The receptionist stood frozen behind the counter, mouth still hanging open in a perfect "O" as the orc commander's severed head stared blankly up from the floor. Rebecca let out a soft, patient sigh, the kind a mother might give a daydreaming child.
"You there," she said gently but firmly, "can you fetch someone to appraise this, or shall I wait all day?"
The young woman blinked hard. "Ah—! I'm sorry! One moment, please!" She spun on her heel and practically fled through the door behind the counter, the sound of her hurried footsteps fading into the back room.
Rebecca waited a quiet beat, one hand resting lightly on the counter as the guild's usual murmur slowly resumed around them. Only then did she turn her attention to the four adventurers who had been so bold moments earlier. They were already backing away like startled cats, trying to melt into the crowd. She stepped forward smoothly, placing one hand on the shoulder of the nearest two. Her smile was sweet… but the edge in her eyes made the air feel heavier.
"And where do you gentlemen think you're going?" she asked, voice warm and motherly, yet laced with quiet menace.
The men froze mid-step. Slowly, they turned, heads bowing low.
"S-sorry, ma'am," one mumbled. "We didn't mean—"
Rebecca's smile stayed in place. "It's no trouble at all. But the four of you will be helping us out for the rest of the day. That's only fair, isn't it?"
The ringleader—the one whose wrist she had snapped—winced and tried to protest. "Wait, we can't just—"
"Are you refusing?" Rebecca tilted her head, still smiling. "Did you forget you just called my companion a whore?"
The man's face drained of color. "N-no, ma'am! We would be… more than glad to assist you."
A wide, genuinely cheerful smile bloomed across Rebecca's face. She gave each of them a firm, friendly pat on the back—hard enough that all four let out low, restrained grunts and staggered forward a step.
"Wonderful! I knew you boys were the helpful sort."
A few minutes passed in awkward silence while the guild folk stole glances at the unusual group. The back door finally swung open again. The receptionist reappeared, hurriedly straightening her uniform, cheeks still flushed. Right behind her stepped a burly, ragged man who looked more like a butcher than a guild appraiser—blood-stained apron, thick forearms, and a permanent scowl.
He took one glance at the pile of orc parts on the floor and grunted. "Bring it out back."
Rebecca turned to her new "helpers" with a bright smile. "You heard the man. That's your cue."
The four adventurers scrambled to obey, hastily gathering the bloody ears and lifting the heavy orc commander's head between them. They followed the butcher through the back door like scolded schoolboys, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Rebecca waited another moment, then stepped up to the counter once more. "Now, dear, may I register while we wait?"
The receptionist nodded quickly. "Of course, miss." She ducked below the counter, pulled out a crisp sheet of parchment, and slid it across with a quill. "Please fill this out."
Rebecca wrote neatly and without hesitation. When she slid the paper back, the receptionist scanned it, then paused.
"Moira…" she read aloud, eyebrows rising. "A last name… that's quite significant. It marks noble heritage. Is this information accurate?"
Rebecca nodded calmly. "It is."
The young woman continued reading, then blinked at the next line. "Thirty-six years old…" Her gaze drifted involuntarily over Rebecca's generous curves and youthful figure before she caught herself and blushed bright red.
Rebecca noticed and offered a soft, knowing smile.
The receptionist cleared her throat, stamped the paper with a firm thud, and tucked it away. She pulled out a fresh form. "Please answer these questions, miss."
"What weapon do you use?"
"Daggers," Rebecca answered smoothly.
The receptionist glanced at the massive scythe strapped across Rebecca's back, opened her mouth, then wisely closed it and wrote "Daggers."
"Do you use magic?"
"No."
The girl noted it down.
"Where do you live, and do you plan on settling down?"
"Travelling. Still travelling."
The receptionist's expression flickered into a faint frown at the casual answers, but she kept going. "Final question—preferred jobs?"
Rebecca's voice stayed perfectly even. "Noble requests, dungeon and labyrinth explorations, monster extermination, and war deployment."
The entire guild lobby went dead silent.
Noble requests—from the kind of entitled clients who could have you executed for the slightest mistake, or simply refuse payment and leave you stranded. And war deployment? Once you checked that box, the guild could force you into battle after only a handful of refusals.
The receptionist's pen hovered, her voice a little shaky as she explained the ranks to fill the heavy quiet. "Your card will start at E-rank. Complete enough quests and you'll rise to D, then C… B-rank adventurers can take mid-level dungeons and escort important merchants. A-rank opens the truly dangerous labyrinths and High-noble contracts most people avoid. S-rank… well, only a handful exist in the whole Empire. They handle Calamity-level threats. Everything is tracked by completed quests, not random kills—quality and difficulty matter more than quantity. The guild keeps strict records."
The heavy quiet was broken by the butcher and the four sweating adventurers returning from the back room. The burly man handed a slip of paper to the receptionist without a word.
She opened a drawer, counted out coins with practiced speed, and slid two pouches across the counter.
"Sixty silver caps for the orc commander and orc ears," she said to Rebecca. Then, to Lirael: "Eighteen silver and seventy copper caps for the Escort quest."
She slid a polished bronze card toward Rebecca next. "Your adventurer card. Don't lose it. Ranks run from E to S, just as I explained—your progress is tracked by completed quests, not random kills. Higher ranks unlock better requests and better pay."
Rebecca accepted the card with a gracious nod. "Thank you, dear. You've been very helpful."
She and Lirael turned to leave, the four adventurers still standing awkwardly by the counter. Rebecca glanced back at them with a warm smile.
"We're leaving, boys."
The four men jumped and hurried after them like loyal hounds, their footsteps falling into step on the bustling street outside.
Meanwhile, a slim figure dressed like a rogue slipped out of the guild right behind them. He pulled his hood lower and melted into the crowd, moving quickly in the opposite direction. No one paid him any mind.
As the group worked along the dusty road towards their inn, the afternoon sun beat down on the worn cobblestones of Batong's outer district. The air carried the faint scent of horse sweat, baked bread from nearby stalls, and the distant clang of a far-off forge. Rebecca suddenly halted mid-step, her posture perfectly straight, eyes calm in a way that felt just a little too steady. Without any explanation she turned and stepped into a narrow, shadowed alley between two weathered stone buildings, the walls stained with old rainwater and moss.
The rest of them — Lirael and the small escort party still trailing — looked confused, exchanging quick glances. Lirael's pointed ears twitched once. After a moment of hesitation they all followed her into the dim space, boots scraping softly on the uneven ground.
Rebecca reached into the folds of her cloak and proceeded to take out twenty silver Caps, the coins heavy and cool in her palm. She held them out to the ring leader of the adventurer party they had just met.
She then asked him his name.
The man blinked, surprised by the directness. "Greg, ma'am," he replied, voice rough from the road.
Rebecca then told him, her tone even and unhurried, "Greg, I want you and your party to use these funds and visit as many brothels as you can and return to the Alhery Inn first thing tomorrow morning."
Greg straightened up, shoulders squaring as he tried — and mostly failed — to hold back the wide, greedy grin spreading across his weathered face. His eyes gleamed with sudden anticipation. "Yes, ma'am."
The moment the adventurer party turned and left the alley, their laughter already bubbling up as they disappeared back into the sunlight, Lirael walked up to Rebecca. Her voice was low but sharp with confusion.
"Why did you do that?"
Rebecca replied without missing a beat, her expression mild and almost innocent. "Well who knows? I have no idea either."
Lirael's golden eyes narrowed, the words forming on her lips before she could stop them. "That means—"
Ora then began to explain inside her mind, the voice sliding in like cold tentacles wrapping around thoughts — smooth, possessive, and utterly certain.
*They are... my hosts... I have plans... them. Would you... want to volunteer? You'd... be much better.*
Lirael was shocked. A soft, involuntary murmur escaped her throat — not a question, not a protest, just pure surprise mixed with the faint shiver that ran down her spine as the hivemind's presence brushed against her thoughts.
Rebecca then interrupted gently but firmly, stepping closer so only Lirael could hear. "It was when I patted them on the shoulder back in the guild." She reached into her pouch again and proceeded to hand her thirty silver Caps, the coins clinking softly as they dropped into the elf's palm. "Go shopping for things that will help you on your travels."
Lirael stared at the money for a long second, fingers closing around the cool metal. She then said aloud, almost testing the word, "Travels…" before turning back to Rebecca, voice quieter but sincere. "I want to keep travelling alongside you."
Rebecca told her, tone final yet not unkind, "We will discuss this later."
As both of them exited the alley and stepped back into the bright street, Rebecca paused in the middle of the road. She looked left, scanning the bustling crowd and passing carts, then looked right toward the distant market stalls. A small sigh left her lips.
"I forgot to ask those four for directions to a blacksmith."