident.

Passing beneath the massive portcullis, Tiberius and his escorts strode at a comfortable pace as they paced through the passage cut through the forty-foot-thick wall of stone brick. The creaking sounds of wagons echoed through the tunnel alongside the murmurs of the numerous traveler conversations. At several times the confines seemed to grow tighter as the people's desires to get out of the corridor grew, they would increase their pacing and began to crowd each other.

Most thankfully, the journey to the other side was short and Tiberius soon found himself stepping out into daylight.

Outside the tunnel, the road which they had been following continued onwards into a large open-air plaza. From there, many smaller streets branched off to snake their way through the city's innards.

Moving away from the mouth of the tunnel, Tiberius led Ryoko and Shar're to a spot out of the way of the other travelers. Lest they trigger the agitation of the others.

Here, as the dragonoid surveyed the surroundings, feelings similar to those of when he first set foot in Carne Village began to bubble up within him.

"What shall we do now, my lord?"

Shifting, Tiberius glanced over his shoulder to the draegloth in dark elf form.

So, what should we do? I guess we could head straight for the Adventurer's Guild and get started. No, the first priority should be finding a place to stay.

With a self-assured nod to himself, the dragonoid answered.

"We shall begin with finding secure lodgings to serve as our headquarters within the city."

"Ooh, does this mean we get to explore?" the kitsune asked with childlike excitement.

"Yes, I believe it does."

"Yay, exploration," Ryoko squealed in delight at the prospect of sightseeing.

This energetic reaction earned a dismissive head shake from her sister and fellow Valkyrie.

Setting forth the trio of newcomers followed the path of least resistance, trailing after the foot traffic through the square and deeper into the city.

Courtyards like this acted as a melting pot for the citizens of E-Rantel. A place where people from all walks of life come and intermingle freely.

It was very reminiscent of the old player-controlled markets back in YGGDRASIL.

The atmosphere buzzed with activity as merchants tried their best to entice potential customers to inspect their wares. Unlike the wealthier merchants with actual shops lining the streets, these traders here were not as fortunate. They might have been skilled in the art of sales, but there were reasons they set up shop in this bustling area. It could be due to the lack of variety or quality of their goods, or perhaps their financial limitations, or even a combination of all three factors.

Instead, they made do with the simple stalls allotted to them, most likely for a fee. They stood behind wooden counters, displaying whatever goods they had to offer, ready for inspection by any prospective buyer. Meanwhile, newly arrived travelers, including many farmers, found open places to park their wagons before embarking on the task of selling off their produce.

One heavyset and balding man had transformed himself into a town crier as he stood upon the cart's unpadded wooden bench seat, projecting his voice to the surrounding air. With a plethora of flowery words, he boasted about the exceptional quality of the farm-fresh produce filling his cart. Not far away, another man stood behind the counter of his stall, enthusiastically praising the exquisite flavors of the imported spices he had to offer. He emphasized the distant lands from which they came, punctuating his statements with a flurry of gestures. Besides the spice merchant's stall, two men engaged in a heated debate. It seemed that one man was dissatisfied with the price the stall owner was willing to pay for the armload of pelts he was trying to sell.

A few stalls away, a man clad in an intimidating set of dark, hardened-leather armour stood guard alongside a booth stocked with all manner of glittering jewelry. His eyes, dark and alert, constantly scanned the faces of the crowd around him, vigilant and cautious of any potential would-be thieves.

Throughout the market square, travelers would pause to inspect the goods being offered.

A husband and wife, dressed in simple clothing, strolled arm-in-arm between the stalls, occasionally pausing to converse with the stallkeepers. A middle-aged woman with dark hair held a small hourglass-shaped bottle in one hand, using her other hand to waft the aromatic vapors of its contents towards a younger woman. Standing just behind the younger redhead was an older man with a thick mustache, wearing an expression that seemed to blend boredom and irritation.

Meanwhile, some appeared to be merely enjoying a leisurely afternoon stroll, paying little attention to the various goods surrounding them. One finely dressed man with flowing blonde hair moved at a relaxed pace, barely sparing a glance at the stalls. Following closely behind this haughty individual were a pair of burly bodyguards clad in metal breastplates with chain mail undershirts. Their stern expressions suggested that they were not ones to tolerate any nonsense.

For a first-time visitor, there was plenty to take in.

However, the dragonoid took everything in stride. Compared to the chaos of corporate trading floors or the pressure of interdepartmental executive meetings, the bustling marketplace seemed almost serene. Even the crowded and refuse-filled streets he had to navigate, all the while avoiding attracting the attention of numerous street gangs, paled in comparison to his previous experiences.

This could be counted as one of the most peaceful times he'd had the pleasure of experiencing.

The trio weaved through the crowd of interested onlookers and potential customers before departing the busy marketplace. Moving along what seemed to be the main thoroughfare the three strode deeper into the city.

The road, just as had been the plaza, was made of hard-packed earth impregnated with flagstones of a large variety of sizes and shapes. This was not the typical smooth cobblestone paths that the YGGDRASIL designers seemed so fond of using throughout its cities and towns.

Although hard-packed, the ground was still just earth, and its surface bore a myriad of impressions. There were shoe prints from typical common shoes, alongside dual indents left by boots, and crescent-shaped imprints of iron horseshoes. Intersecting these were the furrows left in the wake of the many wagons, carriages, and carts that traversed the area. At the lowest points of these furrows, pools of water gathered, forming muddy trenches.

As per his role, Tiberius led his companions through the streets of this foreign city. The casual pace at which they strode gave the dragonoid plenty of time to study the scenery.

From the intelligence reports that had been provided to him, E-Rantel was a major trade hub for the region. This meant that there was a wide variety of shops present, and many of these seemed to be catered toward a particular type of goods. Not too surprisingly, there were a fair number of them that appeared to target mercenaries and adventurers as their chosen customers.

A variety of armour and weaponry sat proudly on stands in windows as advertisements of a blacksmith's services.

A sign emblazoned with a cauldron and bottles, the nigh universal symbol for herbalists and alchemists alike. From the partially opened doors wafted a wide assortment of odd odours, from sweet and sour to plain noxious.

As they continued along the road, Tiberius noted the peculiarly high number of these shops when compared to the others. A fact which he attributed to the flow of the many fresh ingredients into the city from the surrounding lands.

This, however, did not mean that the common folk were left wanting.

A lengthy line of citizens was queued up outside of a bakery, the various sweet desserts and loaves of bread on display in the window. Whenever a customer would exit the shop, a delicious aroma of baked sweets would permeate the air outside.

Further along, a group of four men emerged from what appeared to be a tavern. One of the men had his arms slung over the shoulders of two of the others. He'd done this so as to steady his movements as he strode on wobbling legs. The quartet had barely left the premises before they began to sing a rather bawdy and, unfortunately, dreadfully off-key limerick. Though they paid no mind to the looks such a song earned them as they carried on down the street, reveling in their drunken merriment.

The city streets provided no shortage of distractions for the dragonoid and his companions. Although Tiberius found his focus frequently shifting between them in rapid succession. However, amongst them, there was something that managed to capture his attention longer than the rest. It was the happy sounds of eager children, which judging by the growing volume was fast approaching.

True enough, a gaggle of youngsters soon rounded the corner of a nearby alleyway. They came as an on-rushing troupe with a frenzy of laughter, and hurriedly past the trio on their journey to somewhere else.

Intrigued as to what could have prompted such a jovial reaction, Tiberius soon found himself following their trail.

With the two Valkyries in tow, the dragonoid reversed course, guiding them back the way they had come. When the children disappeared around a corner, the three did so too. It was then that he was able to finally see what caused such a stir amongst the kids.

Halfway down the city block, a sizable crowd of both children and older adolescents had gathered around a man and his cart.

The man seemed rather ordinary, standing at an average height with a slight pudge around his midsection. His copper-coloured hair reached his shoulders with ease, partially covered by a lopsided and wide-brimmed straw hat atop his head. Stray strands of hair would occasionally flutter in the breeze and land upon his face, but he quickly brushed them away and returned them to their proper place. Despite his unremarkable appearance, his face bore a large and warm smile as he observed the group of gathered children.

It wasn't the man who captured his attention, but rather the cart before him.

The cart was roughly six feet long and about three feet tall, crafted from metal instead of wood, and fashioned into a box-like structure. It had two large hinged panels on top for easy access. The cart was supported by two pairs of wheels, with the rear pair being almost twice the size of the front set. Its body was painted in a candy-stripe motif of red and white. At each corner stood a thin, gleaming pole that held up a canopy made of grass-green fabric, providing shade and cover.

As the man opened the lid of the cart, the children's excitement grew. One by one, they extended their arms, each holding a small object - coins of some kind - which they eagerly offered to the man.

Bending forward, the man accepted a coin from one of the kids and dropped it through a slot on the top of the cart, producing a gentle clinking sound. He reached into the opening to retrieve a paper cup filled with shaved ice. Next, he pulled up a bottle of liquid from his side of the cart and poured its contents over the icy treat, transforming the white flakes into a vibrant blue color. With the treat now ready, he handed it to the eagerly waiting recipient.

With an eager smile and a cry of gratitude, the children took the paper cup in hand and set to devouring the confectionery delight as they moved aside.

This sequence repeated several times as another youth stepped forward to place their money in the man's hand and receive a frozen treat. Not only did the man offer shaved ice, but he also had ice cream and even bars of chocolate on offer.

Watching the scene, Tiberius was left puzzled by the variety of treats available.

Just what was something like this doing in this world?

In a medieval fantasy world full of terrifying monsters, gallant knights, powerful mages, simple village folk, and horse-drawn wagons, these modern delights stood out as a stark contrast against the traditional backdrop.

While it seemed within the realm of possibility that someone somewhere may have experimented with adding flavoured juice to ice. Maybe even using magic to create ice for a year-round treat. These were prospects that Tiberius was willing to believe.

Yet, for them to have crafted a design so strikingly similar to the countless ones he had seen in YGGDRASIL's markets, that was a notion he found hard to accept as mere coincidence.

As he pondered these possibilities, his thoughts drifted back to the mages from the Slane Theocracy. Their mastery of YGGDRASIL magics, the capability to summon powerful creatures like the Archangel Flame, and that mysterious sealing crystal their leader had been so enthusiastic about. Sadly, their premature deaths had left him with a plethora of questions, and very few answers.

"My lord," the kitsune's playful tone interrupted his thoughts, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, master. You look troubled," Shar're shared her own thoughts on his appearance.

"It's nothing. Just a stray thought is all."

The two Valkyries exchanged disbelieving glances before turning and following the dragonoid's gaze to the human and his unique cart.

"Does it have to do with that human and his frozen confections?" Ryoko inquired with a cock of her head, while the tale-tell twitch of her fox ears could be seen beneath the kerchief she wore.

"Has he offended you, my lord?" the changed draegloth asked in a serious tone.

"What?" Tiberius eyed her queerly, "No, nothing like that."

"Oh, I know," Ryoko chirped enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across her lips, "Maybe the master wants one. Don't worry, I'll get it!" she seemed to sing.

The kitsune merrily skipped along for several paces before she found a firm hand gripping the collar of her kimono. Then with a tug, she was turned about to find her gaze filled with the stern-looking face of her fellow Valkyrie.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Ryoko bemoaned, puzzled as to why Shar're had stopped her, "I was just going to get one of those icy treats for the master."

The dark elf shook her head with an exasperated sigh, "Do you really think that is what the master wants?"

"Well…" the kitsune's golden eyes shifted as she focused her gaze on the nearby dragonoid.

Again, the draegloth-turned-dark-elf sighed.

Ryoko watched as her warrior sister pivoted and moved away to retake her place at their master's side. With a glance back at the cheerful kids as they indulged themselves in their chilly treats, she followed suit and joined the Shar're.

Tiberius eyed the unusual cart one final time before he turned away and once more resumed his journey through the city's interior.

Striding along the street, things were not as they had been before. It seemed that the encounter with the man and his cart had again brought Tiberius' focus back to the incongruities present within this world. In the process, it was like someone had turned on a light and this in turn highlighted them more than ever.

Between two buildings stood what looked to be a vending machine with several young men gathered around the dispenser. In their hands were vaguely hourglass-shaped glass bottles containing a dark liquid that they seemed to be enjoying by the mouthful.

Through the window of a shop, its patrons could be seen partaking in their chosen meals. A small group of adolescents looked to be happily enjoying a hamburger and a side order of fries. At another table sat a young woman who was spooling a length of spaghetti onto her fork before depositing it into her waiting mouth.

A couple of streets down from there a middle-aged man exited from a tailor's shop. He was dressed in a fine new suit. However, this was not some frock of finery befitting a citizen of a medieval upbringing. Instead, the man wore a charcoal grey pinstripe business suit that none in a typical office setting would have second-guessed.

And so, this is how it went. The more he looked, the more he seemed to find that appeared conspicuously out of place.

So enthralled with studying his surroundings that he'd completely forgotten the first rule of moving around in public.

Always watch where you're going.

The impact was sudden and jarring. At least it was for the young woman now lying sprawled out on the earth. Then with a groan, she propped herself up with her hands and glared up at the offender.

"Hey! Why don't you watch where you're going!"

Hearing the irate feminine voice, Tiberius shifted, inclining his head as he looked down at the individual he'd managed to anger.

A young woman in her twenties glared up at him, her skin bronzed from spending ample time outdoors. Her face boasted fetching features, with a light sprinkling of freckles adorning her cheeks. Her aqua-colored eyes held a serious stare, yet they sparkled with a glimmer of light. The coolness of her gaze contrasted with the short and tousled crop of scarlet hair atop her head.

The young woman's attire made it easy to deduce her occupation – she was an adventurer.

She donned a vest made of hardened leather over a form-fitting, earth-toned long-sleeved tunic, accentuating the well-defined musculature of her arms. Interestingly, the fingers of her elbow-length gloves had been removed, presumably for increased dexterity. A thick leather belt adorned her waist, holding several small pouches that produced a soft clinking sound with each movement. On her left hip, a single-handed arming sword rested in a plain brown sheath, positioned alongside her leg. Her trousers were a rich coffee color, padded at both the thigh and knee for added protection. Her near-knee-high boots were a slightly lighter shade, secured by a pair of bronze clasps. However, the most intriguing accessory she wore was a small iron tag dangling from a thin silver chain around her neck.

"I apologize, I was just…" the girl on the ground showed no interest in hearing out his reasons as she continued to fix him with a hard stare, "I'm sorry. Here, let me help you up."

Leaning down, Tiberius offered an outstretched hand to the young woman.

She cautiously regarded his outstretched hand for a moment before finally reaching out and accepting the helping hand. The speed and ease with which he pulled her back onto her feet caught the woman off guard.

Upon reflection, she realized that it shouldn't have been too surprising. During the collision, it had felt as if she had collided with a brick wall. While she had been knocked to the ground, the other person had remained entirely unfazed by the incident. In fact, he appeared completely oblivious to anything happening until she yelled at him.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

The young woman seemed to bristle at the word, "Brita. The name's Brita, and yeah, I'm fine."

Again on her feet, Brita set to ridding herself of dust that had clung to her from the street. Finishing that, she turned her attention to one of the pouches on her belt. She gripped the bag carefully, feeling its contents, and let out a small sigh of relief.

"Well, everything seems all right," she said and gave the pouch a satisfied pat. She then shifted her focus to eye the three strangers standing before her, "So, what's your story?"

"We're new in E-Rantel, came here after hearing about the Adventurer's Guild. Decided we'd like to join the guild." Tiberius bowed his head to the woman, "Again, I apologize for the incident."

"Yeah, yeah, apology accepted," Brita waved off his words, "So, you wanna be adventurers, huh? Well, I'd say you've certainly got the look down. But it takes more than just equipment to be an adventurer."

She eyed the trio's leader carefully.

Though, if that impact is anything to go by he's probably pretty strong. And those girls, there's something about them…

Shaking the thought, Brita continued, "Since I don't see any tags around your necks. I take it you three haven't been to the guild yet?"

Tiberius nodded.

"How come?"

"Well, it's been a long journey getting here. So I thought it best that we find some lodgings first before we visit the guild." The dragonoid paused, changing his tone to sound more disheartened, "Unfortunately, I'm afraid we don't know the layout of the city and have gotten a bit off track. And I'm not sure where we should go from here."

"Lost, eh?" Brita smirked, "Well, I guess I can help you out with that…" So with a mix of hand gestures and verbal instructions, the red-haired adventurer imparted the necessary directions to the three. "Think you can find your way now?"

"Yes," the dragonoid nodded, "Thank you."

"Good," Brita replied, "Though you should know that the innkeeper might give you some hassle since none of you have a guild crest. So I suggest you get that taken care of soon."

"We shall. Thank you again for the assistance."

Brita gave a sharp nod of her head, "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

She strode past the three and continued on her path to wherever her chosen destination lay. When she had reached the street corner, the redhead paused and twisted at the waist, and gave a brief wave before she disappeared from view and around the corner.

The woman's departure was judiciously watched by the two female companions.

"My lord," Ryoko spoke up, an inquisitive expression on her face, "Why did you pay respects to that human woman?"

"Yeah, should it not have been her to apologize? She was the one who imposed herself into your path," Shar're commented.

Turning the dragonoid regarded his Valkyrie escorts as he took in their words. Given the high esteem in which he was held by the NPCs, Tiberius held doubts that they would be willing to accept his word that it was his fault. So, as an alternative, he decided to do a little creative editing.

"I assessed it to be the fastest way to draw out the information I desired from the young lady."

"Mmhmm," was all the dark elf had to say.

"To draw out information with only a few honeyed words," Ryoko giggled enthusiastically, "These humans are such simple creatures."

Tiberius didn't reply, and instead, proceeded to follow the instructions he'd been given by Brita.

It took roughly five minutes of walking for the trio to arrive at their destination. Now, the three found themselves standing outside of a rather unremarkable stone building.

The structure sat on the corner of a four-way intersection, appearing as plain as any other building along the way. It was only the sign that hung over the door that provided any hint as to what sort of establishment lay within. The windows were speckled with dirt and half were shuttered and in front of the saloon-styled doors a rise of four steps.

Yet it was as Tiberius had expected for he'd encountered this sort of thing in every MMORPG he'd ever played. In gaming terms, this would be considered the starting inn.

In essence, this was the type of place where players would gather, form their parties, and embark on their adventures. As they progressed through their campaign and gained prestige, the adventurers would gain access to better and more exclusive inns to stay at. These higher-tier inns came with added perks and special services. They served as rallying points for parties to rest and collaborate with others, provided valuable information for quests, and featured high-end merchants on-site for players to replenish, repair, and upgrade their gear. At endgame levels, players could even acquire rare and unique items from these establishments.

However, that was a game and Tiberius had a suspicion that the reality would not be quite as cliched.

I guess we should start here like everyone else. But… The dragonoid stood several yards out staring up at the building. But why? I mean it's not like I am some level 1 rookie looking to form a party and begin an adventure.

With this in his mind, Tiberius eyed those steps before him and turned away.

This attracted the attention of his female companions and sensing their impending questions he spoke.

"I don't believe this place is suitable for our purposes," his steely blue eyes surveyed the paths open to them. "No doubt there are superior establishments in this city. And one of them would better suit our needs."

This sentiment earned a series of nods of agreement.

"I concur wholeheartedly, my lord," the kitsune proclaimed her feelings on the subject, "This place couldn't possibly host an individual of your magnificence."

"Indeed, I must agree with my sister," Shar're spoke up. Her focus shifted at the sound of the ruckus coming from within the building. "This hovel is most assuredly not suitable for you."

Taking their approval of his decision, the dragonoid chose an arbitrary direction and set off. While casually strolling along the street, his eyes continually scanned the numerous signs that hung over the many doors.

While some possessed a form of writing, whether painted or engraved, adorning the surface of the wooden plaques. It was, however, meaningless to the dragonoid who had no comprehension of what amounted to a bunch of undecipherable lines to his eyes.

Luckily for them, the majority appeared to forego the use of writing for basic and understandable pictures. Still, while these made it far easier to guess as to what the purpose of these places was. It didn't necessarily convey the quality of what services they provided and for all the reports he'd read through in his study, none of them contained such information.

Fortunately, there was a simple facet to city life that could provide a solution. There were plenty of people to ask.

Coming to a stop, the trio found themselves standing on the side of a rather busy thoroughfare. Foot traffic continued to flow on either side of the street while a myriad of carriages rattled down the road.

"Excuse me," Tiberius spoke in an attempt to gain the attention of one individual.

However, this is where another aspect of city life, unfortunately, proved itself true, even in this other world. City inhabitants don't routinely interact with or care for the problems of others.

Again and again, he repeated his question, only to be met with grunts of indignation or waves of ambivalence in return.

Getting nowhere with the older generation, the dragonoid chose to try his luck with one of the youths.

"You there," he gestured to a gangly dark-haired teen.

The adolescent paused in his stride at being called out by the unknown voice. He pivoted on his heel as he sought to locate the speaker. When he spotted the trio of strangers approaching the teen immediately put his back to the group and strode back the way he had come.

It was a response that the dragonoid was familiar with and had been expecting to receive. However, the lad's reaction did not bode well with the disposition of the two Valkyries. Perceiving the action as a show of disrespect it could not go unanswered. As such the pair acted before their master could say otherwise.

Utilizing their superior abilities, Shar're and Ryoko rushed toward the departing teenager. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, the two stood to either side of the boy, entrapping him.

The teen was taken aback as he found himself suddenly hemmed in by the two unknown women and backpedaled quite rapidly. As a consequence of this, the teen easily lost his footing on the earth and stone street. Stumbling over a flagstone the teen toppled to the ground, his face contorted with a mix of surprise and fear as he gawked up at the females that blocked his path.

"My you are a rude one," the flame-haired kitsune clicked her tongue, her yellow-gold eyes narrowed dangerously as she stared down at the adolescent.

"W-wha… what do you want?"

His brown eyes shifted to the dark elf who took a step closer, "Indeed. Such insolence must be punished." She hissed before her arm surged forward, her hand opened and fingers splayed, ready to grasp him.

The teen braced himself and held his arms out to shield him. Yet nothing came of it, he felt no fingers closing on his forearm. Tentatively his eyelids parted and he looked up at the shaggy-haired young man who stood before him. The stranger had imposed himself between the teen and the two women, and his hand gripping the forearm of the dark elf.

Tiberius held Shar're's arm with a firm grip, his steely eyes locking with her violet orbs for a long moment. The meaning of the stare was clear and Shar're lowered her head in submission.

"I'm sorry about that," Tiberius spoke to the downed youth, "My companions and I were merely trying to get your attention."

"You bloody well have it now," the adolescent's irritation was clear.

Releasing his grasp on the Valkyrie, the dragonoid turned to face the lad. "Do you need a hand?"

The young teen shook his head before proceeding to get up, "So what d'ya want?"

"We're new to the city and were wondering if you knew where the best place to stay might be."

He eyed the trio, "That depends."

"Depends on what?"

A sly grin spread across the teen's face as he raised his hand and rubbed his thumb against forefingers.

"On how much coin you're willing to part with."

The features of the two females grew taught with annoyance at the human's haughtiness to think that he could make demands of their master. Yet as much as they desired to punish the human boy. Neither acted as to do so would only serve to displease their master.

Choosing to ignore the teen's ply at a quick grift, Tiberius squared his shoulders and advanced on him, "Coin is not a problem. However, we would much appreciate your aid."

"Yeah, sure," the lad took a mighty step back, "You're looking for a place to stay, right? Well, everyone knows the classiest inn in all E-Rantel is the Shining Golden Pavilion."

Shifting on his heel, the dark-haired youth raised his arm and gestured deeper into the city.

"The Shining Golden Pavilion, eh?"

This was a name that held a brief semblance of familiarity, perhaps something he half-remembered from a report he'd read.

"Thank you for your assistance."

No sooner had their business concluded than the lad took his leave. Spinning about, he sprinted away down the street, nearly knocking over a man who was in the process of loading a large crate into his wagon.

As to be expected, the situation provoked a response from his escorts.

"Master," Ryoko bemoaned in a childlike manner, "Why did you stop Shar're from disciplining that impertinent human?"

"Yeah, such a blatant show of insolence, and in your presence no less! It deserves to be justly punished."

The dragonoid sighed.

"Under normal circumstances, I would have agreed with you two. However, as we are here under the guise of adventurers. As such I doubt the citizenry would approve if we were to harm anyone."

Besides, that kind of attitude is to be expected in a city. Though I doubt I could get them to understand that.

Tiberius shifted his gaze between the pair.

"So for the time being. Take no actions against the humans unless otherwise directed, understood?"

"Yes, Lord Tiberius," the dark elf bowed her head.

"Yuppers," Ryoko smiled and saluted.

With a quick nod, the dragonoid turned away and set forth in the direction the teenager had indicated.

Along the way, the trio encountered a series of delays.

Amid the commotion, an overturned wagon had gathered a curious crowd of onlookers. However, not everyone was merely there out of curiosity. With the wagon's cargo scattered on the ground and its owner engaged in a heated argument with another man, some from the crowd couldn't resist the temptation. Stealthily, they stepped forward to snatch something from the street before blending back into the crowd. Among those prominent in this act were children, easily recognizable as street urchins by their tattered clothing.

A chaotic scene unfolded as a drunken brawl spilled out from a nearby tavern. Seven men engaged in a wild and unruly fight, seemingly oblivious to the consequences of their actions. Spectators couldn't help but gawk at the display of poor behavior. Thankfully, the authorities swiftly intervened, with armoured men arriving on the scene to disperse the scuffle and restore order.

And, of course, there were the ever-present groups of people who seemed content to just stand around as if they had nothing better to do. In his old life, Tiberius had held a particular dislike for such individuals. Few things were more aggravating during a lengthy commute to work than people who loitered and caused delays for others.

After enduring these delays, the trio finally arrived at their destination.

The Shining Golden Pavilion was an L-shaped structure, with the foot of the "L" extending forward to serve as the entrance, and it consisted of six levels. To the right of the entrance, another building of equal height but rectangular in shape was connected to the main structure through an arched walkway. On the opposite side, there stood a smaller, boxier building that appeared to be made up of three levels and was connected by an enclosed corridor.

The stone exterior of the building's lowest level had been left bare, while the upper portion of the inn had been given a decorative coat of whitewash. The window glass possessed an almost sapphire-like hue and was framed in dark-stained and lacquered wood. In addition to these large and crystalline windows, there were also a pair of glass patio doors and a small balcony. Each balcony provided standing room only, with enough space for perhaps two people, and was surrounded by a decorative wrought-iron railing. Above all this was the roof adorned with fiery orange terracotta tiles, reminiscent of the sky at sunset.

It was a far more impressive sight than that of the previous inn.

Well, no point in just standing out here.

The dragonoid shrugged and stepped into the street as he and his companions crossed.

On their approach, the trio watched as a well-dressed man with greying hair rode on horseback toward the entrance. The man's mount came to a graceful halt, and a young man with blonde hair, clad in simple attire, stepped forward to assist the elder in dismounting from the horse. The older man seemed uninterested in the young man's assistance, merely handing over the reins before striding away. Leaving the other to lead the equine away and around the corner. Perhaps this establishment provided a stabling service for their guests.

Upon arriving at the entrance, Tiberius paused for a moment and took the time to examine the sign which hung near the doors. On the signboard's surface was the same unfamiliar writing, he'd seen before set over the backdrop of the golden sun rising above the horizon.

Unfortunately, this sudden hesitation before entering the building resulted in a level of misinterpretation by his escorts.

For as he stopped, the two Valkyries continued forward to the doors. The dark elf and the kitsune each took hold of one of the door handles and opened the way for him. Amusingly, while Shar're stood stoically in duty, Ryoko performed with a more theatrical flourish, sweeping her arm out she bowed and beckoned her master inside.

A gracious nod was the least he could offer to the pair as Tiberius strode through the entrance.

As expected, the building's interior exuded luxury, just as the impromptu guide had praised.

The foyer walls were adorned with lacquered cherry wood, and the floor boasted polished granite. Long rugs of royal blue with gold trim adorned the speckled grey stone, leading the way to the main lobby. Here, the lacquered wood transitioned into earthen-toned wallpaper adorned with an intricate scrollwork pattern along the edges of each sheet.

To the left of the lobby, a corridor mirrored the entryway. On the opposite end, rows of dining tables dressed in pristine white tablecloths were visible.

Straight ahead, the foyer opened to a grand staircase adorned with gilded statues instead of the typical banister endcap. The stairs gracefully followed the inn's walls in a spiral-like design. From above, a crystal chandelier bathed the stairs in a radiant beam of golden light.

Positioned at the foot of the staircase was a reception desk. Its presence stood out against grandiose surroundings and gave the impression of being rather plain.

The office desk was simple, made of wood panels with a speckled marbled countertop that matched the floor's design. On top of the stone counter, various ordinary objects were neatly arranged. In the right corner, a double-stacked paper tray held documents awaiting attention, while nearby, a loose stack of pages seemed ready for review. A quill rested in its holder, accompanied by a small round bottle of black ink with a flip-style lid. The centerpiece of the desk was a substantial leather-bound book, about two inches thick, likely the inn's ledger containing information on past and current guests.

Behind the desk, a wall adorned with minute brass hooks caught the eye, each accompanied by a shining golden bell. Surprisingly, there seemed to be no apparent means of ringing these bells. Some hooks remained empty, while others displayed bronze keys. Attached to the tail end of each key was a short silver chain, with a small honey-colored lacquered wooden block hanging from it. These blocks likely bore the imprints of room numbers.

To the left of the hooks, a plain door stood, and beside it, an equal number of little nooks were affixed. Each nook held a polished brass plate inscribed with the same etchings found on the keychains. Many of these alcoves were filled with rolls of parchment, sealed envelopes, or other small parcels.

Behind the desk stood a man in his mid to late thirties, with dark swept-back hair. His head was bowed, engrossed in the opened ledger before him. The sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention, and he lifted his gaze, his blue-green eyes taking on a disdainful look as he beheld the trio of newcomers approaching him.

The man closed the book and raised his head. The stern expression that he wore was enhanced by his dark facial cut into a stylized goatee.

"May I help you?"

The man spoke in a flat manner that spoke of his disinterest. Then as if to further emphasize his aloof demeanor, the innkeeper dusted his jacket's front and straightened his cuffs.

"Yes," the shaggy-haired group leader answered, "We're looking for a place to stay and would like a room."

The other's gaze shifted as he scanned over the three individuals standing before him. He let out a short hmmph then casually cast his eyes back to the desk.

"Well, I believe you'll find there are plenty of inns to choose from within the city. And I am sure one of them will suit the needs of your group."

Once more, his behavior was not surprising. In a world existing in a quasi-medieval state, class divides were to be anticipated. Combined with their appearance as adventurers, and lower-leveled ones at that, it was evident that this man believed them to be beneath the establishment's desired status.

Tiberius regarded the man for a moment and disregarded his statement.

"How much for a room?"

The question prompted the innkeeper to raise one of his thin dark eyebrows as he continued to stare at the other man. It seemed he was attempting to find a suitably discouraging answer.

"Three gold will afford you the room for a week."

"And how much to rent the room indefinitely?"

At hearing the younger man's inquiry an expression of incredulity settled over the innkeeper's features.

"Now listen here young man, I…"

He responded with a disgruntled tone; however, his words were quickly quieted by the sound of a thud and numerous jingling clinks.

Immediately, he directed his eyes downwards, to eye a sack that now sat atop the heavy ledger on the desk. The sack a slightly larger than a clenched fist and fashioned of blue velvet with a fine strand of silk rope that held the top closed.

Quirking his brow, the innkeeper's gaze shifted between the sack and the shaggy-haired young man who had placed it there.

With some hesitance, he reached out and carefully pulled the bag closer to himself, surprised by the resistance he felt. This became more apparent as he hefted the sack into his free hand. With a light tug on the silken cord, the tight hold over the bag's opening was released, and it was allowed to open. Placing his hand inside the sack, he felt around its contents, focusing on a multi-faceted object that he closed his hand around before withdrawing it.

As his fist cleared the opening of the cloth sack, he uncurled his fingers and beheld the object lying in his palm.

It was a gemstone, sparkling in a stunning hue of blue beneath the room's lighting, about the size of a child's eye.

The man's previously tightened features grew slack, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the precious stone in his hand. He hardly blinked, afraid to take his eyes off the gem lest it disappear. When his curiosity overcame this impulse, he hurriedly tucked the gemstone back into the bag from whence it came and produced another in its place. This time, it was a scarlet-colored rectangular gem, the size of his thumb, and again, he gawked awestruck. However, this time he didn't gaze at it for long and quickly replaced it in the blue velvet sack. When he withdrew his hand again, he held something different. It was not a gemstone; instead, it was a small ingot, two and a half inches long and a quarter of an inch thick, made of solid gold.

As the man seemingly caught sight of his reflection in the polished metallic surface, he was struck with a sudden jolt, as if he had only now become aware of the world around him. In response, the innkeeper hurriedly plunged his fist with the gold ingot back into the sack. His blue-green eyes darted about the room as he lifted the bag and clutched it to his chest.

"Please, excuse me for a moment."

Without delay, the man stepped back from the reception desk and proceeded through the door behind him.

As the innkeeper slipped through the doorway, Tiberius watched him go with a smug grin.

While a normal person would've lamented the loss of such a trove of treasure. It was a trivial matter for the Master of Týrnaust as there was plenty more to be had within the vault of his mountain home.

His choice of baubles in the bag was influenced by his initial visit to Carne. Chief Wyllam and his wife had warned him that using YGGDRASIL gold in this world could attract unwanted attention. Thus, he had limited his selection to objects that would be more common or harder to trace back to him if scattered around.

Yet, he was well aware that not all merchants might accept gems as payment. With this in mind, he made a brief stop at the Smithery, where the skilled brothers Oddr and Randr cast the miniature ingots from the plethora of gold ore in the vault. This provided him with alternative means of exchange, ensuring his dealings remained discreet.

The dragonoid couldn't help but find irony in his brief visits to the human village. Despite spending such a short time there, he had gleaned a wealth of knowledge that continued to influence his actions.

The innkeeper's absence was short-lived, as the door burst open with a powerful force, saved only by the doorstopper. The dark-haired man reappeared from the corridor, and a stark change in his demeanor was immediately evident.

Gone was the callous and contemptuous judgment he had previously displayed. Now, his expression was one of joy and enthusiastic excitement. The brightness in his eyes grew even more pronounced as he returned to the reception desk, where the young man and his two female companions stood.

"Welcome!" the man threw his arms wide as an equally wide smile crested his face, "Welcome, welcome most honoured guests, to the Shining Golden Pavilion Inn."

No doubt he had the bag's contents authenticated. I bet it came as a big surprise to him. Tiberius smirked to himself. Good to see that there are some universal constants, no matter the universe.

The innkeeper lowered his arms and straightened his shirt, "Now then, what was it that you wanted?" he rubbed his hands together, "Oh yes! That's right, you were looking for a room. Well, then, let me see…"

He turned shifted, turning his focus to the hefty ledger on the desk. Opening the cover, the man flipped through what seemed to be at least a quarter of the book's pages before stopping. Placing a finger at the top of the page, he slowly drew it down along the rows of writing.

"Hmm," his eyes skimmed over the information scribbled across it, "Ah-ha."

The man turned away and moved to the wall of hooks and keys. Reaching up, he plucked a bronze key from one of the topmost rows, and then with a smile he turned back to the trio.

"Here we go," he said, "This is the key to one of our high-class suites. I hope this will be acceptable."

Extending his arm, Tiberius held out an open hand for the other man to place the key, "Thank you, I believe we'd like to see this room for ourselves."

"Of course," the innkeeper turned to the still-opened doorway behind him and called out, "Arona!"

Answering the summons, a woman named Arona emerged from the passage to join her employer.

Arona stood at an average height with a well-defined and full figure, particularly accentuated around her bustline. Her head was adorned with a thick mane of long auburn-colored hair, which possessed a slight wave texture. Her face was lightly made up, with classic red lipstick adding fullness to her lips, a touch of blush giving her creamy skin tone a subtle rosy hue, and a smear of eyeshadow enhancing the smoldering look of her hazel eyes.

She wore a relatively simple outfit, consisting of an open-top strapless gown in the color of golden wheat, gracefully hanging down to her ankles. The gown's sleeves were short, reaching from the shoulder to the elbow. Around her midriff, she donned a bodice made of soft tanned leather, accentuating her slender waistline and providing an additional lift to her already impressive bust, creating the illusion of it being even larger.

"My good sir, may I introduce, Arona," the dark-haired innkeeper gestured to the newly arrived woman at his side.

Leaving the man's side, Arona strode around from the side of the reception desk with a deliberate swish of her hips. A delicate motion that did well to create an almost entrancing wobble in her heavy bosom.

"Good day to you sir…" the auburn-haired beauty spoke with a soft tone.

"Pendragon," Tiberius responded.

"Yes, now. Arona, would you be so kind as to show Mister Pendragon and his companions to their room?"

"Of course," the maid-dressed woman curtseyed to her well-dressed employer.

Rising she looked at the shaggy-haired young man before her.

"May I see your key?"

Without a word, the dragonoid extended his arm and handed off the bronze key to the female attendant. Who upon receiving the key examined the lacquered slip of wood hanging from the silver chain.

As she read the number engraved in the wood, her eyes appeared to widen and shine in the light. Her plump lips twitched and were pulled upward into a wide smile as she turned her gaze to the youthful male.

"This way, please," Arona said as she turned and gestured for the trio to follow.

As she moved away, Tiberius soon fell in behind the attractive woman and did his best to keep his eyes off the woman before him, while his two escorts followed in his wake.

Together, they left the check-in desk behind and began ascending the grand staircase. Arona led the way, her curvaceous form catching the dragonoid's eye as the elevation change provided him with a prime view.

From time to time, she would slow her pace and pivot at her waist to ensure the trio was following. During these moments, Tiberius couldn't help but notice the graceful bounce of her bust with each step. However, his amazement was not for the reasons one might think. Rather, he was surprised that despite her low-cut and seemingly delicate gown, nothing spilled out into his full view. Not that he would have objected to such a wardrobe mishap if it happened. On the contrary, he suspected from her subtle glances and body language that Arona wouldn't have minded either. It almost seemed as if she were deliberately teasing him.

Continuing their ascent, the group climbed the staircase, passing the second, third, and fourth floors until they finally reached the topmost level.

As they reached the landing, they stepped into a long and elegant hallway that stretched across the floor. Dark wood panels adorned the walls, accentuating the richness of the amber-coloured doors that lined the passage. The plush pale blue carpet underfoot offered a soft and welcoming feel, and evenly spaced crystalline chandeliers hung gracefully from the ceiling, casting a warm and gentle glow.

With a purposeful stride, they advanced through the hall, their steps cushioned by the luxurious carpet, until they reached the door at the end of the passage.

"Ah, here we are," Arona spoke with a giddy tone.

The bronze key was inserted into the lock and turned to produce a telltale click and the door was soon opened.

True to her role as a gracious host, Arona entered first, crossing the threshold and entering the room beyond with a touch of flair. Her arm rose gracefully as she spun, gesturing with poise to the space around her. During her movements, the lower half of her gown swirled, revealing a glimpse of her shapely legs.

The room beyond the door, while spacious and inviting, couldn't rival the opulence of his quarters back in Týrnaust.

The floor boasted a rich coffee-colored wood, accentuated by several area rugs, each featuring unique and vibrant designs. Geometric patterns and blended forms wove a tapestry of artistry on the floor. The walls, adorned in soft eggshell-colored wallpaper akin to the lobby's, exuded a more delicate hue, creating a soothing atmosphere. Paintings of various sizes adorned the walls, from small pieces resembling loaves of bread to larger ones comparable to a substantial table.

Opposite the entry, double doors led to a small, charming balcony.

On the left side of the entrance, a shallow nook housed the majestic head of a grand four-poster bed draped in emerald curtains that cascaded gracefully between each post. Exquisite, intricately carved nightstands stood on either side of the bed, each holding a glowing crystal obelisk that emitted a soft, enchanting light.

The room's centerpiece was the duo of Victorian-style sofas occupying the center, their wooden frames lavishly adorned with gold leaf, harmonizing beautifully with the scarlet cushions. Nestled between the sofas, a low table matched their length, offering an elegant spot to convene. Apart from these, only two other pieces of furniture graced the room. A simple writing desk stood nearby, close to the balcony doors, providing a cozy spot for work or contemplation. Adjacent to the entrance, a tall wardrobe offered ample space for guests' clothing, completing the room's tasteful and functional arrangement.

Of the trio, only Tiberius had entered the room where he moved about the space and examined the décor. Shar're and Ryoko, meanwhile, seemed to be content with just waiting by the door.

As for their guide, Arona trailed in the wake of the shaggy-haired young man. Her hands clasped behind her back and a playful smirk on her face.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

"It certainly is."

The dragonoid's words weren't so much an outright lie. But more of a half-truth.

If the room was to be judged purely on the standards of this world, then indeed it would be quite the splendor for an inn. A luxury that many in this world could only dream of one day being able to experience.

However, when likened to the majesty of his mountain home, these lodgings could only pale in comparison. But, of course, he could not say so and had answered Arona's question as he did.

"Well, please, allow me to show you some of its finer features."

Tiberius observed as she confidently crossed the room, heading towards the far wall. Once there, she turned abruptly to face the trio of guests again. With a radiant smile, she extended her arm, placed her hand on the wall, and pressed against it.

A soft click followed, and a rectangular block sprung out from the formerly smooth surface. Gripping the block, she gave it a turn until it was perpendicular to its previous position. As she rotated the hidden doorknob, a camouflaged door was revealed, opening to unveil a concealed room.

Intrigued, Tiberius stepped forward and entered the adjacent room.

As soon as he stepped inside, the purpose of this room became unmistakably clear – it was a washroom.

The floor was adorned with polished white stone, while the lower half of the walls gleamed with tiles that reflected light brilliantly. Above, a cream-colored wallpaper with swirling cloud-like patterns covered the upper portion of the walls. The ceiling featured a crystal similar to those on the nightstands, mounted upside down at the center, casting a cool and sterile glow over the room.

To the east stood a large clawfoot tub, spacious enough to comfortably accommodate three adults. At the far end of the tub, a pair of gleaming five-spoke faucet handles and a gooseneck faucet added an elegant touch. Above this, a three-foot-long shelf displayed numerous small bottles and toiletries. Turning to the west, to his surprise, he found a toilet of a design similar to the one in his own washroom back in his quarters. Placed between the tub and the toilet was a tall full-body mirror set within an angled frame.

To witness such modernized indoor plumbing in the setting of a medieval world was not something he had expected at all.

However, the dragonoid's surprise was misinterpreted by the maid at the entrance.

With a soft and playful giggle, she spoke, "As you can see, we offer the latest in luxurious amenities here at the Shining Golden Pavilion Inn."

Her heels clicked as Arona stepped onto the stone floor and gracefully sashayed along the length of the bathtub. The tub's size made her leisurely walk feel rather extravagant, if not a tad gratuitous. As she glided her fingertips along the enameled lip, an air of allure surrounded her, adding to the tempting image she projected.

Reaching the far end of the bath, Arona leaned over in a pose that accentuated curves and flouted her posterior hidden beneath her gown. While her heavy chest reacted to gravity's pull, it seemed like a miracle that she didn't spill out from her attire. With an elegant gesture, she extended her arm and grasped the base of the gooseneck faucet, creating a loop with her index finger and thumb. Slowly, teasingly, she slid her hand up along its length before gently releasing it and firmly grasping one of the faucet handles.

It was a titillating display to witness.

"You need just turn this handle," Arona demonstrated her words with a twist of her wrist, and water began to pour from the faucet. "And you'll be treated to wonderfully hot water. Perfect for a relaxing bath, should you desire one. And should the temperature get to be too much for you? Just turn the other and you'll be rewarded with refreshingly chilled water."

The maiden then again rotated the handle stopping the flow of water from the faucet. She then straightened her posture and turned to the shelf on the wall.

"And up here, as you can see, we have a wide selection of bath oils for you to choose from," Arona reached up and plucked one of the small bottles from the wall-mounted horizontal plank, "This one, is a particular favorite of mine."

She took a small step away from the bathtub and walked closer to Tiberius. When she stopped, Arona carefully pulled the glass-topped rubber stopper which slid free with a pop. When it was removed from the rich scent of lavender drifted into the air. Lifting the bottle, Arona gently fanned the aroma toward the room's male occupant with her free hand.

"Do you like it?" the words were said with a light flirty tone as she batted her eyelashes at him.

"Yes," the dragonoid replied.

Then to Arona's surprise, he turned and abruptly exited the washroom.

The auburn-haired woman stood with a stunned expression as she was left behind. This quickly twisted into a pout at the perceived rejection of her advances. With a bit of a huff, she put the stopper back in the ampule before placing it back on the shelf and stepping away.

Arona paused and cast a quick glance at her reflection in the nearby mirror.

Noticing a few stray strands of hair, she delicately let them fall across her cheek, adding to her charm. Then, she adjusted her gown with a gentle tug, taking special care not to pull too hard. After all, she didn't want her assets to be free in the breeze. Next, she smoothed the soft leather bodice she wore, lifting it slightly to emphasize her ample cleavage.

Once she was satisfied with her appearance, Arona left the washroom, closing the door behind her, and gracefully rejoined the inn's newest guests in the main room.

"Thank you for the escort and the tour of the room," Tiberius said, "But you'll have to excuse me as I have some matters I need to discuss with my two companions."

Arona forced a smile, "Of course, sir."

As she made her way to the door, it was Tiberius' turn to act as the escort. When they arrived at the door, he moved forward and with the gesture of a gentleman, the dragonoid opened the door for her.

Here, Arona turned to face the shaggy-haired man and with a wide smile spoke.

"Thank you for choosing to stay at the Shining Golden Pavilion Inn. And do remember if I can be of any further assistance to your stay more… Pleasurable."

She drew out the word in a husky purr as she clasped her hands together before her. In effect trapping her large breasts between her upper arms which made her bust appear far more pronounced.

"Please, don't hesitate to ask for me."

"Y-y-yes, thank you. I'll remember that."

With these words lingering, Tiberius felt it best to hurry her along. He reached into an inner pocket of his knightly surcoat and withdrew a small bauble and offered it to the alluring maiden.

"For your troubles."

He wasn't entirely sure what he had gifted her. A coin, a gem, or something else? He didn't know. But whatever it was made Arona's eyes widen when she saw it and her smile broadened.

She performed a curtsey, then with her hands gripping the gifted trinket tightly, Arona turned and hastily retreated down the long hallway.

Tiberius lingered for a moment, watching as the woman walked away and descended the stairs. Pulling back, he closed the door, and there he continued to hold his position merely staring at the wooden surface before abruptly turning away and again making his way back across the room to the hidden washroom.

In doing so, his movements were followed by the eyes of his remaining female company.

From her place leaning against the bedpost, Shar're watched as their master moved. Her violet eyes bore a twinkle of curiosity as they shifted to track the actions of their master. This curiosity gave way to a measure of concern as she took note of the odd expression that he wore on his face.

However, she was distracted from this by the sound of a soft thump and a muffled giggle.

Pushing off the bedpost, Shar're turned to face the direction of the sound and discover the cause.

The fiery-hairy kitsune lay sprawled out across the large bed face down after having performed a bellyflop. Then in a childlike manner, she began to sweep her arms and legs up and down in much the same way as one would do to create a snow angel. With every swipe of her limbs, the plush goose-down-filled comforter would bunch up, forming numerous ridges like a miniature replica mountain range.

"Just what are you doing?"

The giggling continued for a moment before Ryoko pushed herself up till she was sitting on folded legs. Reaching up, she tugged at the kerchief atop her head, and as the cloth slipped from her head, the kitsune's fluffy fox ears sprang up.

"Well, I'm obviously testing out the comfort level of the bed for the master," a toothy smile appeared on her face, "Gotta make sure it's suitable for his use after all."

"Mmhmm," the dark elf cocked her head and arched her brow with a look of doubt.

The kitsune remained stoic under the other Valkyrie's scrutinizing gaze. Well, she did for a moment, before she sighed and deflated, "Okay, okay, what can I say? It's fun."

In a blink, Ryoko rose to her feet atop the stuffed mattress and then dropped back down. A bright laugh came forth as she bounced several times on the soft surface.

"C'mon, stop fooling around, Ryoko," Shar're groaned, "Can't you see something is bothering the master?"

The kitsune's carefree attitude diminished as she grew still and serious. Her yellow-gold eyes shifted to look past her compatriot and focus on the form of the dragonoid on the far side of the rented space.

"Oh, he's probably just bothered because of that human's unabashed behavior," Ryoko said.

"Ha, yeah. As if she couldn't have been more obvious in her lust than if she was in heat. And the way she threw herself at the master like that," Shar're scoffed, "It was enough to make my stomach churn. I don't understand how he could tolerate her behavior."

The kitsune giggled at the statement, "How foolish a female she must be to believe that the master could ever harbour an inkling of interest in a creature like her. And besides, if anyone was to catch the master's fancy it'd be me."

At the insulation, her sister Valkyrie abruptly turned to face her. The kitsune smiled widely, a mischievous twinkle in the corner of her eye. A similar grin soon appeared on the face of the draegloth turned dark elf. Then together the two girls broke out into a fit of shared giggles.

Standing in the washroom, Tiberius listened to the laughter of his two companions. Yet he paid them little mind. Instead, he had made his way over to the wall-mounted shelf, his steely-blue eyes roaming over the little ampules decorating it.

The aroma from the bottle which the maid had previously opened still lingered in the air. But it was not so strong as to be distracting, this was beneficial as his interest lay with the contents of the vials.

There was a definite variety to their appearances.

Some of the ampules were tall and slim while others were short and wide. There were bottles of stained glass that sat alongside their colourless brothers. Shades of vibrant pink and rich crimson contrasted with the cool hues of blue and green. Some of the liquid contents appeared to have something immersed within their depths, like flower petals or slices of dried fruit.

This prompted his curiosity and reaching out, Tiberius selected a vial at random.

It was a short bottle, several inches tall with an hourglass-like shape. The glass was clear and contained an aqua-coloured rather thick, bordering on gelatinous, liquid inside.

Removing the stopper from the thin neck, the dragonoid raised the bottle to his nose and weakly inhaled. The scent which came up from the mouth of the bottle held an almost citrus-like aroma. Not so strong as to be overpowering and unpleasant. Satisfied he returned the stopper to the vial and replaced it on the shelf.

He then turned his attention to another and repeated the action.

This one was a thinner dark green liquid and held with a refreshing minty scent. A pink vial was next and it had a candied aroma, that reminded him of a dessert. The fact that the two which followed were vanilla and cream, whetted his appetite. Then came a fragrance very reminiscent of cheap cologne, being sharp and tangy in its cleanliness.

Several times more the dragonoid continued in his perfume sampling. Until he came upon a bottle of dark brown glass that obscured the colour of the fluid within. Thinking nothing of it, Tiberius again lifted the bottle to his nose and breathed in.

No sooner had the aroma entered his nostrils than his eyes began to water and his sinuses burn. The muscles of the dragonoid's chest swiftly and violently constricted as he was sent into a retching cough. He coughed with such force and duration that his lungs began to ache.

The sounds of their lord's respiratory distress did not pass unnoticed by the two bodyguards. The kitsune sprang from the large bed where she'd been seated while her Valkyrie sister was already on the move. With haste, the pair crossed the room and burst into the washroom, shock, and fear etched deep into their beautiful features.

"Lord Tiberius!" the dark elf exclaimed, "What's wrong?! What happened?!"

At the sound of the voice, he shifted, performing a rapid heel turn, and thrust out his arm with the offending container in the speaker's direction.

"Shar're!" he groaned between coughs, "G-Get… rid of this thing!"

Immediately, the Valkyrie outstretched her hand and snatched the vial from her master's grasp.

"Where shall I dispose of it?!"

"Throw the damned thing from the balcony for all I care!" Tiberius snapped as he gulped in a lungful of air.

Shar're nodded sharply and turned away from the other two occupants in the washroom. Her athletic legs swiftly carried her to the far side of the room where a pair of doors led to a small veranda. Reaching out, she grasped the handles and pulled back with force. The locking mechanism gave way with a sudden crack, yielding to her superior strength. Stepping out onto the balcony, the dark elf's arm reared back momentarily before surging forward, releasing her hand's cargo into the air.

The glass ampule glinted in the light of the afternoon sun as it was catapulted skyward.

o – o – o – o

Meanwhile, somewhere on the far side of E-Rantel.

A young man with a handsome face, a tanned complexion, sandy-blonde hair, and a cheery disposition was making the sojourn to the local tavern. In his right hand, he carried with him a blue rose, a gift for a certain young lass in hopes of winning her favour.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, he was soon to become an unwitting participant in a demonstration of the function of gravity.

As the age-old proverb says: What goes up, must inevitably come down.

For the rest of that day, the lad would nurse a mild headache and pause to soothe the sore spot on the back of his head. Unfortunately, he would never understand why someone had chosen to throw an object at his head. He would only know the hurt of its landing and the oddly refreshing and pleasant aroma that came with it. Something that a certain young lady seemed to take a liking to when in his company later that evening.

Perhaps a moment's pain wasn't so bad a price to pay, after all.

o – o – o – o

Rid of the object, Shar're returned to the washroom to attend to her master's needs.

Ryoko was no longer just standing in the doorway as she had been previously. Now, the kitsune stood at the master's side with a hand placed gently on the back of the hunched-over dragonoid. Occasionally, she would share words of concern with him in a soothing voice.

His condition had seemingly improved during her brief absence. The coughing had slowed greatly and now only came to him sporadically after having relieved him of that container and its vile liquid contents.

Gradually, the dragonoid rose from his hunched position to again stand upright.

"Thank you, both of you," Tiberius said, his voice sounding a tad strained from the coughing but otherwise normal.

There came no answer from his female company. Instead, the pair stared at the ground with hardened features and rigid postures.

Within the duo, emotions swirled as raging tempests would on the tumultuous seas. A single thought was mirrored between them: How dare these lowly humans bring harm to their beloved master!

But aside from anger came feelings of fear and shame.

They had been entrusted with a sacred responsibility and had failed in their duty to safeguard the Lord of Týrnaust. This would surely mean a severe punishment lay in store for them upon their return to the mountain. What was it to be?

Demotion? Torture? Execution?

Or worse yet… Banishment.

To be banished, to never again be allowed to dwell within the mountain, to gaze upon the works of the Supreme Beings, or bask in the greatness of the Absolute One. To forever be an outcast from their home and fellows while living with the burden of knowing they had failed their creators.

It was a fate far worse than even death itself to all within Týrnaust.

It seemed the two Valkyries arrived at the same conclusion and shivered visibly at the mere notion.

"Lord Tiberius," Ryoko spoke in a soft, almost childlike tone, "Are you okay?"

The dragonoid grunted to clear his throat before inhaling deeply, taking in a lungful of fresh air.

"I will be, Ryoko. Thank you for your concern."

The kitsune smiled, "We always care about you."

"My lord," Shar're stepped forward, "Please, allow Ryoko and I to exact reprisal on the humans."

Shifting, the dragonoid regarded his escort, "For what reason?"

"Why for this brazen attack upon you, of course!" the dark elf stated resolutely, "We cannot simply allow such an act to pass unpunished."

"No," Tiberius shook his head, "There will be no retribution."

At their master's declaration, the two Valkyries stood dumbfounded.

"But why not, Lord Tiberius?"

"Yeah," Ryoko added, "If they're not punished then what's to stop them from trying again?"

Tiberius sighed.

Damn it. Am I gonna have to worry about this now? If I sneeze are they going to believe, the flowers are attacking me? It was only because the smell was too strong for my nose, that's all. It wasn't some attack. His gaze shifted between the pair. But I have to tell them something…

The dragonoid shifted, adopting a more confident posture.

"Then I invite them to try."

The dark elf cocked her head and stared at her master curiously, an action mimicked by her kitsune warrior sister. Only a moment or two had passed before the fiery-haired Ryoko spoke up.

"Oh, I get it!" the kitsune declared with an excited grin.

"Get what?" Shar're turned to the other female and asked.

Ryoko smiled, "What better way for the master to demonstrate strength than to allow them to attack him? Let the humans see how powerless they are before him and let it drive them to madness as they bear witness to their efforts fail over and over again."

The kitsune's smile widened and her foxlike ears lay flat atop her head as she laughed. But this was not the light and cheery laughter which Tiberius had heard numerous times since leaving the mountain. No, this was something heavier with darker implications.

"Oh, master," Ryoko's cheery tone rose with admiration, "You are such a clever one."

"Agreed," Shar're commented with a nod and grin of her own which didn't stay for long, "Forgive us, master. We were not able to properly able to defend against the human's attack on you. We underestimated their guile."

Upon hearing those words, the smile quickly faded from Ryoko's face too.

"Shar're is right. And furthermore, we are prepared to face whatever punishment you wish to bestow."

Without another word, the two Valkyries knelt and bowed their heads.

Once again, Tiberius shook his head and with a sigh cast his eyes to the ceiling.

Am I gonna have to have the same talk with every NPC whenever they think they've failed me? He sighed inwardly at the prospect. Why couldn't we have created an NPC who is a psychiatrist?

"You two are forgiven." Grasping the unspoken command, the pair gradually rose to again stand before the dragonoid. "I hope that you two let this serve as a lesson to never underestimate an opponent. While they may lack the strength to compete with you directly. They may have other talents and means of opposing you."

"Yes, Lord Tiberius, we hear and accept your wisdom," the Valkyries replied in unison.

The dragonoid nodded in response before taking a step toward the door, pausing briefly to cast a final glance at the plumbing fixtures.

Tiberius strode across the room as he made his way to the balcony doors. He could feel the looseness of the handles in his grasp, something the manager would certainly not approve of. But it was nothing that couldn't be handled by tossing the man a few extra coins.

The doors parted after he turned the handles and he stepped out onto the veranda. Tiberius placed his hands atop the decorative iron railing as he looked out over the landscape of E-Rantel lit by the late afternoon sun.

He had come to the city to simply escape the growing boredom that plagued him within the mountain. The numerous questions that had come about since his arrival; however, this was something he had not expected. That vendor and his cart, the food that those café patrons had been enjoying, and now examples of modern bathroom amenities. Then, of course, there was the YGGDRASIL magic and enchanted items that had somehow made the transition into this world.

Unfortunately, answers were lacking in comparison and so he began to wonder.

Was it possible that some genius individual, someone far ahead of their relative time, was out there creating these things?

This was equally likely an answer than any to his questions as anything. However, there was another possibility. One the dragonoid was only now considering as he reached out for a solution.

If I made it here, then maybe others did too. Maybe I'm not alone here.

o – o – o – o

The passageway was dark and the air was ripe with the musty aroma of age and earth, while a clammy dampness clung to the body. The only form of illumination to be found came in the form of [Mage Light] orb.

The sphere of magical energies cast a pale unearthly light that cast long shadows across the figure which followed in its wake.

The person's identity remained shrouded in mystery, concealed by the deep hood of their heavy robe. The robe itself was unremarkable, except for the crimson cloth from which it was made. The only notable embellishment was the faded red sash, now appearing as a pale pink, tied loosely around their waist. Additionally, a golden chain with large looping links hung from their robe, emitting a faint jingling sound with each step. Dangling from the chain were three polished skulls, each roughly the size of an infant's.

Their pace was leisurely but not typical.

There was a distinct stagger to their movement and with every step the wooden tap of the gnarled staff held in their grip.

Placing one foot in front of the other, they continued down the passageway. Their only company was the sounds of staff and the ethereal hum of the magical ball of light. With such a casual pace, it took a fair amount of time to move through the corridor.

Eventually, the tunnel came to an end and opened up to a large chamber.

Here, at the mouth of the passageway, the figure halted. An arm moved, reaching up to grip the dropping hood and pulling it back.

He was an older man, though his exact were hard to determine. His face could best be described as gaunt with sickly pale skin that seemed to be almost hanging off his skull. His dark eyes were equally recessed into his sockets causing heavy rings of shadow to encircle them, while atop his head, there was nary a hair to be found.

Raising his staff from the ground, the unknown man gestured deeper into the darkened space. Obeying the unspoken command the [Mage Light] orb began to move through the air. Deeper and higher it traveled until it reached the apex and hovered just below the stalactite-encrusted ceiling.

His head swiveled, and his eyes slowly traced an arc, taking in the eerie decoration of the room. Tapestries, each adorned with malevolent imagery designed to instill fear, were hung on the naturally carved stone walls. Stalagmites rose from the floor, reaching out to their counterparts above, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Numerous openings lined the chamber's perimeter, leading to other passages, emitting a dank stench of decay that permeated the air.

At the heart of the chamber rested a raised circular platform, a vast stone disc, large enough to accommodate a house. Encircling the platform were eight imposing stone pillars, each as tall as three men, shaped like curled fingers, giving the illusion of the entire platform being held in the grasp of some great and cruel hand. Affixed to the inner surface of each pillar was a sconce holding a crimson candle, its scarlet wax running like rivulets of blood down the stone.

Advancing confidently, the robed man followed a winding pathway leading to the platform. Despite his apparent age, he ascended the flight of stairs with surprising vigor. Upon reaching the top step, he paused for a moment, his dark eyes surveying the floor and the freshly scrawled arcane circle within it.

He turned away at the sound of soft taps emanating from an adjoining passage.

Out from the gaping earthen mouth came a line of similarly attired figures. Striding in single file, it resembled a trickle of blood seeping from an open wound.

Approaching the foot of the stairs, these robed individuals split and formed two rows who bowed to their master before kneeling.

"Master Khajiit," they chanted in one voice.

A small grin pulled at the corner of the elder man's mouth. Each of these figures had come from a variety of backgrounds but were now all united in their fealty to him.

"Speak," Khajiit responded in a commanding and cold tone.

"Preparations are proceeding unhindered, all shall be ready soon."

"Excellent," a creaky laugh came from deep within Khajiit's throat, while the skin of his face pulled tight against his skull as a sinister smile twisted his features. As his face appeared to split, Khajiit's yellow-stained and crooked teeth could be seen peeking passed his thin chapped lips. "Now go and finish your work, there's still much that needs to be done. Let nothing stand in your way."

Hooded heads of the lesser-ranked individuals moved as they nodded before rising from the ground. Then in much the same fashion as they had arrived, the group made their way back to the tunnel from which they came.

"Finally," Khajiit's creaky voice echoed throughout the space, "After five long years of waiting. My plans will soon come to fruition."

Lowering his head, Khajiit's gaze turned to his heavy robes. He lifted his free hand and placed it against the lump buried away within a hidden pocket beneath the folds of cloth. Through his bony hand, he could feel the item stowed away, and then with all the care that one would bestow on a beloved pet. Khajiit gently patted the concealed object.

"Soon now," he rasped, "Everything will be as I have dreamed."

Removing his hand from his robes, Khajiit tapped the butt of the staff several times on the stone floor. The sound resonated across the chamber and into the connecting corridors. As the echoes traveled further into the passages, the man waited and listened. Then from the mouths of the adjoined tunnels came a cacophony of noise. Long protracted groans were intercut with short harsh grunts and overlaid with shambling footsteps.

When those reached his ears, the smile returned to his face, and with it came an icy cackle.

o – o – o – o

"Okay, now let's see," the brown-haired woman behind the counter spoke in a friendly manner. Her bright blue eyes shifted behind her wireframe spectacles as she scanned over the papers lying before her. "Well, all seems to be in order. Just one last thing to do."

Reaching beneath the counter, the receptionist retrieved a small wooden box and placed it down alongside the papers. Lifting the lid revealed a golden stamp and a small bar of green wax. The woman plucked up the wax stick and held it above a nearby candle.

Soon enough the wax began to soften in the heat of the flame. Then when the first droplet rolled down its length, she pulled the stick away from the candle. She moved her hand to hold the stick over one of the papers which Tiberius had recently supplied answers for. Several drops of green wax were allowed to fall from the tip of the bar and onto the paper. Afterward, the receptionist acted quickly, setting the stick of wax aside, she took the polished brass stamp in hand and pressed it to the still soft wax on the page, imprinting its mark upon the wax.

"And with that, we're all done here," she smiled, "Now, if you'll just give me a moment to file this away. I'll be back shortly."

"Of course," Tiberius replied.

The brown-haired woman replaced the seal and the wax stick in the wooden box before again replacing it beneath the counter. She then gathered up the various pages and gave them order as she formed them into a neat stack.

Then with a flash of a quick smile, she turned away from the dragonoid standing opposite her and stepped away from the reception area. Her chosen pathway led her through a hall nestled in the corner of the room and to whatever lay in that direction.

Given her choice of taking the paperwork with her, Tiberius had a strong suspicion that she was probably filing away the papers with the guild records.

During the interim, this gave the disguised dragonoid a chance to better examine his surroundings.

Within the bustling city, there stood an unassuming yet intriguing sight – the Adventurer's Guild.

From the outside, it appeared as nothing more than a modest two-story stone building, blending seamlessly with the surrounding architecture. However, as curious souls stepped through its doors, they were transported into a realm of adventure.

Upon crossing the threshold, one's gaze was immediately drawn to the expansive lobby that greeted them. The grey stone walls, mirroring the exterior, were given new life with a fresh coat of whitewash. Proudly adorning these walls were an array of vibrant banners, each representing a different illustrious quest undertaken by the guild's daring members. Streaks of natural light cascaded through the small, strategically placed windows, illuminating the lobby with a warm and welcoming glow.

At the entrance, a grand pair of double doors beckoned visitors inside, their sturdy oak panels adorned with intricate carvings of legendary creatures and symbols of valor. Above this imposing gateway, a magnificent arched stained-glass window captured the eye. The stunning artwork depicted a gallant knight on a majestic steed, locked in a fierce duel with a menacing manticore, a creature of myth and terror. The colors danced across the floor in a kaleidoscope of brilliance whenever the sun's rays filtered through.

Venturing deeper into the lobby's interior. The space was thoughtfully divided into two distinct areas, both serving unique purposes.

The first area, aptly named the "waiting area," exuded an air of anticipation and excitement. At its heart lay rows of simple yet comfortable wooden benches, their seats adorned with plush, emerald-hued cushions. Here, weary adventurers, potential clients, and curious onlookers could find respite, settling themselves in the embrace of the guild's hospitality. The benches were not mere seats but also gathering places for camaraderie and storytelling.

Flanking the benches were small round bar tables, unassuming yet functional. Their glossy surfaces bore the marks of countless tankards, a testament to the lively conversations and laughter shared over drinks by past and present guild members. Though designed for pairs, these tables were often filled with groups of four, the shared bonds of the guild fostering an intimacy that transcended mere seating arrangements.

The atmosphere in the waiting area was electric, buzzing with tales of daring escapades and legendary battles. Here, adventurers could exchange advice, recount their latest conquests, or eagerly plan new expeditions. Meanwhile, potential clients could engage in hushed conversations with guild representatives, seeking to commission daring souls for tasks both great and small.

For those waiting after a completed quest, the area provided a tranquil spot to reflect on the challenges faced and triumphs achieved. As members diligently filled out paperwork or enjoyed a well-deserved moment of rest, a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie filled the air.

Here an array of adventurers had already gathered, each proudly displaying their distinctive equipment like badges of honor.

Some figures donned formidable and fantastical full-plate armour, clearly embracing the notion of being walking fortresses. However, a few among them had taken a more tactical approach, customizing their armour to enhance maneuverability, revealing a glimpse of ingenuity amidst the brute strength. Yet, it was apparent that lighter armour was favored by the majority, indicating a preference for agility and flexibility on their daring quests. Scale mail, chainmail, brigandines, full-metal breastplates, lamellar armour, and even simple gambesons of quilted and padded cloth were all on display. Each warrior was adorned with belts that carried a multitude of pouches and bags, presumably containing the essential tools for their specific adventures.

In the realm of weaponry, diversity again reigned supreme. One adventurer bore a massive double-headed battle axe, its dual gleaming blades reflecting the owner's skill and ferocity. Another leaned casually on a polearm resembling an oversized war hammer, hinting at the raw power they wielded. A muscular woman stood tall, a sheathed greatsword resting gracefully upon her back, a silent testament to her prowess as a formidable swordsman. Among them, a keen-eyed archer stood, a quiver of arrows snug at their waist, their hands gently gripping the longbow as though it were an extension of their very being.

Beyond the warriors, the guild also housed adept magic casters, adorned in flowing robes of vivid colors that whispered of their mystical expertise. Each robed individual bore the distinctive symbol representing their magical prowess, a staff. It was their staves that truly caught the eye – unique and varied in design, fashioned from a fascinating range of materials. From the rustic warmth of wood to the cool sheen of metals, these staves hinted at the diversity of magical traditions present within the guild. Remarkably, the dragonoid observer noted that none of these materials appeared particularly rare, suggesting that magical power lay not solely in the arcane relics but also in the wielder's knowledge and skill.

The air crackled with anticipation and camaraderie, adventurers from different walks of life mingling, sharing tales of past triumphs, and planning new escapades. Their equipment spoke volumes about their individual strengths and approaches to their craft. And within this lively gathering of heroes, a spark ignited – a shared desire for greatness and a willingness to plunge headfirst into the unknown, where treasures and dangers alike awaited them in the vast tapestry of adventure.

As adventurers passed through the lobby's grand entrance, they found themselves drawn to the guild's reception area, an essential hub for quests and guild affairs.

Adjacent to the grand staircase that led to the upper floor stood an impressive sight: the Job Board. Aptly named, it commanded attention with its sheer size, a colossal wooden wall section standing seven feet tall and stretching ten feet wide. Its surface, covered in a layer of cork or similarly soft material, served as a canvas for an intricate mosaic of job offerings. Countless pages were tacked to the board, displaying a tapestry of opportunities that beckoned adventurers to seize glory and fortune.

Continuing along the reception area, adventurers encountered a long, elegant L-shaped counter that seemed to stretch endlessly along the walls. Here, the guild's staff attended to the needs of the adventurers, guiding them on their quests and organizing their endeavors. The counter was adorned with intermittent lamps, their glass shades adding a touch of color and ambiance to the space. The soft glow of simple candles, some lit while others remained patiently unlit, infused the room with a sense of enchantment. The arrangement of feathered quills resting in inkwells at regular intervals promised swift documentation and seamless communication.

Behind this welcoming counter, the guild's dedicated receptionists worked tirelessly, ever eager to assist and support those who sought the guild's aid. Their eyes sparkled with passion as they interacted with adventurers, diligently helping them fill out paperwork or providing essential information on the quests at hand. Each receptionist embodied the spirit of the guild, their knowledge, and warmth fostering a sense of belonging among those who crossed their path.

Tiberius surveyed the room, and certain groups caught his attention more than others.

Five individuals huddled around a bar table, their heads lowered, and their eyes fixed on a parchment spread out before them. It seemed like they were engrossed in a busy discussion, possibly concerning a map or some important plans.

Not too far away, a well-dressed, boisterous man engaged in conversation with one of the receptionists. Overhearing snippets, it became apparent that he intended to post a job with the guild, but negotiations over the price were causing some displeasure.

Meanwhile, a trio of adventurers, comprising two men and a woman, occupied one of the pews. The black-haired woman sat in a relaxed slouch on the green cushion, while the taller man stood next to the pew. The other man, with a bored expression, sat on the edge of the bench, displaying his skill by balancing the point of a knife on his index finger. It was unclear if they were waiting for another team member or meeting a potential client.

As the dragonoid studied the room, two things became evident.

Firstly, upon observing the individuals present, he noticed a conspicuous absence of copper plate level adventurers. Each adventurer's rank was displayed by a metal tag suspended from a steel chain around their necks. From his observation, the majority held iron ranks, while there were a few with silver tags, and a rare few with gold tags. However, not a single adventurer bore the copper plate level insignia.

The second observation, even more apparent, was the multitude of stares directed not just toward him but also his two companions. However, the dragonoid harbored doubts that he was the sole focus of these wayward gazes.

Tiberius was well aware of the breathtaking beauty possessed by his Valkyrie escorts, just as it had garnered attention within the convoy of travelers. He understood that their striking appearance naturally drew the eyes of onlookers. While there was little to be done about it, he decided to let them gawk for the moment. But only so long as they contented themselves with that, after all, there were limits to his tolerance.

"Sorry that took so long," the brown-haired receptionist from before announced her return.

Turning back, the dragonoid offered his welcome, "It's quite all right."

"Well, thank you," She smiled, "But anyway, I have your plates ready for you."

With a graceful gesture, the receptionist extended her arm, gently placing three silver chains on the polished wood of the countertop. Dangling from each chain was a small copper tag, taking the shape of a rectangle with rounded corners.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And with that formality, you three are now full-fledged members of the Adventurers' Guild. As such you are now able to select jobs from the job board." She clasped her hands together, "Is there anything else that I can help you with?"

"No, you've been most helpful."

The receptionist bowed, "Do take care and have a good afternoon."

Expressing his gratitude with a nod, Tiberius stepped away to rejoin Ryoko and Shar're, who were standing to the side. As he approached the duo, he presented a necklace to each of them. Graciously accepting the trinkets, the Valkyries emulated their master, adorning their necks with the chains.

With the markers in place, Tiberius redirected his focus to the eagerly awaiting job board and the possibilities it held. His eyes scanned over the plethora of papers, but as always, he found himself unable to decipher the language written on them.

I guess it's time to test out my backup plan.

With a turn of his head, he surveyed the room's occupants to ensure none were watching him too closely. Assured of his relative privacy, Tiberius reached into the crimson surcoat, his hand finding the hidden pocket therein, and from this, he found the lynchpin to his plan. Withdrawing his hand, his steely blue eyes stared at the roll of paper.

It was a magic scroll.

A final check of the room and Tiberius broke the wax seal, unfurled the parchment, and spoke the spell.

"[Comprehend Language]," he whispered.

The scroll glowed momentarily within his hand as the spell imbued within the parchment was called to action. Once the radiance had faded, the paper began to change, aging and flaking apart as one would if burned, before then crumbling under its own weight into ash.

Tiberius tilted his hand, allowing the light ash to fall from his palm, and watched as it drifted to the floor. Shifting his focus, he again looked at the job board and the papers pinned to its surface. His gaze traveled from page to the next, never stopping for long, as he waited for the change.

As time passed with no apparent change, he started to question whether the spell had indeed failed.

However, just as doubt crept in, a sudden flicker of movement caught his attention, and his eyes swiftly tracked its trajectory.

The black trails of ink on the pages started to emit a glowing radiance akin to fresh embers, and then an astonishing sight unfolded. They writhed on the paper, like serpents slithering on the ground. Soon, the foreign letters themselves began to curl and peel away from the parchment, hovering in the air like whimsical dancers. The letters swirled and spiraled, seemingly driven by an unseen tempest.

The dragonoid felt a pang of concern, glancing around to see if anyone else noticed this extraordinary spectacle. Yet none did, all within the room carried on uninterrupted – engrossed in their activities. Proof enough that this dazzling display was for his eyes only.

Gradually, the iridescent markings slowed their dance and gently drifted back towards the pages from whence they originated. As each line settled back onto the surface of the paper, they transformed into new, more familiar characters. The process continued until the final mark found its place, and the once incomprehensible scribble now morphed into something discernible, recognizable, and pronounceable.

[Comprehend Language], a potent seventh-tier spell, outshone its lesser counterpart, [Decipher Language], by providing a perpetual understanding of both written and spoken languages upon activation. While [Decipher Language] was limited, needing cooldowns and offering incomplete translations, [Comprehend Language] ensured complete comprehension, making it a valuable tool in YGGDRASIL's diverse fantasy worlds.

For adventurers facing various quests with complex puzzles and foreign languages, [Comprehend Language] proved indispensable. However, there was a trade-off. While [Decipher Language] allowed users to learn new languages, as each was forgotten when the cooldown was up, [Comprehend Language] didn't grant this ability. Players seeking to learn a new language had only two options: pay an exorbitant fee to an NPC for "unlearning" a language and regain the use of [Comprehend Language], or search for and acquire rare auto-translation items, such as monocles or glasses, often at a steep cost in the auction house. The choice between convenience and linguistic expansion posed a unique challenge for players in their quest for knowledge and exploration.

That's a relief. Tiberius smirked. Now then, let's see what they have to offer.

So with his new understanding of the New World language, the dragonoid began to read the words on the flyers.

Fortunately, each page conveniently displayed a difficulty rating, using the same ranking system as the adventurers themselves. The jobs were categorized into copper, iron, silver, gold, platinum, mithril, orichalcum, and adamantine levels, with the easiest tasks falling under copper and the most challenging under adamantine. This straightforward organization made it simple for Tiberius to gauge the difficulty of each job before making a decision.

For copper-ranked jobs, there was plenty to choose from.

One job involved a farmer seeking adventurers to escort him and his livestock to the market. Another opportunity was for a courier to deliver a parcel to someone living in a city within the Baharuth Empire. Stood out among the multiple courier positions available. An alchemist also posted an ad, looking for an adventuring party to retrieve a selection of herbs from a forest.

However, there were more challenging tasks for those willing to take on greater risks. The same alchemist offered another job, this time involving the collection of various monster parts like troll fat, ogre teeth, goblin blood, giant boar tusks, wyvern scales, and more. A merchant caravan also sought interested parties to serve as bodyguards during their travels through several cities, protecting against bandits and monsters alike.

These quests were typical starting options for lower-level adventurers. Though his party was technically ranked copper, their actual stats were much higher, making these quests somewhat underwhelming for their capabilities.

As Tiberius pondered their choices, he stroked his chin, considering the best course of action.

So, what job should we take? I mean they'll be expecting us to start with something easy. But the downside to doing that is who knows how long it would take us to move up in rank. But what if instead we just go for it, and "jump into the deep end" as they say, and show them what we are capable of?

Dropping his hand, he shifted, sweeping his eyes across the others in the room.

However, if we did that. I doubt that we'd receive a warm welcome from the others if we jumped the line like that. This might also present us with an issue if we ever need to work with another team.

Time passed by unnoticed for the dragonoid as a debate was waged within him and the pros and cons of the two choices.

Yet it seemed that his apparent indecision did not go overlooked.

"Hmm, what?" Tiberius replied to the only partially heard comment.

"I said having trouble deciding on which job to take?"

The dragonoid gave a shrug as he attempted to appear nonchalant.

"I guess you could say that."

The unknown man offered a good-natured smile, "Well, don't worry about it. We've all been there."

The stranger appeared to be of average height, standing about half a head shorter than Tiberius' impressive six and a half feet. His crown bore a crop of short sandy-blonde hair, and his eyes held a captivating shade of blue with a subtle hint of green. Despite his youthful and ordinary facial features, there were no distinguishing marks to aid in guessing his age. It was a bit challenging to determine precisely, but one could safely assume that he fell somewhere around the mid-twenties.

The stranger was dressed in the attire befitting an adventurer, equipped for the challenges that lay ahead.

Starting with his upper body, he wore a long-sleeved shirt with reinforced padding on the elbows, providing extra protection. His forearms were covered by vambraces made of hardened leather with added padding. Instead of traditional buttons, his leather jerkin was secured by two large straps adorned with silver buckles, positioned over the right side of his ribs. Leather strips connected the jerkin to a pair of sturdy spaulders resting on his shoulders.

Moving to the lower half of his outfit, the man donned earth-toned trousers that showed signs of wear and tear, with small scuffs and numerous repaired stitches. His knee pads seemed worn and didn't quite match the rest of the ensemble. His feet were adorned with oiled and supple leather boots, exhibiting a softer and paler hue.

Hanging from his sword belt on the right hip was a canvas satchel, approximately the size of a large book, while a sheathed bastard sword rested on the opposite side. With this well-worn and practical garb, the stranger looked ready to face any adventure that came his way.

"The name's Peter," he chuckled and extended his hand in greeting, "Peter Mauk."

"Pendragon," the dragonoid answered before reaching out to accept the handshake, "Good to meet you."

"Likewise," Peter's eyes shifted, looking over the shoulder of the shaggy-haired young man and toward the pair of young women who stood just beyond, "I take it those two are with you?"

"Yes, they are my companions," Tiberius pivoted partially to the side and gestured to each of the Valkyries, "This, is Ryoko and Shar're."

"Hey," the transformed draegloth offered as her paltry acknowledgment.

Comparatively, Ryoko was a little more enthusiastic in her greeting.

"'Ello, nice to meet you," the kitsune said with a giggle and a wave.

Peter returned the friendly gesture before turning his attention back to their male companion.

"I see that you're all copper ranks, so I guess you're new to the guild?"

"Yes, we only just finished with the registration."

The blonde-haired adventurer pivoted, turning back to face the large notice board. In doing so, the chain about his neck likewise was moved and with it the silver plate it carried became visible. This caught the observant eye of the dragonoid as he regarded the other male.

"I'd say you're in luck. There are plenty of offers posted today. Normally there aren't quite so many listings as other adventurers tend to pick them up pretty quickly." Struck by a sudden idea, Perter smacked the closed fist of one hand against the open palm of the other. "Hey, I have a thought, how about the three of you join up with my team?"

Tiberius eyed the other with suspicion, "Why?"

"What do you mean?" Peter responded in his usual friendly manner.

"To start with, you've only just met us. Then there is your rank, you're a silver-ranked adventurer. So, the question is why would you invite a trio of copper-ranked novices to accompany your team."

Peter let out a nervous but good-natured laugh.

"Well, it would be to our mutual benefit. I mean it would help give you three some experience. Allow you to see how things are done around here and eventually help with moving up the ranks. And in return, my teammates and I get to enjoy the advantage of having extra manpower." Again, Peter offered a pleasant smile, "So, will you hear us out?"

A moment of quiet passed as Tiberius considered the other's offer.

"Very well, lead the way."

"Alright then," the adventurer's voice rose with cheer, "Follow me and I'll introduce you three to the rest of my team."

With the bargain struck, the silver-ranked adventurer promptly spun on his heel and strode away from the trio and toward the nearby staircase.

The dragonoid hesitated, watching as the young man moved away before looking back at his Valkyrie escorts. In silent acknowledgment of his expression, the pair was reminded of his words on their behaviour. With a nod, Tiberius turned and began to follow in the wake of their new acquaintance.

The upstairs area was cleverly divided into multiple smaller sections using short walls, maintaining an open-air atmosphere while providing some privacy. Each of these segmented spaces resembled a conference room, complete with long tables and chairs arranged on all sides. To add a touch of nature, potted plants were thoughtfully placed in the corners of each room.

Among these areas, only one possessed a door, likely reserved for meetings where more sensitive information was to be shared in confidentiality.

It was into one of the open meeting rooms that Peter had gone and into the room that the trio followed. Within three other individuals sat waiting on the far side of the long table, silhouetted against the windows behind them.

Peter strode around the table and rejoined his teammates, taking the empty spot in the middle.

Standing before these people, Tiberius was reminded of the numerous inter-departmental meetings in which he had participated. But that was then. Pushing the thoughts from his mind, the dragonoid took several steps forward and took a seat at the table opposite Peter. This action was copied by Ryoko and Shar're as they sat on either side of their master.

"I guess introductions are in order. We call ourselves 'The Swords of Darkness.' And since we've already spoken, I'll skip over myself," Peter announced, "Sitting at the end of the table we have Lukrut Volve. He's our ranger and serves as our eyes and ears out there in the wilds."

The individual in question assumed a rather relaxed posture as he sat on his chair. Leaning slightly forward, he rested his right elbow on his knee while supporting his left hand on the other knee. His physique was slender, with a wiry musculature reminiscent of a long-distance runner, in contrast to Peter's more robust build. Like his leader, Lukrut also had blonde hair, but his locks were a lighter, straw-like shade and flowed down to a greater length. To keep his hair from falling into his face, he wore a headband that kept it swept back.

In terms of appearance, the ranger had sharp and charming features, contributing to a noble visage.

He seemed to have taken some fashion cues from Peter, as his attire bore resemblances. Wearing a charcoal-colored, long-sleeved undershirt as a base, he adorned a scarlet hauberk with elegant golden trim. Around his waist, a vibrant emerald sash added a touch of color, neatly secured with an oiled leather belt. However, when it came to protective gear, he appeared rather light. His defenses consisted of a simple chest piece and vambraces with fingerless gloves.

His choice of knee-high boots covered much of the plain dark trousers, a practical addition for someone expecting to traverse through thick brush and rough terrain.

With a chuckle, a warm smile spread across Lukrut's lips as he raised his hand to wave in a friendly greeting. "Hi."

"And over here," Peter swept his hand above the table and gestured to the large man seated on the opposite end of the table, "Is our capable druid, Dyne Woodwonder. His ability to manipulate nature and healing magics have proved themselves valuable on numerous occasions."

"Yeah, I'll say," Lukrut commented, "Can't tell ya just how many close calls we've had and were able to walk away because of him."

Dyne was an imposing figure, a true giant of a man. If he were to stand, he'd likely reach an impressive seven feet in height, with a bulky frame adorned with heavy muscles. Surprisingly, his long hair also sported a blonde hue, much like the ranger's own. A polished wooden circlet encircled his crown, adding to his druidic presence.

His face had a gentle and kind demeanor, though somewhat on the plump side, and hidden partially beneath a well-groomed and bushy beard. This gave his eyes a perpetual squint, making it challenging to discern their exact color.

As one would expect of a druid, Dyne's attire reflected a connection to nature. He wore a cream-colored turtleneck made of rough spun cloth, along with a waist-length sleeveless gambeson in a faded green shade, likely from spending much time under the sun. Thick quilted shoulder pads emphasized his already broad frame. The basic trousers he wore had an extra layer of padding across the front for added protection, neatly tucked into his boots. A wide belt of aged leather held numerous pouches securely around his waist.

Curiously, the pouches emitted a pleasant aroma of fresh grass and various herbs, strong enough to tickle the dragonoid's nose.

"Nice to meet you, folks," the druid spoke with a gentle tone that belied his easygoing nature.

"And last but not least, is the brains of our group," Peter turned and motioned to the individual seated beside him, "Our magic user, Ninya the Spellcaster."

"Hello there," the spellcaster smiled.

Ninya stood out as the youngest member of the group. His head was adorned with short and shaggy russet brown hair that reached just above his bright blue eyes. His slim face boasted soft features and a slightly paler complexion, giving him a fair and youthful appearance often described as a "baby face." Additionally, there was a rather effeminate aura surrounding him, likely stemming from his androgynous build and higher tone of voice.

As a mage, Ninya chose not to wear any visible armor. Instead, he donned a dark long-sleeved tunic and a matching pair of generously baggy trousers that were neatly tucked into shin-high boots. A cream-colored tabard extended down to his knee, adding a touch of elegance to his attire. Across his shoulders and upper chest, he draped a waxed woolen cloak resembling the color of golden wheat. The cloak was fastened closed by a length of crimson cord, elegantly laced through eyelets in the front of the neckline. Though he had a hood of dark cloth attached to the cloak, it currently rested flat upon his shoulders and back.

A wide belt adorned his waist, and on the left hip, a square pouch with a button-down flap was secured. On the other side, a small sack hung loosely, completing his unique ensemble.

"Peter, stop it. I keep telling you that nickname is embarrassing," Ninya lowered his head bashfully.

The blonde adventurer quirked his brow, "How come? You know you should be proud of it."

Being a bystander to a conversation in which its underlying meaning was not within his grasp brought a curious expression to sprout on the dragonoid's face. In return, it was the ranger Lukrut who took notice, and leaning forward he spoke up.

"Ninya here is a talent holder."

Unfortunately, the young man's words did nothing to alleviate Tiberius' befuddlement.

"I'm sorry," he replied, "But I am not familiar with the term. What exactly does it mean?"

At this, it was now as if the expressions had been reversed and it was now the turn of the adventurers to wear looks of confusion.

"Forgive me, we're not from these lands and I haven't heard someone talk of talent holders before," the dragonoid hastily added.

"I guess that's understandable," Peter shrugged, "It simply means that he was born with a special ability. Ninya here possesses a talent known as Magic Affinity. This means he can learn spells twice as fast as normal casters."

The team leader's voice carried a sense of pride as he inclined his head and placed a hand on the shoulder of the spellcaster at his side. This praise caused a faint blush to creep over Ninya's cheeks as he squirmed seemingly uncomfortable at suddenly finding himself the center of attention.

So what they mean is he was born with a sort of bonus perk. I wonder if being born with it is the only way to gain these talents. And what about those abilities that the Warrior-Captian was using?

"Thank you, I believe I understand now," Tiberius gave a nod and looked to Ninya, "I guess that makes you something of a magical prodigy."

The spellcaster's blush only grew deeper at the comment.

"It's not such a big deal. It's not like I did anything to really deserve this, I was just lucky is all. And part of me feels it's kind of an unfair advantage." Ninya's voice was low with an almost defeatist tone, "But it's helped me on the road to realizing my dreams. Without it, I would have spent the rest of my days as just another commoner, probably working on some farm in a village somewhere."

"Such modesty," Peter spoke in a lighthearted manner, "He's actually rather famous and we're proud to have him as a member of the team."

Ninya shook his head, "Yeah, well, here in E-Rantel there is a more famous talent holder."

"Oh, and who would that be?"

"That would be Master Bareare," the formerly silent druid answered in his gruff yet cheerful tone.

The dragonoid shifted in his chair, "He must have some remarkable talent to outrank an ability like yours."

"Guess that settles it, you're really not from around here." Peter chuckled before he took a seat, "Well, his name is Nfirea Bareare, and he's the grandson of a celebrated herbalist here in E-Rantel. As for what makes him so distinguished, they say he was born with a talent that allows him to use any magic item. So, not only can he use scrolls of any type. But he can also items made by non-human races. And even items that would otherwise be restricted like those that require the wielder to be of royal blood."

To hear of something like this came as a surprise to the dragonoid.

Gotta say that sounds like an OP ability. Then again, back in YGGDRASIL, there were plenty of abilities and items that allowed the user to cast magic outside their purview. But those usually came with a drawback, and this doesn't sound like it has one. Still, I wonder if it only works with items from this world. Or could he use YGGDRASIL items too?

"That is impressive indeed," Tiberius commented before he rose from his chair and cleared his throat with a brief cough, "I guess it's our turn for introductions. My name is Pendragon, and these are my companions. To my right is Shar're."

"Good to meet you," the changed draegloth leaned forward in her seat to perform a truncated bow.

"And to my left is Ryoko."

"Yeah, it's always fun to meet new people," the kitsune chirped and tilted her head in a very canine-like fashion causing the crystal bell on her silk collar to jingle softly. "So you're a magic caster too! Perhaps we'll get a chance to explore your abilities in depth."

Her attention shifted to the androgynous mage across the table, and the predatory glint in her yellow-gold eyes gave the impression that she was sizing up the human.

However, this look was misinterpreted by the blonde-haired ranger, who shot a cheeky grin at his compatriot and Ninya gave a nervous laugh in return.

"Now that that's out of the way," Tiberius interjected, bringing the focus back onto himself, "When you asked if we would join your group, you mentioned a job. So, I am curious as to what you had in mind."

"Uh, well, about that…" Peter said in an unsure tone, "The truth is it's not a job per se."

"Oh?" the dragonoid leaned forward intrigued.

"See, what I mean is we weren't officially hired for the job. But it's still recognized as guild work."

"And what is this off-the-book work you've decided to take on."

Lukrut grinned and replied in a cocksure way, "We'll be hunting monsters."

Such a simplistic answer was not something Tiberius had been expecting. Thankfully, Peter elaborated further.

"You see, keeping the roads clear of monsters falls to the Adventurer's Guild. So, it's sort of an unwritten task that members carry out."

The kitsune tilted her head, "Does that mean that you're not paid for it?"

"Oh no, we are, just not directly by a client. See the guild receives a stipend from the city council for any monsters we hunt down. And after we present them with proof of the strength and number of monsters we subdued, we'll be given payment from the guild."

"Ah," the dragonoid nodded.

The druid let out a low hum as he stroked his beard, "It's dull but necessary work for us adventurers."

"The job is pretty easy and we get to keep people safe. And let travelers come and go in peace. Even the tax collectors too, though I think most people wouldn't mind if they encountered a monster or two on the road," Lukrut chuckled at his own joke, "It's often pretty thankless too. But perhaps one day, some traveler's lovely daughter will make a show of her gratitude and let me sweep her off her feet."

The ranger made a show of wrapping his arms around himself as he mimed being enveloped in the steamy romantic embrace of another. It was a display that earned Lukrut a shake of the head from his teammates.

"Anyway," Peter said attempting to bring the focus back to the topic at hand and not on the ranger engaged with an imaginary partner. "All in all, it's an easy way to earn some coin and be able to help people."

"Yup, no one loses out. People are safe, monsters are vanquished, and we get to bring home that tasty, tasty bacon," added the ranger.

"Most kingdoms have a branch of the Adventurer's Guild, so it's a pretty common task for members to take part in nowadays. A mere five years ago this sort of thing was left only to contract." It was Ninya who spoke with scholarly authority, "Though in the Baharuth Empire and the Slane Theocracy, it's said that such jobs are handled by the army."

"If that's true, then why did it take so long to implement the practice?"

"It's true that in the past people used to be attacked on the roads pretty regularly. There were plenty of deaths as a result, sometime whole caravans would disappear and trade would grind to a halt for fear of being next. It wasn't until the Golden Princess put forth the proposal to have the city council and the Adventurer's Guild enter into the contract as it stands now."

"Long Live the Golden Princess," Lukrut chanted.

It was a statement of admiration that was reflected in the eyes of his comrades and seemed to spark something within the group.

"Yeah, it's too bad her policy of waiving taxes for adventurers got overruled. It sure would have been nice to put some coin back in our pockets instead of it all going into the Kingdom's coffers."

The party's leader glanced over at the ranger, "Still, it's amazing that she thinks so highly of us."

"Oh, how I long to marry a beautiful and thoughtful girl like her someday," again it was Lukrut who pined so openly as a dreamy look settled over his features.

"Then shouldn't you be working at becoming a noble yourself?"

The cheeky jab from the mage caused the wistful expression to flee the ranger's face.

"Pfft, no way. That hoity-toity lifestyle is far too stifling. I gotta be free to roam, you know? To feel the wind in my hair, the earth beneath my feet, and the sun on my face." He directed his eyes toward the ceiling, "Still, though, it would be nice to have a beautiful girl waiting for my glorious return. Might make going through all this feel a little more worth it."

"I'm sure being a noble wouldn't be all that bad. I mean the law would always be on your side and you'd get to pretty much trample over the peasants and do whatever you wanted." Ninya said with a bitter edge.

"Yikes!" Lukrut responded with mock shock, "That tongue of yours is always so vicious. You really hate the nobility, don't you?"

The mage shifted, a contemptuous glare settling over his face as he crossed his arms.

"There may be a few of them out there that could be considered good. But… my older sister was taken away by one of those bastards. So, I can't just…"

Silence fell over those gathered around the table at the sharing of such a tragic tidbit.

"My my, this conversation has taken an unexpected turn," the druid spoke up breaking the awkwardness of the moment, "Though it would probably be in poor taste to discuss such topics in front of potential allies."

Taking the initiative, the group's leader straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"And so you have it. We'll be traveling to the south and hunting for any monsters that may have strayed too close. But since we're still so close to civilization, there shouldn't be anything too strong. So what do you say? Care to join us?"

The dragonoid allowed the young man's offer to hang in the air unanswered. A common tactic in negotiations, often employed as a prelude to bartering for a better deal. But this was not his intention.

"I don't see why not."

At the acceptance of the proposed partnership, the four members of the Swords of Darkness reacted with wide smiles.

Peter clapped eagerly before disappearing briefly from view as he leaned down to retrieve something from below the table. When he reappeared, the blonde-haired adventurer rose from his seat and began to unfurl a folded piece of paper upon the tabletop.

Once opened fully, it was revealed to contain a detailed map of the region, much like the one Tiberius had previously seen in Chief Wyllam's home. However, the experience this time around was more pleasant as he was able to read the words printed on the parchment.

The map was well worn, with tattered edges and deep crease lines, and numerous small water stains marred the page. On several places across the map, there were scribbled notes, sometimes a mere line or two but sometimes it was a short paragraph. The once abyssal black of the iron gall ink had long since turned a rusty brown with the map's age.

"We'll set out from E-Rantel and travel southwards along the roads where we'll be keeping an eye out for any monsters." Peter said as he tapped a finger on a marker of the same name before tracing along a thin line on the map. "Out there we'll be mainly dealing with creatures that come up from the Slane Theocracy border."

Drawing back, the adventurer rested his hands on his hips.

"Given the area heading to we shouldn't have to worry about any particularly strong monsters."

"Yeah, it'll probably just be some goblins looking for easy prey on the roads," Lukrut remarked with a flippant wave of the hand, "Unfortunately, taking them out will only net us a handful of coppers."

This obvious disregard shown by the team of adventurers at the notion of dealing with goblins did not go overlooked.

In YGGDRASIL, the strength of monsters could vary greatly amongst their own species. Goblins, for example, typically fell within the low-end monsters to middle tiers around level 50. Amongst the higher-leveled monsters, there were specialty mobs that possessed unique abilities that made it night impossible to discover this information until they were engaged in combat.

"Are goblins not that strong here?" Tiberius inquired.

It was the druid who answered, "Well, exceptional individuals can be found amongst any race. But those usually act as tribal leaders and remain within the clanhold. The goblins we are most likely to encounter are stragglers or tribal nomads."

"I see."

As the team of adventurers grew embroiled in a conversation over the prospects of what was to be expected from the coming expedition. The disguised dragonoid, however, paid them little mind. Instead, it was focused on studying the now legible map. In particular, he paid close attention to the heavy woodlands and the vacant patch not far from it.

"What about this place here?" he asked and pointed to the empty space.

Pulled from their discussion, the group's collective gaze followed the pointing finger to the map.

"The Katze Plains?" Lukrut turned to Tiberius with evident puzzlement, "What about it?"

The road we're to follow veers away from this area and into the forest instead. Would it not be easier to travel through the plains instead?"

The answer that came was succinct.

"Because of the ravenous undead."

"Undead?"

"Oh, right. You wouldn't know about that," the ranger said matter-of-factly, then turning to his right, he continued, "Ninya, you're the learned one. You want to answer this one?"

The russet-haired mage merely nodded.

"Long ago the Katze Plains were said to be covered with vast fields of sweet-smelling grasses. There were a number of towns that dwelt amongst the ancient ruins of the fortresses of old. However, as tensions between Re-Estize and Baharuth grew the plains became a battlefield and drove away those who lived there. Since that first battle, the two kingdoms have marched their troops onto the plains to wage an annual war."

Ninya paused for a moment, perhaps to allow his brief history lesson to be absorbed. Or maybe for dramatic effect.

"This constant hostility has changed the lands. Now the once lush grasslands have gone barren and a permanent fog envelops the entire plains. Even as the prairies and forests that surround the region remain verdant. The towns have long since been demolished in the conflicts, leaving only scattered stones where people had lived. While the ruined towers of old still stand like monolithic tombstones.

Furthermore, because of the amount of death and bloodshed that the land had borne witness to. The whole of the Katze Plains has become a major spawning ground for all manner of terrible things. Within the thick fog, roving bands of zombies and skeleton warriors lurk, waiting for any unwary. Liches work to build armies of the dead so that they may wage war against the living. And other terrifying monsters continue to prowl, ready to devour the innocent."

Whether what the young spellcaster had told Tiberius was true, or if it was just a folktale – a story passed from one traveler to another as they sat around a campfire. But at least two things were true. Firstly, this young spellcaster certainly had a flair for storytelling. As for the second, as he gazed at the faces of the four members of the Swords of Darkness, it was clear that they believed it.

"Ah. Well, thank you for the answer."

At the far left of the table, Dyne nodded, "It's because of the presence of undead that the guild created a quota and will often dispatch teams to thin out the herds. Lest they grow too high in number and pose a threat to the surrounding lands."

"Of course, whether you're saddled with such jobs depends on your rank within the guild," Lukrut folded his arms as he returned to his casual posture, "The higher your rank, you can expect to be sent deeper into the plains after the more monstrous creatures."

"This is why we'll be sticking to the forest to the east of the plains," Peter stated, "Though we won't be venturing too deeply into the woods."

As if expecting the oncoming question from their guests, Ninya again spoke up.

"The deeper forest is quite dangerous. While we're capable of dealing with the jumping leeches and the giant beetles. But things like the hanging spiders, that spit poisonous webs, and the forest worms that will maul you from beneath the ground with their huge jaws are more difficult to handle. So, we'll be keeping to the outskirts where we're more likely to come across goblins and wolves they rise as mounts. However, there haven't been any reports of exceptional monsters in the area. But if they're there, they're most likely to be ogres."

The dragonoid nodded in understanding.

Guess it's not much different from farming mobs back in YGGDRASIL. Well, this shouldn't be difficult.

"And that's how it is," Peter said in his usual lighthearted manner, "So, still willing to lend us a hand?"

"We shall."

The four men across the table smiled at the other's answer.

"Alright then," the blonde adventurer announced as he began to refold the map, "I guess after we make a few stops, we'll head out."

Then without another word, the two teams of adventurers rose from their respective places around the long table, before taking a moment to return their chairs to their rightful place under the table. It was then the Swords of Darkness who led the way down the stairs and back to the lobby. Here, the group paused as Peter made his way to the reception desk to speak with one of the guild's receptionists there. Probably to inform them of his party's plans.

Once he'd returned, the heavy wooden doors of the Adventurer's Guild opened before them. Then together, the newly partnered teams of the Swords of Darkness and the Crimson Dragoons set out for adventure.