Shapeless Hero

32 - Closing The Day

Just like yesterday, the adventurers returned en masse to the guild hall, as is noticeable from the lodgings area every time. The commander leans back in her chair and sips on a spirit the locals produced. Next to her sits Sterl, who observes the tiny waves caused by swirling her own mug.

"Will she really make it?", Sterl asks with concern, looking over to the empty bed.

"The doctor is competent.", the commander says, intentionally avoiding any statement of certainty. She trusts Karl to make the right choices, but he's not exactly an expert in medicine.

Sterl just came back from one of the quests and decided to stop by. The commander isn't sure if it was a good idea to act that friendly with her, but this way, she can at least keep an eye on Sterl, while Alya's body double is out on an errand.

The commander takes another sip. "I have to say, they really improved the recipe."

"Wait, you had this before?" Sterl's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "Well, the brewer will be happy to hear, that an imperial commander took a liking to it!"

Said imperial commander chuckles. "I'm not sure, Tyllat's aristocracy will like to hear, that a foreigner has more value in terms of branding."

"For a foreigner, you sure know a lot about the branding methods of Tyllat.", Sterl comments. 

Only now, does the commander remember that Tyllat's connection between the aristocracy and brewers is rather unique. In fact, the whole idea to see branding as an important aspect of business can be traced back to Tyllat. She smiles. May that insignificant point go to Sterl. "You've got me there. If you really want to hear some stories though, ask Kella."

"What makes you think, I didn't do that already?"

"I'm pretty sure, you never asked her to tell the stories about a dark elf, who just happens to look like a younger version of me.", the commander responds with a grin.

"Wait, why would I..." Sterl takes a better look at the commander, then it clicks for her and she laughs. "Right. Commanders have no past, ey? I'll ask Kella about 'that dark elf' that looks like you." She winks before finally standing up.

The commander raises her mug as farewell. "Thanks for bringing the drink."

Sterl makes her way to the door. "No problem. I'll bring some more, once Alya's back on her feet."

"Please do."

The commander's smile fades after the door shuts behind Sterl. How long has it been, since she could relax light that? It all feels like a dream after all those decades in the imperial army. And it certainly will feel like a dream, once she's back at her real post for another few decades.

She glances over to the deck of cards, that lays untouched on the table and hums. "What set do we need for that 'Skat' again...?" Maybe there's one thing she can bring back to her troops from here.

#

"Something doesn't add up.", Rev says, one finger on his chin. He puts aside another sheet of paper, his eyes already on the next written report.

"Hm? Found something spicy?" Kella looks up from the freshly polished counter. The adventurers sure do like to make a mess, when drinking. Only once they're gone, is it worth it to clean up. 

"I'd be more at ease if there was anything at all.", Rev responds. "You would expect to hear about some altercations, if a family of nobles had a dispute fierce enough for somebody to flee from their home country. In case of lady Fylka, no such reports about her or her family exist. No reports within Tyllat would be one thing... but none at all?"

Kella nods. "Yeah, sounds fishy. And it's not just because her family is too insignificant?"

Rev points at Kella with his pen. "One would think that, yes, but every noble family is at least mentioned in the public records of their respective nation. There's not a single mention of a family, that would even remotely fit lady Fylka's looks, sibling constellation or skills."

"Right... well, that's enough digging, I think.", Kella says, her decreasing interest apparent.

Rev raises a brow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I told them, I wouldn't stick my nose into their matters. I'd like to keep my word."

"That's not like you, if I may say."

"Considering the personality of the commander, it absolutely is like me. Get back to verifying the quest listings, please."

The word 'please' from Kella's mouth is a clear sign to shut up, so Rev switches to the mentioned task right away. But as a former investigator, his mind can't let go of lady Fylka and her circumstances. And what does Kella mean, when referring to the personality of the comma—

Rev gets whipped by Kella's tail. "Oi, I can tell you're still playin' hobby detective in your head.", the guild master says.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Rev hastens his paperwork processing. He can still feel the impact of the lizard-kin's tail.

#

Clint carefully props up Fylka against the wall, her legs stretched out on the ground. He takes a few steps back to see, if she has any injuries he might have missed. To his relief, the only scratches on her come from collapsing to the ground.

He crosses his arms, trying to wrap his mind around what just transpired. Clint couldn't make out a lot through the shutters. He saw her talking to an elven man, before she vanished out of the window view. At some point, a gentleman in dark clothes, wielding a peculiar cleaver appeared from below, as the fog of tranquilizer dissipated. After a few explosions outside, the attackers fled, when the man created a hostage situation from the sound of it. While Clint has hearing good enough to have heard some of the invisible perpetrators, the man with the cleaver knew their exact number, leading him to believe, that he might be from Rev's former investigation unit.

Clint's thought bubbles pop, as lady Fylka starts to move again. She stretches her arms and legs. She locks eyes with Clint.

"Who was that man?", Clint asks straight to the point.

"Man?", she asks back, still dazed.

Clint clicks his tongue. "The one who made them leave? An ally of yours?"

Fylka's stares at Clint for a moment, as if gears in her mind were just starting to move. "Ah, right. Yeah, you could call him an ally.", she answers.

Clint rolls his eyes. Those nobles. As if a simple "yes" could have killed her.

Fylka stands up and brushes the dirt off her leggings. "How long was I out anyway?"

"Roughly a minute, I'd say."

"That's less than last time, nice!"

Less than last time? This is normal to her? She sounds like a healing alcoholic celebrating their barely decreasing amount of mugs drunk in a day.

Fylka puts her hands on the hips. "You've got what you came for?", she asks Clint.

"Yep." He taps the sack attached to his belt. "It's all here. We can go back."

"What's in it, if I may ask?"

He narrows his eyes, while keeping a hand on the sack. "I'd rather not tell."

"Okay." She shrugs her shoulders and turns to the main road. "Well then, let's not keep Kella waiting!"

He watches the weird noble walk towards the road. Nobody would be able to tell, that she just survived an encounter with six trained rogues, considering her laid-back attitude. Then again, she had a powerful ally on standby. Clint releases the tension in his own shoulders and exhales. Despite her suspicious manners, she's good to have around.

"You like my backside that much, huh?", she says looking back to Clint over her shoulder.

"What? No!", he responds with a slight fluster. He quickly catches up to her, while she chuckles at his reaction. What kind of weird family produces someone like her?