"I bet you twenty gold he'll come back empty-handed," Pablo muttered under his breath, arms crossed, eyes following Sébastien as he was getting ready the next day.

Martus leaned back with a lazy grin. "Nah. I say he comes back with a black eye and empty hands. Ten gold on bruises. Fifteen says he still claims it was worth it."

Pablo snorted. "Optimistic of you to think he'll admit defeat."

Martus shrugged. "Oh, he won't, no question. But he'll give some dramatic speech about how it wasn't a waste. You know how he is."

Xander shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And yet you're all still here following him."

"Yeah," Pablo said, "that's the damn problem."

Sébastien ignored their teasing as he prepared himself, his mind focused on the task at hand. He had dealt with far worse in his career, and he knew that talking to Franz Adelhart, one of the most respected and feared figures in the healing community, would be no easy task. But he had to try, else he would regret it.

As he left the basecamp, Pablo and Martus exchanged glances, shaking their heads in unspoken amusement. They didn't believe for a second that Sébastien would be successful, but there was something about the determination in his eyes that made them wonder. Maybe, just maybe, he would surprise them.

Xander leaned back, smirking. "You two really are underestimating him. He's stubborn enough to charm a dragon if he thinks it'll join the team."

Pablo shook his head. "I don't know, man. Franz Adelhart isn't an easy guy. I've worked with him a few times before. Families like theirs don't usually join just any team. They don't stick to a fixed group either—mostly stay behind the scenes and step in only when things get really messy."

Xander chuckled. "That's exactly why he's going—he likes the impossible ones."

***

Sébastien returned from the Adelhart estate with his head low. As everyone had expected, Franz Adelhart had refused his request. The conversation had been brief, cold, and to the point. Franz had made it clear that he would never allow his daughter, Elaine, to join some random adventurer team filled with men way older than her.

He still remembered clearly how Franz Adelhart sat at a massive desk, looking every bit the powerful patriarch his family was known for. His sharp features and hard eyes were a clear warning that this wouldn't be a friendly meeting. When Sébastien had made his request, Franz's face had hardened, his expression turning from neutral to something colder—something more calculating. The air in the room seemed to tighten, as if the very walls had absorbed the tension that suddenly filled the space.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," Franz's voice cut through the room, thick with authority. "You can sit, but I'll get straight to the point. Why should I let her leave the family and join a group of adventurers like yours?"

Sébastien took a deep breath, trying not to show the tension in his body. "Elaine has the skills we need. I've seen her work. She's capable, dedicated, and above all, she has the drive to make a difference—I saw it in her eyes. She could help us do more than just heal. We need someone like her on our team."

Franz's lips twitched into a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Do you think I don't know what my daughter is capable of? She doesn't need your team. She has a place with us. The Adelhart name is respected across the continent. Why would she risk all of that for... whatever it is you're offering?"

Sébastien opened his mouth to respond, but Franz raised a hand, silencing him.

"Let me make this clear," Franz continued, his tone unwavering. "Elaine is not some asset for your cause. She is my daughter, and I will decide what's best for her. She doesn't belong in your world. Not now, not ever. I'm done here. You should go"

***

"Well?"

Pablo was the first person Sébastien saw when he returned. He stood at the entrance, arms crossed, as if he'd been waiting the whole time. His voice carried a thread of skepticism.

"What happened?"

Sébastien didn't miss a beat.

"Well, he didn't throw me out a window, so I'd say it went better than expected."

Pablo raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"

Martus perked up from where he was lounging. "No black eye?"

"No black eye," Sébastien confirmed.

"Damn," Martus muttered, digging into his pocket. "There goes my gold."

Pablo smirked and held out his hand. "Told you. Twenty gold. Empty hands, zero progress."

Martus slapped the coins into Pablo's palm with a groan. "Yeah, yeah. But I'm still holding out for the last part."

Sébastien glanced between them. "What last part?"

Martus grinned. "Fifteen gold says you still claim it was worth it."

There was a beat of silence. Then Sébastien shrugged. "...It was."

Pablo laughed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

Martus grinned wider and looked at Pablo. "Payback round two?"

Pablo groaned, fishing coins from his pocket. "Fine. But next time, I'm betting he comes back with a restraining order."

"Hold on, hold on. That's not right. You're short ten gold, Pablo."

Pablo paused mid-laugh, looking at Martus with a frown. "What are you talking about? I paid you what you bet."

Martus shook his head, a sly grin on his face. "Nah, you owe me ten more for the bruises."

Pablo shot him a glare, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Really? Ten for bruises that didn't happen?"

"His ego is bruised. That should count," Martus argued.

As the two bickered over coin and technicalities, Xander approached quietly, his footsteps barely a whisper on the stone floor. He stood beside Sébastien, gaze steady, voice low enough not to draw attention.

"You okay?"

Sébastien let out a long, tired breath. "I knew it wouldn't be easy. But damn. That door was sealed before I even knocked."

Xander nodded slightly. "Well, we all expected that much. Still thinking about trying again?"

Sébastien's lips curving into a half-smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. "When have I ever not?"