Being explicitly forbidden from sparring with the Radiant Vigil’s squires, at least until the waters had fully calmed, Orion was left with little choice but to seek out the only other company he could use as an excuse to leave the embassy, where just about every witch seemed to have developed a fascination with him, much like an entomologist would with a newly discovered insect.

  Strolling along the public section of the riverfront, which had been warded from the sound and smell of the fishing and shipping industries, with one hand holding a sticky-sweet pastry filled with mou-flavored cream, and the other gesturing wildly as he explained how bad the last few days had been, Orion finally felt a bit better.

  “And then she made me repeat the whole thing. Twice! If I ever have to go through a mock state dinner again, I will… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it will be suitably dramatic, trust me on that.”

  Ophelia’s bright laughter burst out from behind her hands, no matter how much she tried to hold it in, but luckily for her, he was feeling kind, so he didn’t take offense at her mockery of his suffering.

  “That must have been terrible, truly,” she giggled, still trying to get herself under control. “I can’t imagine how awful it must have been.”

  Muted snorts echoed from behind, and Orion didn’t even bother to turn around and glare at their guards for their cheekiness. It wouldn’t accomplish much anyway, and he had given up on trying to educate them.

  You might think that, as an adventuring team capable of striking out on their own and forming a new minor faction, they would be more polite. Instead, they seem perfectly content to annoy me as much as they can.

  After Antares’ sudden approach and easy dispatching of the guards Minister Ames had assigned to watch over them, Ophelia’s grandfather decided to use his greatest asset—money—and bought the protection of someone who could, hopefully, offer better protection.

  The Basilisk Fang was a team of five members, all in the third tier, who eagerly took on the comfortable job of defending Ophelia against anyone reckless enough to challenge the High Council’s decision before the ink it was penned with had even dried.

  An A-rank adventuring team was very expensive to hire, especially for an extended period, but Minister Ames didn’t hesitate to do so, and Orion was thankful for it. Their presence was the one thing that convinced his mother to agree to his request for some time outside the embassy.

  He was quick to notice, however, that they weren’t exactly what they portrayed themselves to be. I don’t know what method the Guild or anyone else, for that matter, uses to differentiate between tiers, but these guys seem to have figured out how to spoof it.

  Only three of their members truly were who they claimed to be.

  [Lorena Mustard - Lv. 127] [Dawn Archer - B-Rank]

  [Bart Tassaliki - Lv. 131] [Mage of White - B-Rank]

  [Abella Bristle - Lv. 120] [WildMaster Tamer - B-Rank]

  Powerful, without a doubt. Enough to make any hired blade reconsider attacking them, regardless of their affiliation or personal power.

  Lorena was a pretty blonde girl, with eyes full of grit and a smooth gait that warned everyone not to underestimate her. Bart was a more reserved man, but his spine was straight and his ability to wield mana was genuinely impressive. Orion suspected him to be one of those men who had left the Sanctum once it became clear his gender wouldn’t let him rise any higher, no matter his talent, though Orion still hadn’t found a chance to ask.

  And Abella was a towering woman, easily the most noticeable in the group, wearing leather clothes that highlighted her powerful, scarred build. She was always accompanied by songbirds, cats, or even small rodents.

  But it was the other two that caught Orion's interest. They were just so much more.

  [Elodie Mush - Lv. 149] [Blade of the Seven Lights - B-Rank]

  [Seothyn - Lv. ???] [??? - A-Rank]

  Elodie was not someone he would have pegged as being on the edge of the fourth tier. She carried herself with little confidence, and her eyes darted around searching for danger, but her accomplishments spoke for her talent, especially since she couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  And then there was the elf. Seothyn was an easy-going sort, charming and cool in such an effortless way that even Orion found himself relaxing around him.

  That alone would have made him very wary, but his inability to see his level and class placed the elf in a category usually reserved for the Veil Priestesses and similar ranks in the other major factions.

  That he was here, living a carefree life, while his people fought a bloody battle in the south, didn’t surprise him. Orion had already met another elf in Silverpeak who had explained that not all elves were beholden to the Enclave’s commands, just as not all humans followed the edicts of the faction governing their land.

  No, what surprised him was that, even more than Othon, Seothyn was entirely different from the stereotypes and experiences he’d had with others of his kind.

  Sure, the merchant elves who traveled through Silverpeak in the past probably weren’t a representative group of their race, but they could be counted on to be somewhat haughty and aloof, only bothering to make the trip north because of the wealth they could gain from it.

  Seothyn was entirely too gregarious, touchy, and openly happy.

  Orion didn’t necessarily want to think poorly of the elf, not when he hadn’t done anything to set off alarm bells, but he was still surprised whenever Seothyn did something he knew for a fact other elves would have never been caught dead doing.

  Case in point, he was currently ribbing Elodie for being too cautious. “What is the worst that can happen? We are guarding a noble and her witch friend. No one would be stupid enough to attack in broad daylight, and in Valderun at that!”

  Elodie didn’t seem particularly affected by his argument. “S-Seothyn, there is a reason why we were hired. D-don’t slack off.”

  The others burst into laughter when their leader was reprimanded by the shyest member of the team, once again showing his complete un-elfness. Seothyn shrugged with a smile, putting his hands behind his head, and walked away with a smile. “Eh, I’ve been trying to tempt fate with phrases like that for a while, but it honestly seems like nothing will happen. This might be the most boring month of our lives. But I guess we’ll make pretty good money from it, so it’s not that bad. No offense meant, little miss.”

  Ophelia shrugged, unaffected by his naked self-interest. Considering that Orion now knew she was the daughter of a major mercenary company leader, maybe that shouldn’t have been surprising.

  She also has dragon blood in her. That has to count for something when it comes to greed, right? Though I don’t know what kind of genetic component could explain that. Perhaps something similar to how magpies are drawn to shiny objects? Are dragons more birdlike than snake-like?

  Before he could get too caught up in that train of thought, despite its surely rewarding end, Orion was forced to stop walking because a crowd had gathered in the middle of the riverwalk, blocking the way.

  “What’s going on?” Ophelia asked, and the members of the Basilisk Fang quickly got to work, losing their carefree attitude in an instant. Seothyn assumed a stance before them, relaxed yet alert, with steel in his eyes. Elodie moved to the left, where most of the people were coming from, while Abella and Barth took the back and right positions, respectively, covering every possible approach.

  Lorena, supposedly the fastest of the group, moved ahead to get some eyeballs on the commotion.

  For a city where violence is supposed to be prohibited, there sure is a lot happening.

  Soon enough, Lorena returned with a complicated expression. “It’s nothing particularly worrying. A group of students from the Collegium seems to have gotten into it with a young dragonlord and his posse, and they are posturing at each other. It doesn’t seem like either is about to escalate, not the least because the wards are very alert at the moment, but it’d probably be best to skirt around them to avoid getting drawn into it.”

  The adventurers relaxed imperceptibly now that they knew it wasn’t something more dangerous than a few hormonal teenagers throwing insults at each other, but Orion wasn’t so quick to dismiss the problem.

  He didn’t expect the Collegium’s students to get drawn into it, but he had been waiting for the dragonlords to take action after being forced to accept a defeat in the Council, regardless of how much it had been cushioned by the wealth the Golden General and Minister Ames had agreed to provide in exchange for Ophelia’s freedom.

  His narrowed eyes met Seothyn’s, and he found surprising understanding in them. I guess that, as the leader of the protective detail, he must have been briefed about what actually happened. He has to know who to watch out for.

  “Shall we take a detour away from the riverwalk entirely?” The elf asked perceptively.

  As Orion was about to give his assent, not interested in being drawn into the grandstanding and barely veiled threats that were surely to follow once the two groups really got going, a shout echoed, silencing the crowd.

  “I challenge you, you bloody slithering worm!”

  The silence that followed was tense and filled with enough anticipation to make the hair on Orion’s arms stand up.

  “I accept,” was the hissed reply, and Orion finally saw who the two would-be duelists were.

  Opposite him, and thus easiest to see in his face, was a young man with a red face and elaborate mage’s robes, holding a wand pointed toward his opponent.

  The other was a young dragonkin, whose horns had yet to grow enough to curl. His skin was tanned, with red scales framing his face, from what little he could see. He also sported a dark red mane the color of blood, and Orion didn’t need to see his face to feel the bloodthirsty, fanged grin on it.

  The young mage clearly hadn’t expected such eagerness, and he hesitated briefly over what to say before straightening his shoulders and nodding firmly. “I shall have one of the dueling chambers at the Collegium prepared by this time tomorrow.”

  That seemed reasonable enough, at least in context, but the dragonlord didn’t seem to agree, because he advanced on the mage until the tip of the wand touched his chest. “Why wait until tomorrow? The Adventurer’s Guild has fields open at all times, where the wards won’t bother us.”

  That’s a trap. It has to be, right? He’s not stupid enough to accept, right?

  Unfortunately, pride outweighed whatever intelligence the mage may have possessed, as he adopted a mulish look and snorted in acceptance. “Very well, you seem eager to be put in your place. Whether it is now or tomorrow, it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Poor kid,” Seothyn murmured, and Orion had to agree. No matter how confident the young mage might be in his skills, he didn’t stand a chance against the dragonlord.

  [Jonatan Blissey - Lv. 61] [Blue Mage - C-Rank]

  [Erethemor Und’erter - Lv. 98] [Burning Dragonlord - B-Rank]

  If the difference in level hadn’t been enough, Erethemor was another extra ranker. There was simply no way he could lose, not unless he deliberately threw the fight.

  But given the wild look in his eyes, he probably wasn’t going to.

  “Well, what are you two waiting for?” He heard Ophelia ask, and he turned to see her tapping her foot impatiently several paces away, seemingly ready to leave. “If we don’t get moving, we’ll never get good seats. And I’m not missing the most interesting thing to happen this week.”

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