Chapter 89 — Before the Storm
The day before the subjugation plan was finalized, Ivaline arrived at the guild shortly after noon.
Her morning had been routine.
She informed Edwyn at the bakery first—tomorrow she would be absent. A quest. One day only.
He frowned, handed her an extra roll, and told her to eat properly.
Then Corvix at the dye shop.
He listened in silence, waved a hand, and muttered that she should at least have the decency not to die where he couldn’t see the body.
Neither protested.
That was enough.
So she went to the guild.
The moment she opened the door and stepped inside, a sharp voice cut through the hall.
“Ha? Who’s this shorty?”
Ivaline paused just inside the threshold.
“Isn’t today supposed to be closed for goblin subjugation planning?” the same voice continued, openly irritated. “Why’s there a kid wandering around?”
Another voice followed—male, calmer. Measured.
“Seraphine. Look at her attire.”
A third chimed in, curious.
“She’s wearing a badge. Copper.”
A fourth—lighter, amused.
“Nyan? She’s tiny! Isn’t she the same one we saw here yesterday evening?”
Ivaline lifted her eyes.
Four adventurers stood near the center of the hall.
Iron badges—iron base, silver trim.
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A silver-ranked party.
Four Bastion, she concluded. Mireya’s reinforcements.
The elf woman at the center studied Ivaline like one might inspect a stain on silk—irritation mixed with disdain.
“Kid,” she said coolly, “that badge isn’t a toy. Hand it back to the guild before you embarrass yourself.”
She reached out.
Ivaline stepped aside—just enough to avoid the hand, not enough to escalate.
“This is mine,” she said evenly. “Mireya and the guild master issued it to me.”
“…Ha?”
The elf’s expression twisted.
Disbelief.
Then offense.
Then something sharp enough to cut.
“You?” she snapped. “A half-blood brat qualified as an adventurer? Don’t lie to my face.”
Before Ivaline could reply—
“No,” a voice cut in smoothly. “She didn’t lie.”
Garrick stepped forward from the edge of the hall.
He was smiling—but not the careless grin he wore with friends. This one was deliberate. Grounded.
“I can vouch for her.”
The elf turned on him instantly.
“And who,” she asked, “might you be?”
“Garrick. Iron-rank adventurer,” he replied. “You must be Seraphine of Four Bastion. Emerald Gale, right? Your party’s well known.”
For a heartbeat, it seemed the situation might cool.
Then Seraphine lifted her chin.
A smug curl touched her lips.
“Oh?” she said lightly. “So she’s your little plaything?”
The word landed wrong.
Heavy. Poisoned.
“This branch’s standards must be impressively low,” Seraphine continued, voice carrying easily through the hall, “for a washed-up human to vouch for his mistress.”
Her gaze flicked back to Ivaline.
“What—couldn’t find a better woman? Or is she just a mascot?”
She laughed once, sharp and cruel.
“A middle-aged pedophile. How quaint.”
The guild hall went dead silent.
Conversations stopped mid-word.
Hands froze halfway through motions.
Even the clerks behind their desks looked up.
Some bristled at the insult to the branch.
Others glared outright at Seraphine—for dragging a child into it.
Garrick’s smile vanished.
“…Take that back.”
“Oh?” Seraphine tilted her head. “The pedophile part?”
“Not just that,” Garrick said quietly.
His hand rested on his sword hilt—not threatening, but present.
“You insulted this guild. And you insulted her.”
He glanced at Ivaline, brief and certain.
“She’s the real deal.”
Seraphine scoffed. “You’re still pushing that farce?”
Garrick took one step forward.
“Then I challenge you,” he said, voice firm and clear.
“A duel. To uphold this guild’s honor—and the girl’s.”
A ripple ran through the hall.
Seraphine’s eyes widened—just a fraction. Enough to notice.
For the first time, she measured Garrick not as noise—but as weight.
The air tightened.
And between them—
Ivaline stood silently, expression blank.
Not frightened.
Not offended.
Simply… late.
Things had escalated far faster than she had calculated.
