Eccentric Jobs as a Realm Dweller

The Quest Manager

The Office of Impossible Quests

At the edge of the world, there stood a squat, unassuming building. From the outside, it looked rather like a bakery that had given up on bread and settled for paperwork instead. A crooked wooden sign above the door read:
"Quest Bureau: Where Legends Are Made and Managed"

Inside this rather modest establishment, however, chaos reigned supreme. Stacks of scrolls towered dangerously, some teetering as if contemplating a leap to freedom. Swords, shields, and the occasional enchanted boot leaned against the walls, waiting for their owners to return from heroic ventures (if at all). The faint smell of dragon scale polish with the scent of singed parchment, and somewhere in the back, a crystal ball was trying to connect to the magical equivalent of a busy signal.

And there, amidst it all, sat Quinton Quibblebottom, manager of the whole motley operation. His desk was a battleground of its own—quills, inkpots, and letters of complaint fighting for space among crumpled quest forms. If anyone were to describe Quinton in one word, it would be "frazzled," though "overworked" and "perpetually on the verge of a minor breakdown" would also do quite nicely.

His job? It was simple enough in theory: keep the world of adventurers running smoothly. You see, heroes were not exactly known for their organizational skills. A knight might be brilliant at skewering goblins, but give them a calendar and they'd probably try to slay it. Wizards, too, were notorious for turning in quest forms written entirely in cryptic runes, which made scheduling them for a dragon battle on a Tuesday particularly tricky.

And that was where Quinton came in.

He assigned quests, organized heroic expeditions, and, more often than not, made sure that adventurers didn't accidentally wander into someone else's storyline. From goblin raids to lost treasure hunts, it was Quinton who turned a mess of scribbled requests into something resembling a functional questing industry.

But despite his best efforts, things didn't always go according to plan.

Just last week, he'd accidentally scheduled a "Retrieve the Amulet of Eternal Cheese" quest for three different adventurers at once. The resulting kerfuffle had led to a minor food shortage in the kingdom and a duel over the world's most confusing sandwich. Then there was the time he misfiled a request for a simple village cleanup, and it turned into an all-out siege against a particularly tidy horde of orcs (who were, unfortunately, very insulted).

Still, Quinton loved his job—mostly because someone had to do it, and he was the only one daft enough to think he could.

This morning, however, as the sun rose over the mountains and birds chirped cheerfully (oblivious to the day's impending madness), Quinton had no idea that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his career.

But for now, as he sat sipping his third cup of lukewarm tea and flipping through a particularly confusing quest request (something about a cursed teapot and an enchanted donkey), he was blissfully unaware of the chaos that awaited him.

Had he known, he might have done something radical. Like take a holiday.

But, alas, Quinton Quibblebottom never took holidays.

And that was precisely how the trouble always began.

The Case of the Bungled Dragon

On the particularly sunny morning, Quinton was not having a good day. The Quest Sorting Machine (a creaky, brass contraption that hummed and spat out scrolls like an over-caffeinated librarian) had just belched out something dreadful. Quinton peered at the crumpled scroll in his hands and sighed a sigh that could have blown a dandelion flock.