The attendant frowned for the first time George had seen. Her dark brown bangs appeared black, as dread itself against hew pale forehead. “If you had anything to do with this…” She breathed in. “The guild will respond.”

“I’ve done nothing,” Morris said, unfazed by the sudden interruption.

“It was graldor.” The man who gave the news of the attack stepped forward to the center of the room. His clothes showed visible signs of wear and were covered in dirt and dust. His face was just as ragged, dripping with sweat, and his hair black hair was whisked about.

Morris scoffed and approached the man. In comparison to his muscled body, highlighted by an excessive set of armor, the figure before him shrunk. Morris shrunk him further as he pressed his body into the man’s space. “Graldor, you say? So, Ardel can’t handle a small group of raiders by itself?”

The Ardelian puffed his chest. “We repelled the initial attack,” he said assertively. “And this wasn’t just a group of raiders.”

“Are you hearing this?” Morris turned to the attendant.

“The guild and Meriford will provide plenty of assistance to Ardel,” she chimed in, molding herself from wicked witch to friendly neighbor in an instant.

“No.” Morris gritted his teeth. “The guild can do what it wants. But I’m not sending any of my men to what sounds to me like an Ardelian trap. Especially not when we’re not finished dealing with our own problem.”

“Your problem?” the Ardelian inquired.

Morris winced. George felt less bad about eavesdropping earlier, knowing that Morris was terrible at keeping sensitive information secret.

The attendant sighed. “I suppose the concern is valid. Both Ardel and Meriford’s actions have been less than friendly to one another as of late. How urgent is the matter?” It seemed a wild question to ask someone who’s breathing was still shabby from running between cities.

“As I said, the initial attack was repelled, but-“

“So, there’s time for verification?” Morris asked.

The ragged man’s jaw hung loose. “I- I guess so.”

“Good,” the attendant said before raising her voice. “Who here would like to go with this man on a trip to Ardel?” Looking around the room at the workers waiting for compensation, tired from their ordeals at the lake, she didn’t see any immediate volunteers.

“We’ll go.” Lestra stepped out and spoke for the group.

George and Donald looked at her puzzled. She hadn’t been outgoing since moving to Meriford. It was a surprise to George that she had even left her lodge after being called up to help deal with the burrow worm. But now she volunteered to go on a reconnaissance mission to different city. She couldn’t have had any attachment. It was after all, another city of man.

The attendant pursed her lips. They were still very new to the guild, and the mission was important. “Now I won’t doubt the capabilities of a trained elven princess such as yourself, but…” She examined George’s physique and the thickness of Donald’s grimoire “I think one more person with a bit of experience should accompany you. Oh! I know just who. A rising star in the Meriford guild. He’s on scout duty now, but he’ll no doubt be back soon and eager to help out. Why don’t just wait here until then?”

They waited at the same table George had slept at on his first night. He once more found himself sitting across from Lestra, but this time, he wasn’t so intimidated that he couldn’t speak to her. From living in the same lodge, he had found her reclusive habits to be similar to his own before arriving to Telora. Even if it was in large part due to her own change in scenery.

“What makes you so invested in this mission?” George asked.

“W-what do you mean? I’m trying to help someone in need,” Lestra said. “That’s what the guild does, isn’t it?”

Donald snickered. Even he, who had wrapped himself in a book as soon as he sat down, could sense the sheer nonsense spewing from her mouth.

George smiled. He wasn’t generally the pushy type, and he hated being pushed himself, but he remembered his first conversation with her. She was quite pushy when she tried to call his fake injury out. “Come on,” he said.

Lestra looked to the ceiling- a rather poor attempt at disguising her dishonesty. “Fine,” she said, realizing George wouldn’t buy her first response. “He said it was graldor. For elves, that holds a bit more weight. I’ve grown up knowing children that have disappeared, their huts ransacked, and stories of bloody battles are woven through our culture.”

“She means she’s scared,” Donald whispered to George.

“I’m not scared, I’m just- They’re aggressive. The graldor can’t help themselves. When a graldor tribe gets large enough, it gets cocky and decides it can take on a niefdom.”

George shifted in his chair and clung to its stiff back. He felt like he had just heard a racist joke. Every time she said graldor, she had said it with vitriol, a growl behind closed teeth. No one around the room seemed to mind though. The judgmental glances he always imagined never came. The other guild workers, standing in line for their stipends, most likely couldn’t even hear them or were too tired to bother. Aside from his fear of judgement, though, he had his own moral compass to worry about. There were usually two sides to this kind of thing. But what if there wasn’t? Since when did goblins, or orcs, or demons have their own noble causes? Regardless, it sounded like they had a history of attacking the elves. He wasn’t going to criticize her for disparaging the people she knew as slaughterers of her kin. He held silent and nodded for her to continue on.

“And they lose. They always lose, and that usually means the end of that tribe. Which is why it doesn’t make sense that they would attack a human city. The ones in the cave, they were too scrawny to attack us, you remember right? To some tiny extant, that same principle applies all the way up, from the raiding parties to the tribes. It's why we-” she patted her chest. “We have always been the ones to deal with their outbursts. We’re the easier prey.” She shook her head. “I want to know if it’s true.”

At last, the doors opened.

“There he is,” the attendant said. “Good to see you back, Andrew.”

George didn’t recall ever hearing her welcome someone by first time before. He turned to see who had just walked inside. It was the scout that saved them in the lake. He hung an eel of sorts around his shoulders. Its spiny fin arched behind his neck, and like a pauldron, the plated head of the silver fish guarded his left shoulder. His skin glinted from water droplets under the white lights. His hair was still wet, but the full glow showcased more of its lighter identity and the slight reddish hue that augmented it. He was fairly young, no more than a few years older than George, fitting perfectly in their group. Comparing Andrew’s looks to his own, George couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. Even the attendant seemed enamored in his emerald eyes.

“I hope you aren’t too tired,” the attendant said.

“Certainly not.” The ridges of Andrew’s face beamed as he smiled.

“Good, I have another mission for you. Have you met princess Lestra and her group?”

“Just recently. Saw them out in the lake. They fought admirably.”

“That’s great. There’s a special task Lestra wants to take part in, that involves heading to Ardel and you’d be the perfect man to accompany her. I can think of no better show of faith than Meriford sending its best! I’ll get the supplies ready.” She ran off, stranding the line of guild workers still waiting to receive their stipends.

“Wow, you must really be something,” Donald said. “I mean, if she’s willing to actually go out of her way to get what we need- she will get supplies for all of us and not just you, right?”

“I’m sure she will.” There was an empty seat next to Lestra, but rather than take it, he brought over a different chair from another table. He placed it at a fully unoccupied side and sat there. In doing so, he made himself appear almost as a leader of the group. A king at the end of a long table. “As for me, I can’t say I’m too special. The guild likes to make heroes. Helps morale, and more importantly gives the city something it can be proud of- something linked to the guild at that. But you also don’t want people to become envious, so I like to remain humble.”

George rolled his eyes and his nose curled from the fishy stench wafting from Andrew’s shawl. Humble, right? Then sit with the rest of us. We’re a team, not a monarchy. All parts equal. Were they a team? Lestra literally was royalty, and the attendant referred to them as her group. She didn’t allow for much a vote when volunteering them. But she never bothered to take full command, nor prop herself up. They were a team. Right? He kept quiet, as a mere infantry man should.

“How about you?” Andrew looked to the elf. “Lestra, right? I don’t see any other elves outside the niefdoms. And she said you were a princess?”

Lestra nodded. “Princess of Vaaliya.”

“Wow! And the guy over here said I was special? I mean, Vaaliya’s not just any niefdom. They’re what, second in stature?”

Lestra gave him a smirk in return for the flattery. “If I ever admitted to being behind Alfreya, there would an uprising.” She chuckled.

“I’m Donald,” Donald said, interrupting the two as Lestra’s blue eyes locked with Andrew’s amber.

“George,” George followed up.

“Mhm.” Andrew barely gave them a nod of acknowledgement. “Mind briefing me about what this mission is?”

“That would be my job, I suppose.” The ragged Ardelian, who despite their differences had been planning things with Morris, joined in and took the seat next to Lestra. “I’ll take you to Ardel, usual route. There, I’ll make sure you’re informed about the events that transpired by our officials, and guild officials. You’ll see the aftermath of the fighting: signs of damage, the entry points- and corpses. Human and graldor. Last…” he sighed. “Morris wants me to take you to where they retreated, where we believe they’re set up. Just a quick look in secret to show that the threat is still out there.”

“What’s your name?” Andrew smiled confidently. He didn’t need any more detail about the mission. Just his name. It made a good breather for a subject which had clearly come to discomfort the Ardelian.

“Randall,” he said.