Charles struggled with the decision. It was a vital one, and if he lost here, then everything was ruined. Certainly, his foe was a masterful combatant, a strategic mind. But he had an advantage!

With perfect control, Charles grabbed the wooden block near the base of the tower. Teetering precariously, the tower almost fell over before its movement slowed and then stopped. The Phorus chortled mockingly at the man across from him, the tower– not unlike a jenga tower– loomed menacingly as the man’s eyes darted from the tower to the three shot glasses over to the side of it.

“Hahahaha!” Skye erupted in acidic laughter, “Oh, Dachna, poor Dachna, maybe you shouldn’t have suggested three?”

The man in question, still sitting across from the sapphire and burgundy bird, shot a humorless laugh at her before he reached out.

Then he saw Charles smirk at the block he almost selected.

“Ah, piss and pox,” The man swore, before shifting his hand down. The smirk grew with a twinkle of amusement.

He went through another five iterations before he realized that he was going to have to take a chance with the first one. Niko, as he knew him, was a bird with a poker face and quite good at misdirection.

“What’s up with that, anyways,” he muttered inconsolably to himself as he barely touched the log in question with a finger. With the shortest and quickest burst of motion he could manage, he slid the log backwards and towards him.

The tower held strong.

“Hah! Eat that you damn bi-” the man froze as Charles went for a much lower block, lightly took it in his beak, and swept it out and to the side, not backwards. The tower wiggled, but did nothing more.

“I think he’s got you,” Ronald spoke thoughtfully with a hand to his chin.

“Sir Dachna is good,” said Crowe –the steward and a few of the hosts were watching the game with amusement and interest– “But Sir Niko is better.”

Charles, or Niko, found immense mirth in how the man was actually named crow, albeit with a letter added on. He wasn’t even sure how he knew that part, but there were much more important things afoot.

“Y’know, I never thought I’d have any appreciation at all for this game,” Mithel spoke while sipping her drink, “But I guess everything’s funnier when you’re playing penalty games.”

“Go on, Dachna, it’s your turn,” Skye’s smile only grew at his obvious disdain for her at that moment.

He licked his dry lips as he reached out to the tower, and now Charles openly let out a belting, clucking laugh as he grabbed a log. This time, he didn’t waver at all and instead pulled the log straight out.

And the tower came crashing down.

“Ohhhhh, too bad!” Came Skye’s words with a cackle, and Dachna only let out a long defeated sigh.

He looked up at the bird that met him at eye level in spite of sitting on the floor, and not a chair. For a few seconds Dachna just had a complex mix of emotions on his face before he settled for amusement. “Never thought I’d be playing drinking games with a bird.”

With a chirrup, Charles dipped down and took one of the drinks from the row questioningly. Dachna blinked, before laughing, “Hey, if you wanna take pity on me, that’s fine.” Then he shook his head, “Damn, that’s another first. Pitied by a bird.”

An eye roll from Charles set Mithel snorting. Skye reached forward and took the second shot in the row.

Dachna looked at her like she was a doppelganger.

“Shut up.” Her face brightened red, “I just don’t want to let Niko suffer alone, it has nothing to do with you.”

Mithel’s face progressed into a shade of purple as she did her best to clamp down on either laughing harder, or saying something. That valiant effort exploded when Charles only gave Skye a blithe look that said he didn’t believe her at all, but that it was fine to help Dachna out.

They still had a talk with the Guildmaster scheduled, after all, best not to be totally plastered.

As they pointedly ignored Mithel, the three downed the shot glasses as Crowe watched on with a flicker of concern for them.

Charles finished it. And then rapidly slapped the glass down while letting out a low hiss of surprise. “Wooooooow! That’s some plucky stuff, right there!”

“Oh, that’s bad,” Skye’s eyes watered, “Were you trying to get Niko drunk, or tryin’ to melt his innards.”

Dachna winced at the taste, and that wince didn’t go away as he, too, had watery eyes, “It’s… not that bad?” Lied Dachna blatantly, “I did ask for the most potent stuff he had. What is this stuff?”

Crowe cleared his throat and uncharacteristically shuffled awkwardly–the other staff members eyes bugged out of their heads at the motions–before gesturing to a nearly unmarked bottle with a coin and hammer emblazoned on the front in gold leaf. “Dwarven Fire Water, it’s only barely fit for human consumption. I… think Sir Niko shouldn’t drink anymore of that.”

‘What? I feel fine!’ Charles thought to himself, before experimentally standing up. He wobbled slightly, and with all the grace of a concussed mule, sat back down. ‘Alright, that’s just the other drinks! I’m less fine. But I can walk!’

The group laughed at the consternation on his face, but then they quickly pulled their drinks a little further from him. A smashed bird sounded fun, but they had no idea how much he could handle yet. Better not to overdo it on the first day.

The others spoke of, what were to them, commonplace things; such as the dwarves– Charles was very interested in dwarves, but couldn’t voice anything about that yet– and other local happenings. With a lilting, oscillating half-groan, half song, Charles flopped his head onto the tabletop as he felt the warmth of the drink really work its way into his body. It was relaxing in a way wholly different to the calming sigil in his nest, but also more there, up front and pervasive. He found he liked that a lot.

Skye giggled again, and didn’t care at all about the odd looks the others gave her this time. She gave Charles more great ear scritches, and he distantly noted that Tiku was looking incredibly jealous.

He stuck his tongue out at the kitten playfully, which resulted in said kitten huffing and rising, only for Mithel to remember the cat's presence with the motion and gratuitous pets followed. Mollified, the cat laid back down blissfully, previous quarrel forgotten.

‘Still a feisty little bastard, eh?’ Charles rumbled deep in his throat, only briefly interrupting the ongoing pets.

Perhaps some part of him should feel embarrassed that he was folding so fully into what almost felt like a spoiled almost-lap pet, but he told himself this was all part of the plan. Of course he’d ingratiate himself with them, it was a privilege to touch his glorious feathers, after all. A reward all its own, and totally had nothing to do with getting just the right spot~!

The doors opened to the room, and the group looked up to see who came in. Charles lifted his head begrudgingly to track the reason why the conversation around the table died, and then saw the most RPG looking guy he’d ever seen.

‘That has to be the Guildmaster. If he’s not, I’d eat my pecking tail feathers.’ The man was somewhere between lean and heavily built, a perfect frame with a gray-white beard and mustache that was so immaculately cared for that Charles briefly regretted the fact that he’d probably never have one. Which was fine, it’d look dumb on a bird, anyways! ‘Alright, maybe time to slow down on the booze, wow.’ Charles briefly remanded himself before refocusing on the man.

His hair was roughly combed backwards, but it was still unruly. Yet, it somehow made him look more professional when combined with the blue and gold tones that he wore on the rest of him. He wore what appeared to be official attire with a variety of medals that adorned the left chest area of his coat, along with other hints of finery that Charles almost thought shined with a strange light. ‘Is that… essence coming off of his shirt buttons?’ A dismayed and confused Charles studied the man further. Every part of him had a tight, controlled cling of essence to him, and with a start he figured out that he couldn’t tell his overall power. He didn’t even know why! The man was a brick wall to his senses, strong, sure, but how strong escaped him entirely.

Charles sat up a little bit straighter at that.

“At ease, everybody,” The Guildmaster stated just before Charles realized the Greenhorns were about to rise from their seats. “I shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”

The man paused as he closed in on the table, searching each person in turn. There was a weight to the gaze, though, and Charles instinctively turned on his own pattern in his eyes, if only to see what was going on there. With a flinch, he refocused his eyes to observe smaller pieces of essence. A dull ache pulsed in his head as he witnessed the Guildmaster somehow pushing small waves of essence outward towards the table. It was an incredible display of control that Charles knew he could barely see, for every detail revealed to him he could only just make out the undercurrent flow of essence. It was not unlike what Charles would describe as an aura.

He watched a ball of essence form, swirling clockwise slowly above the table as Charles struggled to track it. It was interesting to see how it flexed in the air, without actually moving the air. A second one joined it, rotating in the other direction but close enough to the first that Charles almost felt like he was looking at a pair of oil-slicks circling a pair of drains.

“Interesting, he’s very good at essence sight. Maybe control, too?” The Guildmaster noted in fascination and Charles’ attention snapped back to him. Only then did Charles notice the other sets of eyes in the room watching him as he’d tracked the flowing essence in the air. “That’s a great deal of potential. Hmm… That makes this easier and harder at the same time.”

Charles frowned at that, as did the other Greenhorns. “What does that mean?” Ronald asked carefully, “He’s been very well behaved, Sir…”

Orson pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, “Ah, sorry, misleading comments. I’ve been dealing with those kinds of nobility all day today. Worry not, this Phorus can stay with you all, or do as he wishes– I notice he isn’t tethered– I have no intent of harming him or taking him away, or allowing someone else too.”

There was a palpable air of relief as Ronald said, “Good, err, I mean, thank you, Sir.”

Orson waved that off with a mild air of disapproval, “Please, enough of this ‘Sir’ business, we’re adventurers.” The man had an air of authority, but mixed with a fair amount of warmth and laid back sense that Charles approved of. “Ah, are you named yet? Or, rather, selected a name yet?” He asked Charles directly, surprising him, but he only squawked at him and then turned his gaze meaningfully to Skye.

She patted his side and took his queue with a slight eyebrow raise of surprise, “His name is Niko. He’s very intelligent and understands us, like the last report, but we’ve also confirmed high sapience. He can’t exactly communicate with us, though.”

Seemingly unsurprised, the man nodded, “Good, that’ll be quite useful for both him and for you. It’s not unheard of, mind you, so don’t let yourself grow complacent with his growth. That goes for all of you,” he eyed the table, especially Dane, “Your tames' growth and your own are force multipliers, but even a thousand multiplied by nothing is still nothing. That’s less relevant with Niko, but he’ll still do well if he pushes himself, and you all help. Just like any team.”

There were a fair number of nods around the table at that, along with some bewilderment at how accepting he was about the fact that Charles was just with them. Orson walked over and pulled up a seat for himself. The Red Hawks landed around and on Charles and Dane, an even split, at the mans’ approach.

“In regards to communication… If he’s not directly tethered to anyone, how are you communicating? If you haven’t, I’d suggest at least one of you be his interpreter, as much as you can, anyways.” The man’s eyes twinkled joyfully.

Not noticing the look in the Guildmaster’s eye, Ronald was the first to speak, “We’re… mostly playing it by physical queues, he’s very good at them. If I had to say one person was his interpreter, though…” He looked at Skye meaningfully, who then looked to Charles in turn.

Charles pondered that for a few moments before he decided that it was probably only a boon. He would need someone that he could smokescreen his comprehension with, and it would get exceedingly tiring to continue on as though he were completely unable to communicate at some point. Charles turned to them and nodded, affirming his choice in Skye. Idly, he noted that he certainly wasn’t selecting Dachna, the man would probably intentionally cluck things up for him just for fun.

“Good, that works then. You’ll likely have to get him his own coat-badge later to show that he’s not a tame, but a highly sapient beast that’s a companion. Skye will need a visible pin that matches it, but that’s fairly flexible,” The man nodded to Skye and Niko together, “Eventually a connection can form, if you want it to, you’ll just have to keep an open mind about it.”

“You know how that process works?” Asked Skye, and Charles didn’t think he imagined the stunned tone it contained. He frowned, uncertain what he’d even really just heard.

“It’s… complicated,” Orson shook his head, “Ultimately, everyone that I’ve ever met that went this route always said not to force it, and not to look for information about it. Supposedly it’s poison for the connection. All you need to do is to work together, and someday, you will. Or you won’t. It doesn’t matter in the end, if you’re both comrades.”

‘That is… very flippant.’ Charles’ brow furrowed at that, ‘I get that he’s being intentionally vague, but… Really?’

Skye looked to have mixed feelings about that, as she glanced at Charles. He shrugged, not sure what all of that entailed, and decided that it wasn’t important if they just didn’t want it to happen. It sounded like a fully voluntary thing, so Skye didn’t seem worried if Charles wasn’t up for any of that. Dane, though, both looked enlightened and happy to hear about it. Ronald, Reese, Dachna, and Eustace all looked varying degrees of confused and outright lost. Mithel frowned like she’d just heard someone try to sell her a palm reading for a fortune.

“Anyways, there are some things that I need to talk with you all about.” He said and a moment later the attendants all vacated the room, save for Crowe who sat a fair distance behind and to the right of the guildmaster. Charles perked up at the subtle shift in the way he held himself, and watched as he folded his hands together and leaned forward slightly.

“You’re all going to need to stay on lockdown here for the next few days.” He said it slowly, and then watched the responses from the group. Dane was unsurprised, either expecting the order or having been briefed earlier. The responses from the others differed greatly.

Mithel was the one to speak first, “Does this have anything to do with the fact that we were followed here?”

Orson frowned, “Who tol–'' he paused, “Ah, Oum. Right, I guess he might have told you. Did he tell you any specifics?”

Mithel’s own glower greeted him, “Not really.”

Unbothered, he gave a nod and said, “Good. Well, it seems that someone was going to try to assassinate Eustace outside of the city. And, probably the rest of you at the same time. When that failed because of my team's intervention, they likely intended to track you through the city and take care of you when they had more information. Luckily, as you already know, Oum prevented any misfortune befalling your group on your way here.”

That took a few seconds to really sink in before Skye bristled, “What the fuck?”

“I know we didn’t hide on our way out of the city or anything,” Ronald spoke with a deceptively even tone, “But that doesn’t explain why they were looking for us specifically?”

Orson maintained a neutral face, “Because someone in the guild told them about your particular mission.”

It would be impossible to miss how the majority of the team were visibly agitated at that, especially Reese, whose expression was particularly stormy as she ‘asked’, “It would seem that some explaining is in order? Was this in regards to the Oath Sworn, or the Phorus?”

“The Oath Sworn, at least as far as my network is informing me. There are some leaks in the guild. Though, I wouldn’t expect this kind of information to be stymied for long, it should have been a few days longer for most details to be allowed to various information brokers. Whoever is connected to the matter of the corrupted oaths likely has at least a few of my guild employees in their back pocket. I expected that much. It was surprising that they went after you, initially, but we’ve discovered more of the reason why now.” He reached for a shot glass as Crowe set it down beside him. Charles had barely even noticed when the man had moved to the bar once more to make it.

“We believe now that the only people who know the full state of everything that happened are people in this room as well as a few of my truly trusted subordinates. So, I would like to start by once more stating that no information is to be said outside of this room,” He turned a level gaze upon the rest of the table, “As far as anyone out there knows for sure, only a single Oath Sworn got out of this whole thing alive. The guards and other people who you spoke with agree that no one new came with you, only that Phorus did.” Charles noted that he said that in a way that suggested that hadn’t been explicitly true, but more in the ‘we paid them off’ kind of way than the ‘I had them killed’ kind of way.

He turned to Eustace specifically then, “This is not forever. It won’t even be for long, but I ask that you go to ground here for the time being.”

Eustace's blase expression and response was, “It doesn’t matter anyways, so sure. I can stay here.”

Orson frowned at that, but quickly schooled his expression to something more neutral as he spoke more, “Anyways, as far as anyone should be concerned, you found no one out there. I’m sure sometime soon more information will be shaken loose, but right now the interested parties think only a single person is definitively tying them to all of this, so they want them dead.”

“So what is this, then?” Skye frowned, but there was no venom in her voice this time, “Are we supposed to just sit back? Who’s even responsible?”

“I know you have a right to know,” he said, “But I’m going to deny you that information for now. I don’t want anyone tipped off, and while I’d like to say that you all can be trusted to not reveal information, even unintentionally, I can’t.”

The mood at the table sank lower at that. “Great, so what can we do, then?” Dachna ground out, bristling, “On Samut’s name, please don’t say anything about the greater good or I’ll…” he trailed off, rage and sense muddled as he searched for a word.

“Go fucking ballistic?” Mithel offered helpfully with a smile that was not a smile.

“Milder than that, but close!” Dachna nodded emphatically.

“Well, you can lie low for a few days and prepare for the counter attack.” An amused Orson held up a hand towards Skye when she glowered at him, “And train yourselves up. You held up your end of the deal, so I’m planning on having you undertake the Champion’s Pilgrimage. Frankly, though, I need to see where you all actually sit in terms of skills and knowledge. So, even after all of this blows over, you will be here learning, until such a time I see that you can be put on the pilgrimage without being killed by the first beast you didn’t know to look out for in the Elderwood’s depths.”

That stole the wind out of Skye’s sails in no time flat, but Charles only glared at the man. Orson met Charles’ glare with a hint of confusion; he was, after all, not expecting the most standoffish response to be from the Phorus.

Charles turned his attention to his siblings and Dane, ignoring the varying degrees of wary, excited, or vaguely put out that the rest of the team displayed. “Tell Dane to tell this guy the following.”

Dane cleared his throat, “Uh… right. So, my companions are telling me that their big brother has a prior obligation to bring the kitten–” A gentle chide from Gabby set him to correcting his word a moment later, “–err, that is, the saber tooth cat, back to the forest near the entrance where he can be given over to his sister or else there’s going to b–'' He went wide eyed then and turned his head wholly to Gabby, then back to Charles. “What in all the Gods’ names are you talking about?... Are you serious?”

Talon let out a piercing cry that set the table to wincing at the volume, before Dane placatingly nodded and gesticulated for her to calm down.

“What is it?” Orson asked, now very much more interested, “Some issue?”

“Err, yeah… Apparently Niko negotiated what sounds like a halt to… To some kind of war preparations from a bunch of saber toothed cats in the mountains? That the one he spoke to in particular is a child of some importance?”

Orson visibly recoiled at that and quickly settled an alarmed gaze on the cat on Mithel’s lap. Mithel who for her part just seemed confused, just said, “Wait, what? Like, for real? For little ol’ snuggle buddy here?”

“Did he say how long he was given to complete this task?” Orson grimaced, and Charles was happy to see that even Crowe had gone a shade paler at the proclamation.

“Ah, a few days? Is this… a serious thing?” Dane blinked, “I wasn’t aware of any monster tribes out here?”

“There aren’t any officially recognized ones, but there are a few that don’t interact with the Kingdom unless absolutely necessary,” Orson explained, “It just so happens that ‘absolutely necessary’ generally means war.” He looked at Charles with what looked like a new light, and he wasn’t sure he liked that. “So, you can communicate with other creatures freely? That’s much more useful.”

“You’re being creepy.” Dane said outright, and then spluttered when the table turned to him in shock, “That’s from them! I don’t think–I mean.” He smartly clammed up and just waited for the conversation to turn away from him again.

Orson, unbothered, simply said, “Then… as much as I’d like to keep you all here in the safehouse, I guess one more trip will be necessary. We’ll do that now, then.” He turned to Crowe, “Ask after Oum and his crew again, contact Splint too, just in case.”

“Usual fee, Sir?”

“Double, we’re paying for silence and discretion this time.” He then eyed Charles, “As much as we are able, anyways.”

Charles twittered charmingly before he reached over and picked Tiku up by the scruff of his neck. He eyed the collar there too, magical but not binding. It had a nice little silver-studded metal plate with the letters ‘O.M.’ stamped on it, too.

Charles looked up from said collar with judgment clear on his face, where the Guildmaster only looked away innocently.

“You really are a cat person, huh?” Dane asked aloud, already glaring at the birds who joined Charles in little peals of laughter as the Guildmaster shook his head.

“Go on then and come back quickly. Dane, Eustace, remain here, if you will. I have some things I need to discuss with you two in particular.” He gestured to the door, “I would thank you all to go together and try not to wander too far. That said, don’t worry about scrambling the back alleys this time, I highly doubt who I suspect is responsible will miss your coming and going a second time.”

“Sorry,” Ronald looked contrite, “I appreciate the effort you’re putting into this for us.”

Orson paused and then smiled a little, “It’s no bother. Besides, Niko just saved me a great deal of effort that I was not prepared to deal with this time of year.”

Charles found that particular statement to be very interesting, but could only sigh. They had places to be and things to get done! And he wasn’t nearly drunk enough now!

Even if he was still having problems walking in a straight line!