Master Alaric's brow furrowed deeper as he absorbed the contents of the letter. He shifted in his seat, the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. Oakhaven's plight was real, yet the absence of Baron Ashworth and his knight squad made sending any garrison troops an imprudent move. If he sent soldiers from Stoneford to aid Torsten, what would become of the town if bandits or worse targeted it during their absence?
Alaric sighed, letting the letter rest on the table as he rubbed his temples. He could sense the desperation in Torsten's voice and see it etched on Geoffrey's face beside him. The stakes had never been higher, yet he felt caught in a bind, unable to fully commit to a course of action that might lead to ruin.
"I understand your concerns," Alaric finally said, lifting his gaze to meet Torsten's anxious eyes. "But I cannot spare men without compromising our own defenses." He hesitated before continuing, "I am afraid I must decline your request for immediate aid."
Torsten's shoulders sagged under the weight of Alaric's words, disappointment flickering across his features like candlelight in a draft. The trader swallowed hard, fighting against despair that threatened to engulf him.
"However," Alaric added cautiously, "there is news of a new mercenary squad that arrived from Port Haethwy. They are said to be senior students from Lumina Academy seeking experience in the field." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "They may not be able to offer full support, but they possess skills beyond those typically found among common mercenaries."
Torsten looked at Geoffrey, who raised an eyebrow at this unexpected glimmer of hope.
"They might help with scouting or provide extra hands if things escalate," Alaric continued. "Seek them out at the Mercenary Guild branch here in Stoneford. They could prove invaluable."
Though this was hardly what Torsten had hoped for when embarking on his journey, he clung to Alaric's words like driftwood in a stormy sea. The prospect of mercenaries—even inexperienced ones—offered a faint spark amid his despair.
"Thank you for your time and consideration," Torsten replied stiffly, forcing himself to maintain composure despite disappointment lacing every word.
Geoffrey placed a reassuring hand on Torsten's shoulder as they stood to leave. His grip felt solid and steady amidst uncertainty—a reminder that they were not alone in this fight.
"We'll head straight there," Geoffrey assured him quietly as they turned toward the exit.
The air outside felt warmer than before; each breath mingled with the fragrant summer scents wafting through bustling streets filled with townsfolk oblivious to Oakhaven's troubles. With every step toward the Mercenary Guild, Torsten wrestled with frustration and fear for his village. He had come seeking allies; instead, he found himself settling for untested novices while danger loomed just beyond their doorstep.
As they approached the guild's sturdy wooden doors adorned with iron fittings glinting ominously in daylight, Torsten glanced back at Geoffrey and managed a weak smile—the first since stepping into Alaric's presence.
"Let's hope these students are worth their reputation," he murmured as they pushed through the entrance.
Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with conversation and camaraderie among various mercenaries discussing contracts and battles won or lost. But even here—amid laughter and bravado—Torsten sensed an undercurrent of tension threading through their interactions; it mirrored his own unease about what awaited them in Oakhaven.
Torsten and Geoffrey stepped into the bustling Mercenary Guild, the warm air filled with chatter and the scent of spiced meats from a nearby stall. The large room pulsed with energy, mercenaries exchanging stories of their exploits and discussing potential contracts.
Geoffrey led Torsten toward the counter at the front, where a receptionist sat with an inviting smile. Her eyes lit up when she recognized Geoffrey, who frequented the guild for rare herbs and medicinal ingredients.
"Master Wincott!" she exclaimed, setting down a quill. "Back again so soon? I hope you've brought more interesting requests!"
"Always," Geoffrey replied, his demeanor brightening at her enthusiasm. "But today we need something more urgent."
Torsten watched as Geoffrey leaned closer to the counter, his voice low yet firm.
"We need to speak with your vice chief. Could you escort us to the private meeting room and notify him on my behalf?"
The receptionist's smile faded slightly, replaced by concern as she studied Torsten's weary face.
"Of course. I'll let him know you're here," she assured them before standing and walking toward a door marked "Private Meeting Room."
Geoffrey turned to Torsten, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry; they'll listen to us," he said softly, though Torsten felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down harder than ever.
As the receptionist disappeared through the door, Torsten inhaled deeply, allowing himself a moment of hope. They had come all this way seeking aid; perhaps this would be their turning point.
The private meeting room held a thick atmosphere, dimly lit by a single oil lamp. Torsten fidgeted with the edges of his cloak while Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, studying the walls adorned with mercenary trophies and accolades. Each tick of the wall clock echoed the urgency in Torsten's heart. He shifted his weight, impatience clawing at him as minutes dragged on.
The door creaked open, and the vice chief stepped inside. He was a sturdy man with a well-groomed beard and eyes that surveyed the room with sharp curiosity. His presence commanded respect, and Torsten felt a mix of relief and apprehension.
"Geoffrey," the vice chief greeted, extending a hand toward him. "I heard you were here with an acquaintance. Who is this?"
"This is Torsten," Geoffrey replied, gesturing toward his companion. "He's the primary trader from Oakhaven. We've come to discuss some pressing matters."
Torsten nodded, his throat tightening as he prepared to explain their plight.
Geoffrey continued, "Oakhaven faces threats from armed men claiming to be mercenaries—bandits posing as professionals who are likely to disrupt our upcoming Awakening Ceremony."
The vice chief crossed his arms, considering Geoffrey's words. "Bandits pretending to be mercenaries? How serious is this threat?"
"Very serious," Torsten interjected, feeling compelled to emphasize their urgency. "Our village relies on the ceremony for guidance and strength, especially with our young people facing their Awakening soon."
"Protection for a village like yours," the vice chief mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I assume you're looking for hired muscle?"
Geoffrey nodded slowly but did not press for specifics just yet.
"We have some Tier 1 men available," the vice chief continued, shaking his head slightly. "However, hiring them for something like protecting your village would cost more than you might expect."
Torsten's heart sank at the mention of cost. They had barely enough resources as it was; he could already envision their desperate pleas falling on deaf ears.
But Geoffrey wasn't done yet.
"What about those students from Lumina Academy?" he suggested carefully, watching for any flicker of interest from the vice chief.
"Students?" The vice chief raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical.
"Yes," Geoffrey pressed on quickly before hesitation could settle in. "A trio currently training under your banner—they're talented and may wish to prove themselves outside of their usual duties."
The vice chief leaned back in thought for a moment before nodding slowly.
"It's worth a try," he conceded, folding his arms tighter across his chest as if weighing options within himself. "But keep in mind that students from Lumina Academy don't just jump at any chance for gold alone; they'll need something substantial to entice them."
Torsten exchanged glances with Geoffrey; they both understood what was at stake. The stakes had risen higher than mere payment; they needed something more profound to sway those young mercenaries into risking their lives for Oakhaven's safety.
The vice chief looked at them thoughtfully. "What if you meet with the group and lay out your troubles directly?"
Geoffrey's eyes lit up, and he shot a thankful glance at the vice chief. "Could you arrange the introductions?"
The vice chief acknowledged with a nod, a contemplative expression emerging as he rose and slipped out of the dimly lit chamber, leaving the door slightly ajar. The duo stayed behind, Torsten's brow furrowed in a frown as he grappled with the formidable dilemma of what they could present to the distinguished students of Lumina Academy.
His mind raced through possibilities, each measured against the high standards of these capable young mercenaries. What could compel such talented individuals to forsake their stable lives at the academy for the perils awaiting in Oakhaven? Something extraordinary must be presented to lure them from their pursuits.