Goblin Slayer sat stiffly on the worn, slightly uncomfortable bench— feeling the faint hum of the maglev train beneath him. His gloved fingers rested on his knees, his leather armor illuminated dully in the ambient light— creaking softly when he shifted.
On his head, a thick, matte helmet, featureless except for the narrow slit of a visor, encased his head. Through its vented gaps, his gaze was locked on the horizon beyond the train's window, as he ignored the groggy murmurs of the dark-elf beside him.
Slumped against the seat, Dark Mage's face was drawn in a pallor that matched the bandages wrapped around his forehead and torso. Metal bindings crossed over his body, tightly securing his bloodied and dirty robes— though they couldn't restrain his mumbled incoherencies.
Words drifted from his mouth, soft and nonsensical, fragments that came and went like wisps of smoke. But the teen's focus remained steadfast on the view outside, with him barely acknowledging the dark-elf's restless movements.
Outside the window, the train glided over a hilltop track, high above the sprawling coastal city below. Goblin Slayer's eyes traced the view, following the path down the hill to where it met the sands— stretched golden and vast along the water's edge.
From where he was, the teen could see the beach spreading out, hemmed in by a light scattering of pine and brush that was gradually giving way to urban sprawl. Coastal buildings crept up the hillside, painted in pastel hues, with their roofs and terraces layered like stepping stones leading to the water.
The sea lay stretched out beyond, dotted with cargo ships, yachts, and scattered fishing boats— their sails and masts piercing the blue haze. Several piers jutted into the water, marking the harbors that cut along the shore. The piers extended like fingers, crowded with crates, nets, and the distant figures of people— barely more than shadows against the sky's brightness.
Goblin Slayer's gaze lingered there as he took in the delicate sparkle of sunlight that played across the waves— each crest rolling forward to rush the sandy shores, dissolving back into the water in silvery foam.
He breathed in deeply, the scent of the sea seeping through his visor— briny and thick. It coated his tongue with heavy, tangy salt— carrying the faintest hint of something green and wild beneath it all.
'Is this… Is this really how big Broreril is?!' He thought to himself, while still mindlessly savoring the oceanic coast on his tongue. 'God, I wonder how much it cost to live here… What do most people even do here for work?' He wondered to himself, while trying to imagine what it would be to uproot his life and move there, as he continued to gaze out at the scenery passing by his.
The sky above was a pale blue, softened by clouds scattered like brushstrokes— mingling with the horizon in patches that seemed to hover just above the water. Sunlight filtered through them, casting a gentle glow that sparkled on the ocean's surface and dappled across the slopes of the hill. He found himself searching for a pattern in the clouds— wondering if they moved with the same silent power as the waves below.
A faint jerk from Dark Mage drew Goblin Slayer's attention, but he ignored the elf's whispered words. The teen couldn't make them out, and he didn't want to.
Whatever haunted Dark Mage, whatever dreams flickered behind that bandaged brow, were his own.
Instead, Goblin Slayer watched as more piers slipped by— each harbor more intricate than the last, with boats clustered like driftwood against the docks.
'Was this place always so… Urbanized?' He wondered silently. 'Always figured places like these would have palm trees, and mostly just be sand… Guess not all beaches are the same.' He concluded mentally, while glancing up as the train continued its silent glide— hovering over its magnetic track, like some ghostly vessel skimming across the water itself.
Eventually though, the maglev train began to ease up— letting out a soft whine of slowing propulsion humming beneath Goblin Slayer's feet. The steady levitation gave way to a gentle descent, and finally, the platform below settled onto the tracks with a cushioned thud. The train coasted along until it pulled smoothly to a stop in Brorerid Station— one of dozens of sleek cars gliding in and out in a constant dance of arrivals and departures.
Inside, Goblin Slayer glanced around— half-expecting the conductor to suddenly appear from nowhere. Instead, the man's voice rang out over the intercom, as smooth and crackling as radio static. The armored teen looked up— shifting in his seat like he might actually find the disembodied voice somewhere in the rafters.
"Thank you for choosin' Laithwaites Railroad Company, folks," the conductor said through the surround sound system. "We ask that ya stay seated until the train comes to a full stop, which it has. Exit in an orderly fashion, and keep your hands off each other's stuff, yeah? Luggage tickets in hand, please, or you'll be leavin' with nothin' but regrets and a strong arm from security. The time is now nine-thirty seven in the mornin', and the temperature a balmy seventy-two degrees, and it's a perfect day for the Flambrae Festival. You'll find the best street food in town from Main Street, to all the way down to Fisherman's Wharf. And, hey, try the crabcakes! On behalf of Laithwaites, have a great day!"
Goblin Slayer watched as the passengers around him shuffled to their feet— collecting bags and chattering to each other. His gaze drifted to Dark Mage, who was still slumped in his seat and muttering nonsense under his breath.
Ignoring the stares, Goblin Slayer hoisted the unconscious elf over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, then stretched up to open the overhead compartment— leaning on his toes to grab his worn leather backpack. With his pack slung over one shoulder, he followed the flow of passengers toward the exit.
And as he stepped onto the polished tiled floor of the boarding station, Goblin Slayer's eyes widened at the sheer number of people. The station was packed, the air a thick mix of voices, footsteps, and the clatter of luggage. People brushed past him, all moving with the kind of purpose and speed that left him feeling slightly dizzy.
'Okay… Too many people. Too many… Noises…' Goblin Slayer thought anxiously to himself, before letting out an uneasy breath and trying his best to shake off his discomfort. 'Just keep moving. Focus.'
Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the crowd— his helmet barely catching on shoulders and bags, until he reached a line of security checkpoints. He stepped forward, still carrying Dark Mage, only to have a guard in a navy-blue uniform eye him up suspiciously.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid!" The guard held up a gloved hand. "Ya mind explainin' why ya carryin' brody like a sack'a potatoes?"
"Uh…" Goblin Slayer stammered, while trying his best to decipher the guard's regional dialect— the stares of the other guards making him break out in a sweat under his helmet. "I'm… With the Adventurers' Guild. I, uh, have my ID… Somewhere."
"Somewhere, he says," the guard muttered, rolling his eyes. "Hey, Phil, get a load of this guy! Thinks he's BIMBO BRAGGINS." He jeered teasingly— prompting another guard to amble over, while smirking as he looked Goblin Slayer up and down.
"So, uh, Mr. Adventurer," Phil drawled, crossing his arms, "ya ever heard of carryin' ya drunk friends like a normal person?"
Goblin Slayer cleared his throat, while shifting the weight of Dark Mage awkwardly. "He's uh… He's not my friend."
"Oh, smart guy, huh," the first guard said, tapping his badge with a grin. "Lemme guess— just got off ya honeymoon, and darkie here got too loose on the juice?!"
"Nah, nah, they ain't married— this kid's on some NEFARIOUS level crap," Phil chuckled, jabbing his thumb toward Goblin Slayer, "kid's gonna pimp this twinkie's ass out on the STREETS. Come up on some of that BROWN-MONEY."
'What the fuck?!'
"Could… Could you just… Take my ID?" Goblin Slayer stammered, fumbling with his belt to fish out his wallet. After a few seconds of awkward tugging, he finally managed to pull it free and handed over his Guild ID.
The first guard took it with a smirk, eyeing it over. "Alright, hold tight, Mr. Adventurer. Just gonna run ya through the system." He said, before pulling out a clunky tablet from his belt— muttering something about "kids these days," and tapped Goblin Slayer's card against it, waiting for his profile to load.
Phil leaned in to peer at the screen. "Ah, hybrid class! Look at this guy, Jack of all trades, huh? My cousin tried that once. Went with warlock and bard, 'cause he thought it'd make him a hit with the ladies." He chuckled, while shaking his head. "Last I checked, the only thing he's hittin' are beer bottles."
Goblin Slayer nodded, while shifting his weight under Dark Mage's bulk. "Are… Are you close with him?"
"Nah," Phil scoffed, with his lip curling in disgust. "Cousin's a piece'a work. Let's just say he's more… Into keepin' it in the family. If ya catch my drift."
"Oh." Goblin Slayer's eyes widened, recoiling slightly. "Um… That's…"
"Disgustin'? Yeah, we know," the other guard grumbled, eyes still glued to the tablet as he scrolled through Goblin Slayer's info.
"Right… Well, sorry to hear that." Goblin Slayer forced a small nod, with his voice barely audible under his helmet.
"'Eh, don't be kid— it wasn't my family dog who he was bangin'," Phil replied with a gruff chuckle, while still staring at Goblin Slayer's profile over his friend's shoulder.
"O… Oh..." The teen murmured with his eyes widened— the mental image of that alone made him feel queasy.
Finally, after a stomach-churning eternity, the guard looked back at Goblin Slayer with a smirk. "Well, looks like ya check out. Lucky for you, the guilds still hire kids. Hope ya get paid well enough to carry sleepyheads around." He teased, before looking over at Phil, who was already waving off a couple of backup guards who'd come over at the sight of Dark Mage.
"Nah, he's good," He called out to his co-workers, while nodding toward Goblin Slayer. "Just on a gig for Geotek, apparently— hired his autistic ass to go full retard on some Blackwatch jabronies. Darkie here's probably some big wig, or somethin'."
"Geotek?" Phil grinned, while raising a brow. "Ya better get hazard pay, kid. That corp'll squeeze ya dry if ya let 'em. Don't sign nothin' without a lawyer, capisce?"
"Lawyers?! Small fries like 'em?! Naaaah, Phil— ya got it all backwards, man," the guard retorted, with an amused smirk across his lips. "The Adventurers' Guilds are the ones who've got them suits on their side! These bozos, like this albino-clown right here? They're on their own— the guild ain't gonna stick their necks out for 'em! Not when Geotek and the other mega-corps're the ones paying their salaries!"
"REALLY?! God-DAMN, Johnny— ya bein' for real right now?!"
"Dead ass real, Phil. Dead. Ass."
"Sheeeesh, that's friggin' screwed up man," Phil chuckled with a wide grin across his face, as he turned his attention over to the gray-haired teenager, who was waiting by the end of the security conveyor. "Nevermind what I said about that hazard pay, kid— ya better off tryin' to see if chuckle-nuts on ya shoulder there is worth anything to the soldier-boys on Sunset Boulevard."
"Uh, thanks… That's what I was going to do," Goblin Slayer mumbled, while barely managing to juggle Dark Mage as he collected his gear from the conveyor belt. And as he fumbled his helmet back onto his head with one hand, the first guard chuckled before leaning close.
"Good luck, kid," he said with a wink. "And keep an eye on ya unconscious buddy there. Never know what kinda freaks ya meet in this town— like Phil's piece of shit cousin, for instance.
"Yeah! Watch out for ol' Charlie! He's a certified FREAK," Phil added, while laughing hysterically as him and Johnny began crap-talking his deviant cousin.
"Uh… I will. Thanks, again," Goblin Slayer muttered awkwardly, before giving a stiff nod as he pushed himself forward.
And with that, the crowd bustled around him as he left the checkpoint, while weaving through the terminal. He pulled in a shaky breath, clutching his shoulder strap and adjusting Dark Mage over his shoulder. The luggage area was just ahead— he could almost see it, a small reprieve from the station's madness.
Broreril's Royal Army precinct stood as a bastion of sleek power, with its structure casting long shadows on the streets below, while guarded by the faint shimmer of photonic fields that crisscrossed its facade in barely perceptible waves.
An intricate weave of light and energy pulsed along these barriers, casting gentle, prismatic hues on the metal framework beneath. The building itself rose with a quiet authority, with its modernistic lines and reflective glass panels cutting sharply into the coastal sky— creating a stark contrast with the softness of the Avalon Sea's breeze that drifted inland, tinged with salt and coolness.
Along the perimeter, watch towers punctuated the space, each tower a vigilant sentinel. Within, military police officers surveyed the grounds from behind panes of enchanted glass, with their watchful eyes fixed on screens that mapped out the precinct's grounds in layers of surveillance data and magical sigils.
Each guard house held an aura of calm intensity, with a quiet, almost reverent vigilance as the officers monitored every movement outside— their gaze as sharp as the sleek, angular towers they occupied.
On the ground, the officers moved with a measured, unhurried rhythm. Their uniforms were midnight blue with sharp black accents— the fabric reinforced with a strange metallic sheen that seemed to ripple with their movements, hugging their forms in tailored precision.
Leather belts sat snug around their waists, each one outfitted with sleek cuffs that glowed faintly with embedded tech— the metal adorned with intricate markings, both mechanical and mystical. From their belts hung polished batons, each handle etched with faint grooves and lines— extending silently into slender, lethal rods with a mere flick of their wrists.
Their firearms, dark and angular, rested against their backs, slung in well-practiced fashion, with the matte metal glinting only when it caught the light just so.
Their helmets were crafted with a fine, almost ceremonial precision— transparent visors extending seamlessly over their faces, allowing for visibility without the slightest compromise in protection. The transparent shields curved elegantly, catching glimmers of the sunlight— reflecting the deep, oceanic blue of the sky and the muted grays of the building's architecture.
Each officer was a figure of discipline and control, their gaze cutting through the crowds with quiet authority— their stance one of unwavering vigilance. They held the space with an air that was both calm and impenetrable, with a silent guarantee of safety within their invisible reach.
Beyond the photonic barriers, the main boulevard stretched in a smooth arc, leading back toward the coast, where the Avalon Sea unfolded in rippling shades of blue and green— its surface catching sunlight that danced off the waves.
The distant sound of crashing surf played softly beneath the hum of city life, adding a rhythmic pulse to the atmosphere, as if the sea itself lent a quiet heartbeat to this place.
Civilians moved in and out of the precinct's double doors, glancing nervously at the military police, who maintained a steady gaze without reaction. Some visitors lingered in the lobby, casting glances at the towering, reflective walls that stretched toward a ceiling veiled in clean lines and glass.
Past the lobby of the prescient, Goblin Slayer shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from Colonel Outis Kamiya's pristine mahogany desk— a name he learned, after glancing down at the small brass nameplate on the desk.
She barely seemed to notice him with how absorbed she was in the report on her monitor— her yellow eyes narrowing slightly as she read.
She was all business, from her well-pressed black jacket and white shirt to her perfectly centered red necktie. No nonsense, no frills. At her hip hung a sword, and the glint of two small gold earrings on her left ear was the only hint of anything personal.
After a few moments, she finally spoke, with her tone brisk. "According to the Brorerid County Jail records, you brought in one…" She squinted at the report, "Velkoron Eilruhn, this morning at ten forty-six." She read aloud, with eyes flicking over the details on the screen. "He's being held for interrogation, and we're reaching out to Geotek to begin building a case. Not that any of that is your concern," she added, as she moved the monitor aside to give him an assessing look.
Goblin Slayer nodded, while gripping his helmet a little tighter on his lap. "Uh… Yeah, no— you're right, it isn't. But uh… Since I brought him in and all…" He stammered slowly while hesitating, before then forcing himself to meet her gaze to say, "I was wondering about a possible reward?"
Hearing that, she raised an eyebrow, almost as if surprised he'd brought it up so directly. "Ah, the reward." She said, with her tone being neutral— almost indifferent. "The reward will be available once our investigation is complete and the case moves forward to grand court. The process is usually straightforward with Blackwatch cases, so expect it in about three months."
Upon hearing that, Goblin Slayer's face fell. "Three… Months?" He repeated, while trying to hide his disappointment, but regardless it crept into his voice— a quiet thread of hope deflating.
'So much for going on that shopping spree. Guess I'll have to be more budget conscious with my expenses.'
Colonel Kamiya watched impassively as he lowered his head slightly. "Yes. That's the time frame we're looking at." She said matter of tacitly, while adjusting her jacket slightly and settling back. "Blackwatch cases don't leave much room for delays, so it might even be sooner than that."
Goblin Slayer nodded, while trying to mask the weight of his disappointment. "Uh… Thanks. For letting me know." He said, though his voice had become quieter.
She then looked at him evenly, with her hands folded on her desk, and after a moment, added, "For future reference, would you like the check sent by mail, would you prefer to pick it up here, or would you rather a direct deposit?
'… What's direct deposit?'
Trying to not immediately come off as clueless, Goblin Slayer hesitated to respond. "Which one… I mean, which one's better?"
"Direct deposit's more efficient, but I'd need your bank account information." She said, while watching him— waiting. His discomfort must have shown, because her expression turned the slightest bit curious. "Am I to assume that you don't have a bank account?"
Goblin Slayer fumbled, as he felt his face heat up. "Uh… no, ma'am. Not yet. I… I don't have a lot of experience with money handling."
Colonel Kamiya nodded at his response, while being unfazed. "In that case, you'll want to set one up. There are several banks here in Brorerid. I'd recommend Army Federal Credit Union if you're looking for reliability." She said, with her tone clipped, and practical. "I've been with them for over thirty years— I've never had an issue with them, and their customer service reps all speak fluent Common."
"Army Federal Credit Union?" Goblin Slayer repeated back, with some uncertainty in his voice. "But… I'm not with the Royal Army. Can I… Can I even join through them?"
"Adventurers' Guild members qualify," she replied briskly, while beginning to tap at her keyboard. "I'll print you a map to the nearest branch."
"Oh. Thank you," Goblin Slayer muttered, while trying to shake off his awkwardness. And as she typed, she glanced back at him with a sharp look.
"Has the Guild paid you anything yet?"
"Uh, yeah… Well, not them directly, no," he said, before further elaborating, "Geotek's office gave me a thousand dollars when I checked in this morning. The manager said I didn't need to do anything else for the quest— that she would call them, and get it resolved." He explained, before adding, "She also mentioned something about… A Lorekeeper? Said it might make things easier for me?"
The corners of Colonel Kamiya's lips twitched upward, almost into a smile. "A Lorekeeper would be a wise investment. Every MP here is issued one. They streamline reports, communications, and navigation. I'll also add a map to the nearest Mystech store to the bank I'll be sending you to."
Goblin Slayer nodded, with a small smile tugging at his own lips. "Thank you." He said, while feeling a little relieved.
'Maybe that would make things a little easier. Especially with these quests.'
The printer on her desk soon whirred to life, and after a few seconds, Colonel Kamiya retrieved the papers.
Goblin Slayer shifted a little in his seat, with his gaze drifting to the neatly stacked papers in front of Colonel Kamiya. "Thank you, ma'am, for all this. I really appreciate it."
Kamiya gave a curt nod, her fingers already tapping away at her keyboard again, the sound filling the quiet office. Goblin Slayer stared at his helmet in his lap, then, after a pause, worked up the nerve to bring up, "I was also wondering about my shotgun…?"
Colonel Kamiya's brow shot up. "You mean the illegal firearm that railroad security wouldn't give back to you?" She asked rhetorically, with a voice that held a hint of irony that Goblin Slayer missed completely.
"Yeah," he nodded earnestly. "That one. And, uh, they wouldn't give me my ammo back either." He added with his face falling a little— like he'd been holding out hope for the return of his confiscated weapon.
Colonel Kamiya's lips twitched again— barely concealing a smirk. "Your looted shotgun, along with the rest of the contraband new adventurers love to bring into Brorerid, is locked up." She explained, while staring at his clueless expression.
"Oh…" Goblin Slayer murmured, with his shoulders slumped as he pieced it together. "So… I'm not getting it back then?"
"Correct," she said flatly. "Since it wasn't registered under your Guild License, the shotgun and your twenty-four rounds of buckshot are now in our custody." She explained, while picking up the printed maps, stapling them together with military precision.
It didn't take long for Goblin Slayer to let out a small, defeated sigh. "I can't be the only one that's had this happen to them… Does this happen a lot with other adventurers?"
"More than you'd think," she said, sliding the maps across the desk to him. "If you want a firearm, you'll need to bring your Guild ID to an Imperial Arms Dealer. But you won't walk out with a weapon right away. You'll need to get certified first, and then your access will be limited to level two or below armaments."
Hering that made Goblin Slayer raise a brow at her, with a mix of curiosity and hesitation in his eyes. "Level… Two?"
Kamiya nodded her head while leaning back in her chair to study him thoughtfully— casually raising her enclosed left hand up, before then extending out her thumb. "Level zero, "Ubiquitous Grade." Basic self-defense tools: tasers, pepper spray, short-bladed knives, crossbows, sports bows, blunt clubs. None of them are suitable for field use, though— not unless you're desperate, or specialize in those areas."
She then lifted her index finger next. "Then we have level one, "Civilian Grade." Small arms like semi-automatic rifles, shotguns, pistols. Good for home defense and hunting. As a side note, I recommend you getting a hunting license while you're in Broreril— to avoid getting fined. Anyway… Also included in grade one armaments are your typical bladed weapons— swords, concealed knives, axes."
Goblin Slayer nodded, intrigued, while feeling a bit like he was being let in on something important.
Kamiya's middle finger then came up. "That brings us to level two, "Field Grade"." She said, before unlatching her own sword from her hip with her other hand— unsheathing it with a smooth motion and placing it on the desk. "Field Grade armaments include weapons with high rates of fire, automatic firing, high-capacity magazines, and modification options. My sword here counts, thanks to its anti-mana enchantment I had installed into it."
Leaning forward as she showed him the hilt, Goblin Slayer noticed the small metal rectangle that was glowing with a faint purple hue while emitting a low hum. His eyes widened in fascination.
Colonel Kamiya then slid the sword back into its sheath with a practiced move, before raising her ring finger. "Now, level three, "Military Grade". You won't have access to this or anything above it." She stated, before pausing as Goblin Slayer's eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"Is it because I'm not in the Royal Army?" He ventured.
"That's part of it," she said with a nod, "but it's also because level three gear has to be ordered by a command station directly from a weapons manufacturer. For example, if I wanted an automatic grenade launcher, a guided missile launcher, or an anti-materiel rifle with explosive rounds, I'd have to fill out a requisition and get it approved by the CO in charge of the armory. I couldn't just go to the arms dealer, and buy it myself— even if I could afford to."
Hearing the mentioning of explosive ordinances, Goblin Slayer's mouth dropped open a little as he imagined using such devices for himself, with a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes.
He pictured himself staring down a massive, roaring dragon, before raising a rocket launcher with tubes fanning out in all directions. In his mind's eye, he pulled the trigger, launching a volley of spell-bound missiles, with each trailing multicolored light as they streaked toward the dragon— reducing it to ash in one spectacular blast.
Colonel Kamiya then raised her pinky, while amused by the awe in his eyes. "And lastly, level four: "Spellfire Grade"."
Goblin Slayer's jaw dropped a little more at the name. "Spellfire?"
Nodding, Kamiya's lips curved into a faint smile as she explained, "Level four armaments are powered by spellfire cores— able to fuel complex weapons and armor through ambient temperature superconductors. They include things like power armor, beam shields, mobile photonic generators and disruptors, plasma weapons, psicomm weapons, terraformers, wireless power relays, and so, SO much more," She said while trailing off— watching as his face lit up with pure wonder.
Goblin Slayer's mouth went dry, while his crimson eyes practically began glowing. 'I don't even know what half of that is, but it sounds incredible!'
"How does anyone even…?! Get stuff like that…?!" He asked, with his voice barely above a whisper.
Hearing his reverence for the aforementioned armaments, she shook her head. "They don't. Level four equipment isn't sold. It's developed exclusively by "Stormbringer Industries"— the Pendragon Empire's own subsidiary within the Ministry of Defense. Their work is classified as priceless. The only way you'd ever see Spellfire gear is by invitation to an unveiling ceremony, or… If it's being used on you." She said darkly, before chuckling as she added, "Though, let's be honest— people like us aren't getting those invitations, and aren't worth having them used on us. We'll just have to watch the videos online to get a look at what they're willing to show the public."
Hearing that, Goblin Slayer let out a quiet laugh himself, while still riding the high of everything she'd described— even if it felt like it was leagues beyond his reach, or even his full understanding.
"Look… Ashta," she began, with her tone softening just a bit, "before you go, I just want to apologize about that reward. Bureaucracy doesn't often accommodate quick turnarounds." She said, while holding his gaze for a moment, before then, almost as if on a whim, leaning further back in her chair and opened the top drawer of her desk. Pulling out a mess of odds and ends— some pens, a half-empty packet of tissues, a stray paperclip, she finally fetched a small red card.
Kamiya studied it for a moment, as if weighing its value, before offering it to him. "It was a gift at last year's Arcmiss party," She explained dryly. "I haven't used it. Lactose intolerance." She set it on the desk, pushing it slightly toward him. "Might as well go to a fellow weapon-enthusiast who can enjoy it."
It was a fifty-dollar gift card. "Peppino's Pizzeria", according to the text in flamboyant, slightly faded lettering. It was accompanied by a cartoonish, mustached man in a chef hat giving an enthusiastic "okay" sign.
Goblin Slayer stared down at, while momentarily deadpan, before he then let out a quiet, slightly disbelieving chuckle. "Thank you, ma'am." He said with genuine gratitude in his still amused voice, as he opened up his stuffed wallet to place it inside, before looking back up at her.
"Good work should always be rewarded," she said briskly, with her fingers already tapping away at her keyboard. "I'll pull up directions to Peppino's, in case you decide to make use of it after Mystech."