Chapter 87 — Four Bastion

  After a quiet night, Ivaline began her day exactly as she had the last few.

  Morning at the bakery—kneading dough, carrying trays, listening more than speaking.

  Late morning at the dye shop—turning fabric, checking vats, working in silence under Corvix’s watchful eye.

  Then the guild.

  Routine was safety.

  Routine was control.

  Today, the guild shattered that illusion.

  “Ivaline!”

  Mireya came running across the hall, skirts lifted just enough to keep from tripping, her expression bright enough to stop conversations mid-sentence.

  Ivaline turned. “Yes?”

  “The investigation concluded!”

  Ivaline blinked once. “…Goblin?”

  “No! The orphanage!”

  “…Ah.”

  That made sense.

  A while back, Mireya had quietly posted a notice—nothing dramatic. No accusations. No names. Just a request to investigate irregularities in orphanage funding.

  Apparently, the right person had noticed.

  “The baron himself caught wind of it,” Mireya said, lowering her voice as she pulled Ivaline aside. “He launched his own inquiry. Official. Discreet.”

  She leaned closer, eyes shining despite herself.

  “The party in charge arrived this morning. They delivered the missing funds personally. Directly to the orphanage.”

  Ivaline paused.

  “…Delivered?”

  “Yes. In full.”

  No intermediary.

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  No delays.

  No excuses.

  “And,” Mireya added, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, “they noticed the goblin situation while they were here.”

  She straightened, visibly pleased.

  “They volunteered as reinforcements.”

  Ivaline looked up.

  “What’s more,” Mireya said, a grin breaking through her professionalism, “they’re a Silver-rank party.”

  Ivaline tilted her head slightly. “Silver rank… party?”

  Mireya coughed.

  “…Right. You wouldn’t automatically know the distinction.”

  She shifted into explanation mode.

  “Adventurers are ranked individually—Copper, Iron, Silver, and so on. But sometimes, a party is evaluated as a whole.”

  She ticked the criteria off on her fingers.

  “Coordination. Tactics. Planning. Leadership. How well they fight together—not just how strong each person is alone.”

  “So,” Mireya continued, “you can have three Iron ranks and one Copper, but if together they fight at—or above—the level of a solo Silver-ranked adventurer…”

  “The guild registers them as a Silver-rank party,” Ivaline finished quietly.

  Mireya smiled. “Exactly.”

  Ivaline stand still for a while.

  “…The party,” she asked. “What are they called?”

  Mireya’s expression shifted—professional now.

  “They’re registered as Four Bastion.”

  Ivaline looked up slightly.

  “They’ve got a clean record,” Mireya continued. “Finished multiple Iron- and Silver-rank quests without casualties. Defensive operations, escort missions, suppression work. Reliable. Thorough.”

  She paused, then added, almost carefully,

  “And their mage—Seraphine. [Emerald Gale].”

  Ivaline’s fingers stilled.

  “Wind magician,” Mireya said. “Very capable. She can scan wide areas using air currents, map movement, terrain, even breathing patterns if she focuses. Her area control is excellent—Lesser Storm for disruption, Gale Guard for defense, and Wind Cutter for rapid strikes.”

  A faint note of respect crept into her voice.

  “She reshapes the field rather than overpowering it.”

  Mireya continued smoothly.

  “Their leader, Aldric, specializes in formation control and command. Strong sense of justice. Doesn’t overreach.”

  “Bram—ex-Templar—is his right hand. Speaks little. Holds the line. Acts like a shield for anyone behind him.”

  “And Nyssa,” she finished, “is their scout. Trap disarming, ambush setup, infiltration. If something dies quietly, it’s usually her work.”

  Mireya looked at Ivaline.

  “They function like a wall that moves.”

  A brief silence followed.

  Then—

  Ivaline nodded.

  That meant reliability.

  Discipline.

  Experience.

  Real reinforcement.

  Her thoughts drifted, unbidden.

  Ray E. Shine.

  The Brave.

  His adventurer badge had gleamed silver as well.

  “…I see,” Ivaline said.

  Mireya studied her carefully.

  Between the orphanage funds restored, a Silver-rank party reinforcing the goblin operation, and a fifteen-year-old girl quietly connecting implications faster than most veterans—

  The day had become unexpectedly heavy.

  And for once—

  The chaos felt like it was leaning in the right direction.

  Chronicle observed in silence.

  Threads were converging.

  Not because fate demanded it—

  —but because people, independently and quietly, had chosen to act.

  And that, Chronicle knew,

  Had always been far more dangerous than destiny.