Misterion made his way towards the Adventurers’ Guild with a sour expression, holding Chrono’s hand. He pulled up a black cloth from beneath his orange scarf, masking the lower half of his face. Chrono followed dutifully, but gave his father a curious look. As his bag swayed against his side, red eyes peeped out, equally curious. 

Once they were in front of the Guild Misterion paused, gritting his teeth as he glared at the building, mentally fortifying himself. Get this over quickly and get the hell out. In and out. Misterion heaved a sigh and pressed forward, Chrono holding tightly as he took a begrudging step towards the doors. 

From above a robed man was looking out the window, his monocle catching slightly in the last of the sun’s light. As he looked down from the office he startled and turned on his heel, disappearing from the window.

Talk to the clerk, update her on the situation, let her send the message to the Guildmaster, and leave. Right, that’s the plan. Misterion went over the strategy in his head, his frown deepening as he beelined for the nearest desk, Chrono in tow. As he charged forward in large precise strides he earned various looks, some bewildered and others disgusted.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Gross. Clearly new. Members know to clean before entering or going out back.” 

“Looks like a bum to me. The Guild should kick him out.”

“By the gods, ever hear of a bath?!”

Chrono cast a confused look around at the stares as well as the inside of the building. The Adventurers were well kept as well as the facilities, no sign of muck or smell—except what his father brought in. He looked up at Misterion’s expression as he took a careful sniff, finding it didn't smell like the sewer had backed up. It was nothing like what his father had said, puzzling the boy. 

The mapmaker ignored the looks and comments, eyes set on the clerk’s desk. A cat-like Beastman was manning the desk, her fur a calico pattern, but lacking horns. Faint nubs could be seen on the side of her head, evidence of the horns being cut, nearly blending in unnoticed with her fur.

“Good evening. How can I help you, sir…?” The calico Beastman seemed at a loss but offered her best customer service smile. Her eyes quickly scanned Misterion, taking in his dirty appearance before glancing at Chrono who stared back with wide eyes from below the desk.

“I’m not going to stay long. I have a message, please pass it to the Guildmaster.” The clerk was startled at the declaration, but Misterion didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Tell Guildmaster Yosef that Syssmi is in a clinic somewhere in the city. He should visit her soon and get details on the situation from her.”

“R-right,” the clerk stuttered, surprise and worry crossing her features. “May I know your name so I can properly relay to Sir Yosef?”

“Just Mapmaker will do. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Misterion kept his grip on Chrono’s hand as he began to turn. Footsteps came rushing up behind him, panting and a stream of curses being muttered. There was the distinct sound of a foot slipping with a squeak as if the owner turned a sharp corner, earning a louder curse.

“WAIT, MAPMAKER!”

Misterion tensed at the shout, feeling the blood leave his face as the hurried footsteps approached with the energy of a champion runner. Shit! He reached down and scooped Chrono under his arm like a rolled up newspaper, sweat breaking out.

In large strides he raced for the exit, the footsteps behind him getting closer and more frantic. He was an inch from the door, hand reaching for the handle, fingers brushing, when a heavy hand touched his shoulder suddenly. The grip was like a vice, causing him to stop. Heavy breaths were nearly in his ear, tired and frustrated.

Behind Misterion Jonesy was panting, sweat beading his forehead. The older man was smiling tensely, fingers digging into the mapmaker’s shoulder. “My friend, didn’t I tell you to wait?” Around them excited whispers and conversation broke out.

“Master Jonesy knows him?”

“The Assistant Guildmaster doesn’t associate with just anyone!”

“Who the heck is that guy?”

“Is he undercover…?” 

Misterion bit back on an annoyed sigh, sucking in his breath. So much for following the plan. Slowly he turned around, expression flat while Chrono looked at the two men, thoroughly confused. “Sorry, didn’t hear you with all the noise. In a bit of a hurry.”  

“Nonsense!” Jonesy exclaimed with a wider smile. Misterion swore his monocle gave off a sinister shine; the thought deepened as Jonesy threw an arm over his shoulder, hanging around his neck as if he were meeting an old friend. He had Misterion thoroughly caught, trapped by the intimidating smile and vice grip as he stood nearly half a head taller.

Before Misterion could say more he was being pulled towards the clerk. Try as he might digging in his heels, leaving a visible mark on the floor as well as an audible screech of protest, the Assistant Guildmaster pressed on. 

“What brings you here? Have you finally decided to work with us, Mapmaker? Then let us proceed to the office! You and I will have a very long talk, hoho.”

Misterion felt as though the room were about to swallow him up, pressure building. Eyes were on him and one of the Guild’s bigwigs had him literally in his clutches, strong-arming him. “Can you let me go? I’m here to send a message, not joining your ranks. We’ve discussed this.” He frowned, his grip around Chrono’s waist tightening protectively.

“A message?” Jonesy’s interest piqued as they neared the desk, the clerk watching in part fascination and worry.

“Yes.” Misterion grabbed the arm trapping him and freed it from his neck. He placed Chrono on the ground before glaring at the persistent man. “You can ask the clerk for details. Now, if you don’t mind, I have matters to attend to.” He barely had taken a step when Jonesy latched on to his arm, halting him once more.

“Why don’t you stay for a while, for old time’s sake? It’s been seven years since we properly talked and we have yet to discuss why you quit all of a sudden! You look the same! And you’re toting a kid around too! Ever the secretive one! You never mentioned you had a son!” Jonesy smiled down at Chrono, still unrelenting with his hold.

“You know what, I have this wonderful tea that I got from Niyebe village. Oh, I can also prepare you and your son a feast!” Jonesy offered with a light laugh. He looked at the clerk, smiling. “So what’s the message about?”

“A-about that.” The clerk hurriedly rounded the desk, whispering in his ear. After a few moments Jonesy nodded his head, face taunt with a hint of a thought.

“Is that so?”

Next thing Misterion knew he was being dragged further through the Guild. He focused mana to his feet, enhancing them, but to no avail as the older, but more powerful man pulled him along as if he were a child’s toy. In their wake was a mess of destroyed floor boards, earning wide eyed looks as Adventurers watched the trail of destruction.

“Where in Ina’s name are you taking me?!” Misterion demanded through gritted teeth, leaning back. He dug in his heels the best he could, ignoring the loud sounds of splintering wood.

“To Sir Yosef.”

“Tch,” Misterion loudly expressed his frustration, his deepening frown hidden behind his mask. He glanced back at the clerk who looked equally curious and mortified at the one-sided tug-of-war. In a stern loud voice, tired, but semi-foreboding, he instructed, “Keep an eye on my son, I’ll be back soon.”  

The clerk gave a sharp nod while Chrono watched with a terrified expression. He started after his father who was clearly being dragged away against his will. The Beastman extended a paw in front of him, gently blocking the way. She had a soft, reassuring expression on her cat-like face.

“Please don’t follow them. Your father will be back. He and Master Jonesy must talk to Sir Yosef.” She gestured to a nearby bench, bending down slightly to seem less threatening. “You can wait here for him. Please, we wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

Chrono’s eyes grew round and he shook his head. As he took a step towards where his father disappeared, a yellow tendril reached out from his bag, curling around his hand. He halted, startled, glancing down at the tendril lightly holding his hand, trying to soothe him. He looked back once more and heaved a small sad sigh. 

Dejected he turned and sat himself down where the clerk had gestured, the tendril still holding his hand gently. Behind him everyone stared at where the two men had disappeared, others glancing at the mangled floor, perplexed. 

“Who on Ina was that guy?” 

“That guy is a beanpole! How’d he resist Master Jonesy?” 

Whispers and chatter became a buzz in the background, excited and confused as Adventurers gossiped and gawked. Chrono curled his hand around the yellow tendril, flexing nervously. Meanwhile the clerk, keeping an eye on him, hurriedly grabbed a foldable sign behind the desk and placed it in front of where the wake of damage began, warding people off from tripping over the destroyed floorboards. 

It was slapping a bandaid on a gaping wound, but it would have to do for now.