“Franky!” Turnock yells in surprise.

Franky’s eyes go wide as the woman behind Turnock finishes her motion, sets one booted foot on the table, then leaps over her compatriots and slams the haft over her spear down on the dwarf’s head.

Turnock slumps, unconscious, to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“Thanks,” she tells Franky, “for making that easy.”

The woman returns to her seat.

____________________________

Roused from catatonia by good friends and better spirits, the dwarf sits at a table, nursing his head and a bottle of absinthe.

“Could you guys have shown up a little bit later?” Turnock asks, gesturing behind himself. “I was just about to get some sexy booty.”

Brock follows the thumb. He sees the table of women and holds his head. “Turnock, that’s the Bladed Thorns. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Franky frowns. “Who are the Bladed Thorns?” he asks.

“Bah,” says the dwarf, “she didn’t hurt Matilda II.”

Franky shakes his head and chuckles at the dwarf. His insouciant attitude with drinking is the same as Aodean’s.

“Bladed Thorns,” Brock gestures at the group, “is an all-female mercenary group led by an Amazon named Trinity.”

“So…” Turnock begins.

“Ughhh,” Brock rubs his temples, “Somehow, I wonder how you even lived this long.”

“I don’t understand.” Franky states. ”What’s it got to do with them being all-female, or their leader being an Amazon?”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

The [Hero] shakes his head. He’s spent the last few years training with the elves, being taught by experts in combat. What they were not experts in was anything outside of their forest. The elves are an insular people and most of Franky’s teachers had never left their home.

The big man then looks at Turnock, who takes another swig and shrugs. “They’re a bunch of strong, sexy women who live on an island, ignorant of the comfort of strong, sexy men.”

Brock slumps into the chair, annoyed at the two before him.

“Amazons are all incredibly strong. Every single one of them has several powerful bloodline abilities. A level ten [Amazon Warrior] is the equivalent of a level eighty [Knight]. I’ve even heard that their elders are almost as strong as named beings.”

“So why are they women?” Franky asks.

“I was getting to that,” Brock clears his throat,” One of their bloodlines makes it so that the Amazons are only capable of birthing girls. They are, in most instances, considered to be their own species, though they still need a guy to get pregnant.”

“And I can be that guy,” Turnock adds as he glances at the Amazon, who meets his eyes. He winks at her. She frowns and taps her spear.

Brock groans. “Please, don’t. She’ll kill you, or she will take you back to her island and use you for reproduction before killing you.”

Turnock takes a large gulp of his drink. “The second option doesn't sound so bad.”

Franky snorts while Brock sighs.

“I’m here.”

Sarena slides into one of the empty seats next to Franky.

Turnock freezes in the midst of taking another swig.

“Lass, you’ve grown!” he exclaims, eyes on her chest.

“And you haven’t,” she deadpans.

Turnock winks. “So, where’s the crazy one? I need to see how she measures up to you.”

Sarena fixes Turnock with an ice-cold glare. The Dwarf wiggles his eyebrows.

She sighs and shakes her head.

“Jess is looking up information on the whereabouts of Quasi Eludo.”

“What!?” Franky exclaims. “I told her not to waste her time. If Aodean can’t find Quasi, then I doubt she could do any better.”

Sarena shrugs. “She is convinced she has a better chance.”

Brock crosses his arms and leans into his chair. “Who’s this Quasi fellow? I feel like you’ve mentioned him before.”

Franky chuckles. “Quasi is-”

The doors to the guild slam open, interrupting everyone with a loud bang. All eyes turn to a masked man standing silhouetted in the doorway, a tied and squirming body slung over his shoulder.

The masked face turns as the man slowly surveys the room. His gaze lingers for a moment on Franky’s table, then moves on.

Like a [King] contemplating his subjects, he stands there, regal and foreboding, his presence demanding respect and absolute obedi-

“BONE! Stop blocking the entrance! People need to get inside,” a feminine voice breaks his internal monologue.

The masked man clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Fine, fine,” he says and walks towards the reception desk, spotting an open spot, and allows a masked woman to enter.

When he arrives, he unceremoniously plops the wiggling body on the counter, which releases a muffled groan.

“Teams Merry Marrows and Fire Spitters have completed the mission. The Necromancer is captured,” he thumps the groaning body, ”and his undead army is destroyed.”

The [Receptionist] blinks. She looks down at the tied-up man on her desk, and then at the masked [Gentleman].

“That, uh…”

“Oh, right. Hang on!” His hand rummages around within his robe. “Now where did I- Here it is!” He pulls out a Mithril card.

“Alright, here you go,” he hands her the card.

The [Receptionist] slowly takes it. As she does, the card reveals his information. She blinks, surprised.

“O-one moment.”

She returns the card and leans under the counter. She grabs a booklet. She opens it, and finds the mission. She reads it and furrows her brow.

“The mission did not involve taking the [Necromancer] alive.”

“Oh, I know. I just want my pal here,” he pokes the squirming body, “to get himself a card. Merry Marrows is too small a team, and there’s nothing quite like a meatshield to pad out the group.”

The [Receptionist] looks at the squirming man, then Bone, and furrows her eyebrows. “I… If it would not be too much trouble, would you please take a seat while I get… someone else?”

“Sure! Can I leave my buddy here on the counter?” he taps the helpless man.

“Um… Sure?”

“Perfect!” he exclaims and turns around just as the Fire Spitters show up alongside Jessica, “Shina, the [Receptionist] is going to grab some help. Mind waiting at the counter for a bit and explaining the situation for me?”

Shina frowns but slowly nods.

“Great.” He looks at Jessica. ”As for you,” he points at the table with Amazons, “go talk to them about our next mission. Tell them we leave today. I’m gonna go chat with some people.”

Jessica raises an eyebrow at him, but the [Hero] is already walking away.

___________________________________________________________________

The group of four watch the masked man walk to their table. Without fanfare or by your leave, he plops his butt down on the final empty chair. He raises his legs and then places them on the table. With a little push, he lets his chair lean back.

“So, name’s Bone, future world-destroyer extraordinaire and the greatest [Necromancer] to ever exist… probably. I’m actually not one-hundred percent sure on the [Necromancer] bit. But so far I’m the best one I’ve met.”

The masked man tips his hat. “Anyways, a pleasure to meet you all.”

The four at the table look between each other.

“Umm,” Franky begins, unsure what to even say. He’s never been in a situation where a random stranger comes up to them and just says hello so forcefully.

“Is there something we can do for you?” Brock asks cordially.

“Absolutely!” Bone answers.

Sarena blinks, her expression dipping to a frown. “Who are you?” she asks.

“Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.”

“We can fucking see that,” Turnock comments.

The masked man drops his legs off the table and leans in, “Of course you can, I’m not questioning your perception stat, I’m merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is,” he answers with an expected tilt towards Franky.

Franky frowns at the man’s words. Something seems… familiar.

“Right, um, sir, is there something we can do for you? Did you need something?” Franky asks.

The masked man seems to slump. For some odd reason, Franky feels like he somehow disappointed the masked man.

“Yes, I did, but now my disappointment is so very great. Truly, young man, my soul weeps for your poor intuition.”

The four look at the masked man in continued confusion.

“Why did you choose our table out of all the others?” Brock asks, attempting to change the conversation.

The masked man tilts his head, “Because you are the most interesting of the bunch.”

“Interesting?” Franky asks.

The man shrugs. “What other table has a Dwarf, Elf, Human, and a summoned [Hero] sitting together?”

The four straighten as they look around, expecting people to have heard. Though it is common knowledge that another [Hero] is in the city, few actually know what he looks like, hence why they can sit in public.

“Bah!” The masked man waves his hand. “I have the [Focussed Voice] skill. As long as I use it, nobody will understand what comes out of my mouth except for you four.”

Turnock grumbles as he tilts his bottle, drinking the last few drops left inside. He frowns as he points the empty bottle at the masked man. “Well, like this bottle, I think you’ve been here long enough. I think you might want to leave.”

The masked man looks at the bottle. Then, everyone stiffens as they sense a release of mana. The masked man leans to the side, and reaches down. His hand seems to phase through the wood floor before pulling a bottle of green liquid out. The mana disperses and the masked man places the bottle on the table before pushing it towards the now very curious dwarf.

Turnock frowns, but leans in and accepts the bottle. He uncorks it, sniffs the weirdly green alcoholic liquid, then takes a respectable chug. He blinks, considering the taste for a moment before coming to a decision.

“Alright, you can stay.”

Franky and Brock burst out laughing, even Sarena has her lips tilting slightly upward.

When Franky finally stops chuckling, he can’t help but be put at ease. For some odd reason, he feels like the masked man can be trusted. Actually, this may be a perfect opportunity.

“Bone, If you don’t mind me asking, are you heavily involved with a guild?”

“No, not really.”

Franky nods. “Well, In the next few weeks, I’m planning on starting up a brand new guild.”

“What!” Brocks exclaims in shock while Turnock starts coughing as the smooth liquid finds its way into his lungs.

Sarena stays quiet, having already had this conversation with Franky.

“You can’t be serious. A guild? Really? Have you any idea how much it will cost just to even start it up? Let alone run it?”

Franky makes a fist and nods. “I do, and Aodean will be financing everything. I just need to get everything organized and look for members,” he says, looking at Bone expectantly.

The masked man crosses his arms. “Really now, you’re asking me to join a guild that I know nothing about after only speaking with me for the first time today. Do you even have a name for this hypothetical guild?”

Franky smiles while rubbing the side of his neck. He even blushes slightly. “Um, the guild will be called the Adventurer’s Guild and we wi-”

Bang! The table shudders as a large bag crashes loudly on it.

“TAKE MY MONEY!” the masked man bellows, startling Franky and everyone else in the guild.

“What?” Franky exclaims in confusion as hundreds of high-quality crystals leak from the overfilled bag. They glint on the table, catching everyone’s eyes.

“I’m in!” the masked man shouts, having pulled out a fortune from the floor in less than a second. “Here’s your start up money.”

“But, you can’t just-” Franky stops talking as the masked man stands up and starts walking towards the counter in silence. All eyes are on him now as he walks up to the counter, picks up the still tied up body, slings the [Necromancer] on his shoulder, grabs the [Necromancer’s] new card, and walks towards the exit while waving at his masked partner.

All at once, the entirety of the Bladed Thorns stand and begin marching in an organized file directly behind Trinity and Jessica as they exit the building after Bone.

Silence reigns once they all leave, or it would have if not for the gulping sound of a certain dwarf [Bard].

Turnock burps. “Fuck me mum, this shite is strong,” he whispers, staring at the absurd pile of crystals directly in front of him. “I’m already seeing things.”