The week and a half following Katya and Val’s aborted gilt council hearing was a whirlwind.

Val handed over the items he’d brought back from the labyrinth, including the hide and wicked horns of the dire bull, to Locke, a smooth-talking, dealer in the merchant’s district that Katya had recommended. Since her membership to Terminus had not been rescinded, it meant that the guild would be taking a fifteen percent cut of any earnings, but Katya assured him that the number would be offset by the higher prices they’d likely get for their use of a council sanctioned vendor.

So far, she’d been right. Money had been trickling in over the days as each of the items was sold off to various craftsmen, artisans and resellers. They’d yet to find a buyer for the horns, but Locke assured them both that the item was rare enough to fetch a significant price from the right buyer.

Which was lucky for the two of them. Katya had been studiously avoiding spending too much time in the Terminus base, so the two had set up camp in a couple of rooms in one of the nicer inns on the edge of the royal district, from which she dragged Val to and from the various guildhalls around the city. Each visit was, on paper at least, a social event of some sort, but that small subterfuge, and the relative prestige of visiting the major guilds, meant they were forced to purchase suitably upmarket attire to keep up the charade.

It was technically allowed, though considered extremely poor form, to poach members from another guild, but each night, as the crystal lamps grew dim and the tables were cleared, some meister or ward would find an excuse to pull Katya, either with or without Val in tow, into a dark corner and pitch her on the benefits of joining their organisation. They would, in honeyed tones, suggest she had outgrown Terminus, or that some clerical error was the only reason they had not voraciously attempted to draft her out of the academy.

Val sleepwalked through the meals and soirees. He had initially thought to use these suddenly opened inroads with the major guilds to seek useful information, but he had so far devised no plan, nor had any inkling, as to how he could mount another expedition to the thousandth floor with any greater success than the first. He barely tasted the rich food that even the middle-tier guilds served in their attempts to butter Katya up, and he refused the plentiful wines and liquors he was offered, for fear that if he started drinking at this point, he might never stop.

On the eighth night since their return, he sat alone at a table in the Forgelight hall, watching as Katya coyly received the advances of some guild-ward he had not been introduced to. To Val, she seemed a little off, though her outward behaviour was perfectly polite, she rarely, if ever, made eye contact with him in these moments. Watching her listen as the ward made his case, he wondered if he was imagining things. After all, he really hadn't known her that long.

Alone at his table, he idly tapped the crystal on his neck and brought up his stat sheet. His minor part in the fight with the bull had pushed him up just short of level ten, though again the gains in his actual stats of STR, DEX, et al, had been almost negligible. His eyes were drawn again to the single item in his ‘Skills’ list.

He stared at the entry, but the two words offered no more information than they had the other twenty times he’d looked. He was reasonably sure the language was Latin, but that was only a guess, though he figured it wasn’t impossible that one of the myriad summonees who had been brought here over the centuries might have been an ancient Roman, or a Catholic school headmistress. Despite repeated attempts, he had been unable to recreate the golden light that burst from his palm and temporarily restored Katya during the bull fight, so, if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t even sure that it was related to the skill.

Either way, Katya had not broached the topic with him, and he had more pressing things to worry about, so there had yet been no genuine attempt to solve the mystery of ‘Fastus Patri’.

“Well,” came a light, feminine voice, “Hello, daddy.”

Val nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion. He had become used to being viewed as little more than a pack mule for Katya, spoken to sparsely but politely. He turned to find a woman standing almost right behind him.

She was tall, tall enough that he had to adjust himself in his seat to look up at her, and well built, lean and sporty looking. Her skin was deeply tanned, and her shiny black hair was pulled back in three thick braids, hanging loose past her shoulders. She wore a long silver tunic dress, cinched at the waist with an intricately woven black leather belt and, Val noted, despite the elegant evening wear, she carried herself with an athlete's physical confidence.

“Val,” he corrected her.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, “Do you remember me?”

Val examined her face. She was young, maybe just past twenty, and there was something about her that felt familiar. 

Recognition hit him like a bolt from the blue. The day of the gacha festival. The last time he had seen this girl was sitting across the holding room in the Third Century guildhall, her eyes as hollow and haunted as all the other recent transplants who had been pulled into this world. It seemed that the almost year that had passed, and joining a major guild like Forgelight, had been kind to her. She had clearly settled into the life of an adventurer.

“From the festival, right?” he asked, “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, “It’s Jaida.”

Jaida leaned in close, her face only inches from his, and he almost pulled back before realising she was looking past him. 

“Fastus Patri?” she read aloud.

He turned, following her eye-line, and realised she was reading his stat sheet. His hand was already rising to his neck to close the floating window, but something in the way she meticulously pronounced the words caught Val’s attention.

“Yeah, I think it might be Latin?” he said, fishing.

She nodded.

“A father’s pride,” she offered, matter-of-fact, “Well, just father’s pride, if we’re being literal.”

Val threw her a look that was equal parts impressed and bemused.

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled, “My granddad made me take Latin in high school, said I wouldn’t be able to be a lawyer unless I knew the lingua franca. So, what does it do?”

“I’m not sure,” Val responded honestly, and tapped his crystal, vanishing the window.

“And the mystery of the daddy continues,” Jaida said, leaning back, “You were a hot topic of conversation around the guild for a little while there.”

Jaida’s eyes moved toward Katya, still in conversation.

“And now here you are, travelling with the Ten Thousand Blades reborn.”

“I imagine that’s set tongues wagging again,” Val responded.

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone else recognised you,” Jaida chuckled, “Apparently you looked more like a dark knight or a paladin than a daddy, whatever they armour themselves like.”

Jaida sat down in the seat next to him, and filled the empty goblet in front of her with wine from the untouched pitcher on his table. As Val turned in his chair to face her, he saw Katya briefly glance over at the two of them, but her expression was unreadable.

“Any idea if she’s thinking of jumping ship?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Val answered, “She’s not exactly an open book.”

Jaida made a short sound of agreement and sipped her wine.

“You know,” Jaida said, “The meister, Yora, is considered to be something of a scholar when it comes to obscure classes and skills. If there’s anyone who can tell you what your Fastus Patri does, it’s probably him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I mean, no promises,” she added, “I think he was just as confused as anyone else by the whole daddy thing, but skills are a different story, apparently, and if Fastus Patri has ever been seen on any other class, he’ll know about it.”

“Huh,” Val responded, thoughtfully.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to meet with you, if she ends up joining the guild.”

Before Val could respond, he was interrupted by the sound of Katya clearing her throat loudly. He turned to find her suddenly standing across the table from him and Jaida, an unimpressed look on her face.

“Oh, hey,” Val said, “What’s going on?”

“I’m done,” she responded, “Are you ready to go?”

Val wasn’t really taken aback by the suddenness of Katya’s exit-readiness, so far all the nights had ended in a similar way. 

“Sure,” he replied, “Just give me a second.”

“I’ll meet you outside,” Katya near-interrupted, then, with a short glance at Jaida, turned and walked toward the exit. The small crowd milling around the hall split to make way for her.

After a moment, Val stood.

“Well,” he declared, “Good to see you again.”

Jaida nodded.

Val walked across the room, gently passing between members of the guild engaged in none-too-quiet discussion of whether they’d done enough to secure Katya as a new recruit, and slipped out the door unnoticed.

Back at the table, Jaida watched him leave.

From across the room, the ward who had been chatting to Katya caught her eye and raised an enquiring eyebrow. In response, Jaida raised her shoulders in a small shrug.