Some cons take longer than others. But at the heart, they're all the same. Convince someone of something, convince enough people of something, to get what you want.

In the case of Curral Piern, what he wanted was simple: someone else to pay for his drinks.

It started small. He sat in the corner of the adventurer's guild, and whenever anyone asked who he was, he introduced himself as 'Curral Piern, battlemage'. He'd trade a tall tale from his supposed exploits as a veteran battlemage for a drink, and both parties would be satisfied with the arrangement.

He didn't know how his reputation got quite so out of hand, he only told small stories, careful never to say anything that could be disproven. But the way he told them made others fill in the gaps with things far more fantastical than he could have imagined.

By the time the second receptionist quit and the third came along, no one questioned his presence. He didn't need to explain himself any more, a new member whispered a question to an older, and received the quiet response, "Oh, that's Curral Piern. The battlemage." "Buy him a drink, and you may get a story."

The third guildmaster stopped by to introduce himself to all those present, chatting and shaking hands with everyone. Curral only grunted in greeting, shrugged, and said 'maybe you'll last longer than the last one.'

His reputation only grew. From hero to master to legend. Eventually there were whispers, questioning why he hadn't applied to be guildmaster himself. To indirect queries, hesitantly slipped in when they thought he might answer, he only laughed and shook his head. "Management isn't for me."

And so he sat, and he grumbled, and ranted about politics and kids these days, and sometimes, if you were very lucky, he might still share a story about his long and illustrious life.

But, for the most part, he sat in the corner, drank his drinks, and watched the world go by. As content as any retired legendary battlemage could be.