When the waves of anxiety, fear, envy, and anger struck the kingdoms, four people were enjoying themselves outside of the walls, far from the suffocating atmosphere of scheming and intrigue. They danced under the open sky, the scent of wild herbs mingling with the aroma of their campfire cooking. After feasting on a satisfying meal, they lay on the cool grass, sharing memories of their happiest life moments, their voices punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter that drifted into the night air.
Jasper lingered at the edge of their circle, watching with quiet fondness—close enough to share the moment, yet distant enough to remain an observer. Sunlight bathed their faces as they talked, etching every unguarded laugh and furrowed brow into clarity. Then, the conversation lulled. One by one, their eyes turned to him, and the air grew thick with waiting.
"Huh? What?" Jasper blinked, his thoughts returning from somewhere distant.
"Don't you have any happy moments in life, master?" Ivar blurted out, his voice carrying the straightforward curiosity of someone who spoke before thinking. His broad shoulders tensed immediately when he realized his potential misstep.
"Ouch!" he yelped as Mina's sharp fingers delivered a precise pinch to his forearm. Simultaneously, Lysandra's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her gaze promising retribution.
"Giggle," Jasper said, the sound not quite reaching his eyes. "You deserve it, my friend, honestly." His voice softened, becoming almost wistful. "Looking at me hiding myself as if I was a criminal is answer enough. However, I had moments when I felt happy."
He paused, his fingers absently tracing patterns in the dirt beside him. "My mother—or let's call her my stepmother—was too kind to me the first time she came to my previous house. Her love for me was genuine. I'm sure about that, she protected me from all kinds of stress in this world."
Jasper's normally guarded expression melted slightly, revealing a glimpse of the boy he once was. "She'd read stories for me before sleeping, her voice changing for each character, making the tales come alive in the darkness of my room. When we played together, she'd laugh with complete abandon. But what I liked about her the most was that she never feared me; when she hugged me for the first time, she did it warmly and tightly—I could smell the lavender she always wore and feel safe, truly safe."
His voice hardened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "Sigh, all of that shattered one day, turning from..." He stopped abruptly, his jaw tightening. "Never mind. I don't want to ruin our joyous day. Let's continue celebrating—tomorrow is a turning point in our lives."
Though the others couldn't see his expression, Jasper's eyes reflected his churning thoughts about tomorrow's plans, while outwardly maintaining a calm demeanor to hide his growing anxiety about the kingdom's precarious state.
Back at the inn, where the floorboards creaked with every step and the walls held the musty scent of old wood, Ivar and Mina began sharing one room. The newlyweds' soft laughter could occasionally be heard through the thin walls, while the singles retreated to their separate chambers, each secretly hoping that someday they too would find their kindred spirit.
In his bed, Jasper lay on his back, the scratchy woolen blanket pulled up to his chest, staring at the ceiling where shadows danced from the single candle's flame. His mind raced with possibilities and dangers, the future appearing as hazy and shifting as the fog that rolled in from the river at dawn. Before he realized it, warm sunlight was streaming through the grimy window, and the disorienting sensation of lost time and sudden awakening washed over him.
"Wow, when did I fall asleep?" he muttered, his mouth dry and his head surprisingly clear despite the drowsiness he felt in his bones.
"So sad! I haven't played in quite a while. I wanted to track down that son of a slime who escaped from me last time—what was its name again?… Ah, yeah. Metal Slime." Jasper stretched his muscles as he spoke.
At the same moment, a gentle but persistent knocking came at the door, the rhythm distinctly feminine.
"Master, wake up! The sun is already up." Lysandra's melodic voice carried through the wood, its tone respectful yet familiar.
"I'm already up," Jasper called back, his voice still rough with sleep. "Hey, Lysandra! Are the other two up yet?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold floor.
"I don't think so," she answered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I didn't dare to wake them up. They seemed... quite tired from yesterday."
"Good. Let's go down to eat our breakfast. They'll join us when they wake up," Jasper said, quickly splashing his face with water from the basin and running fingers through his disheveled hair.
Going down to the first floor, each step on the ancient wooden stairs announced their descent with a symphony of creaks and groans. The common room below was filled with the competing aromas of fresh bread, sizzling bacon, and the sour tang of ale spilled the night before. The morning chatter died down as heads turned in their direction—or more accurately, toward Lysandra, whose breathtaking beauty drew attention even in the dim light of the tavern.
Jasper felt the weight of those stares like physical pressure against his skin. His instincts, honed by years of suffering, immediately alerted him to potential danger.
"Hey, Lysandra," he murmured under his breath, "go back and bring your cape. The people's lives are in shambles now; we don't want to attract problems." His tone was casual but left no room for argument.
Lysandra's brow furrowed, the delicate lines forming between her eyes as confusion flashed across her face. "But we didn't do anything," she replied, her voice carrying the light accent that marked her as a foreigner to these parts.
"They'll find fault with us for whatever stupid reason," Jasper explained, scanning the room without seeming to. "At the very least, I don't want the 'Beauty and the Beast' excuse."
A smile tugged at Lysandra's lips, transforming her confusion to amusement. "Even though it's true?" she asked with a perfectly straight face, though the mischievous glint in her amber eyes betrayed her humor.
"Ha ha ha," Jasper replied dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "That's not funny. Now go."
Lysandra ascended the stairs again, her light footsteps punctuated by barely suppressed giggles, while Jasper made his way to an empty table in the corner, where he could keep his back to the wall and observe the entire room.
No sooner had he settled than two unwelcome visitors plopped themselves down across from him. The first man was rail-thin, with a weasel-like face and small darting eyes that never seemed to settle in one place—the kind who found courage in tormenting those weaker than himself. His companion was his opposite: corpulent and sweaty, with a belly that strained against his threadbare shirt, the type who endured rather than fought back.
"Hey there," the skinny man drawled, his breath reeking of last night's alcohol, "who's that fine lady with you a moment ago?" His tone contained an unmistakable insinuation.
Jasper's fingers tightened imperceptibly around his cup as irritation flared within him. He'd hoped to avoid confrontation, especially so early in their plans.
"Why would you care?" he replied, his voice deliberately flat and uninterested, eyes not meeting the man's but instead focused on a point just beyond his shoulder.
The skinny man leaned forward, his chair scraping against the floor. "She's to my liking," he said with a leer that revealed yellowed teeth. "I can buy her from you. I might look penniless, but I'm actually wealthy." He paused for effect, then proudly announced, "my wealth is around 20g—how about 5g?" He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest like a strutting rooster.
"Pffft!" The sound escaped Jasper before he could control it.
Blink repeatedly!
"What's so funny about what I said, huh?!" The skinny man's voice rose sharply as he slammed his fist on the table, causing nearby patrons to glance over nervously before quickly looking away.
"No, no, nothing. I'm sorry," Jasper replied, composing his features though amusement still danced in his eyes. "She's just priceless. How can someone sell his family member?" He adjusted his posture, sitting more upright after nearly losing his composure at the absurdity of the offer.
"Stop with your crap!" the fat man interjected, his voice surprisingly childish for someone his size. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead despite the cool morning air. "Everyone sells their family for wealth—even nobles sell their daughters to other families for wealth. Who are you to say such a thing?" His jowls quivered with indignation.
"I'm still nobody for the moment," Jasper conceded, tilting his head to the side. A small, knowing smirk played across his lips as he added, "And yes, a lot of people have sold their family for wealth; however, I'm not one of those people." He paused, letting the tension stretch between them before adding, "Thank you for amusing me. Now, you can continue on your way."
"Huh? Continue on our way?" the skinny man sputtered, his face reddening. "Don't mess with me—I'm here to buy her no matter what! Don't force my hand!" Spittle flew from his mouth as his voice rose in pitch.
Both men glared at Jasper with mounting anger, completely oblivious to the large shadow that had fallen over them from behind. Only when they felt the ominous presence at their backs did they slowly turn, their expressions morphing from anger to uncertainty.
Ivar stood behind them, massive and imposing, his muscular arms coming to rest heavily on each of their shoulders. The friendly smile on his face didn't reach his cold eyes.
"I want to see you forcing your hand," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. "What should we do with these two, Master?" The last word hung in the air between them.
"Master?" they questioned in unison, their voices cracking as they swiveled back to look at Jasper. Recognition and fear bloomed across their features in equal measure.
"Heh heh heh," the skinny man laughed nervously, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Don't take it to heart, Mr. Master. You know, we're just trying to add some humor and action to life, especially in the morning. So you can start your day in a good mood, right, Jack?" He frantically winked at his companion.
"You're totally right, Eddy," the fat man replied, nodding so vigorously his cheeks wobbled. "Just a bit of morning entertainment, that's all!"
"Leave them be, Ivar," Jasper said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They're right—my mood went up after speaking to them. You can go, both of you."
"Thank you, Mr. Master." They scrambled to their feet, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to escape, the backs of their shirts dark with sweat.
As they settled at the table, Jasper turned to Lysandra, who had returned wearing her cape that concealed her trouble-magnet features.
"You should always wear your hood like me when going out," he advised, gesturing to his own dark cowl. "Some small fry we can deal with, but if a pain in the neck takes a liking to you, it'll be a huge problem." His tone was light but his eyes held genuine concern.
"Just thinking about it gives me a shiver." Lysandra hugged herself as the idea crossed her mind, her slender fingers gripping her upper arms tightly. "I've heard stories of what happens to women who catch a noble's eye."
"As for you, Ivar," Jasper continued, turning to the large man who was now demolishing a plate of eggs and bacon, "your timing was good. Even though they seemed easy to deal with, I'm even easier than them." He took a sip of his orange juice before adding, "Today, I forgive you for waking up late, but if you do it another time, you'll be punished."
"Huh? No, master!" Ivar choked slightly on his food, his eyes widening. "It won't happen again." The genuine alarm in his voice suggested that Jasper's punishments were not to be taken lightly.
"Relax, Ivar," Jasper said, leaning back in his chair. "It won't be harsh. You just won't be able to share a room with Mina for a week." Though his face remained hidden beneath his hood, the evil smile that spread across it could almost be felt in the air.
Ivar froze mid-bite, his fork suspended halfway to his mouth. Across the table, Mina, who had just arrived in time to hear the threat, turned pale.
"Huh?" Jasper blinked, surprised by the impact of his words. He had meant only to tease Ivar but had inadvertently struck both of them.
"That's two birds with one stone you got there, master," Lysandra said, giggling behind her hand, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
The rest of the meal passed in comfortable camaraderie, the sizzling plates of food and murmured conversations around them creating a cocoon of normalcy. The bread was freshly baked, with a crunchy crust giving way to a soft, warm interior. The eggs were perfectly cooked, their yolks rich and golden against the white. For a brief moment, they appeared as if they were just ordinary citizens, not people with extraordinary plans and uncertain futures.
After the hearty meal warmed their bellies and lifted their spirits, they gathered inside their old wagon. The familiar smells of wood, leather, and the faint trace of herbs Lysandra always carried surrounded them as they huddled together to discuss their next steps. Jasper had been turning over possibilities in his mind since yesterday, trying to navigate the shifting landscape of a market in turmoil.
"Any bright ideas on how to deal with the situation?" he asked, his fingers drumming a restless pattern on his knee.
"All we have to do is find a building and start working. That's our first step, no?" Mina's practical voice cut through the uncertainty. "We don't need to overthink things, Master," she added, her gentle eyes seeking to reassure him. Her hands rested calmly in her lap.
"You're absolutely right, Mina," Jasper acknowledged with a nod. "Overthinking won't help when I'm not even sure how things will turn out." He ran a hand through his nonexistent hair, momentarily dislodging his hood
"Why not try making an information network?" Ivar suggested, his deep voice thoughtful. "They'll bring us all the information in the city and dig up any schemes behind the scenes. It'll help us in the long run." His expression remained serious, at odds with his usually carefree demeanor.
"What?" Ivar's imaginary brow furrowed at their shocked expressions.
Without warning, Jasper lunged forward, enveloping Ivar in an enthusiastic embrace that nearly knocked the larger man backward. Ivar froze for a second as he saw his master jumping on him with his scary face.
"Hey Mina," Lysandra called across the wagon, her eyes dancing with mischief, "did your husband get smarter overnight by any chance? Did you do something to him, or does marriage make you smarter?" Her teasing tone carried genuine shock.
"That's something I want to know too," Mina replied, staring at her husband as if seeing him for the first time. Her surprise was more evident than anyone else's.
"You're looking down on me too much, folks," Ivar grumbled, raising his arms. "I've always been smart—I just didn't have the opportunity to use my mind." Despite his words, a pleased flush colored his cheeks.
Jasper, still clinging to Ivar like a child with a favorite toy, was already analyzing the idea, his mind racing with possibilities. Without wasting another moment, he sprang to the front of the wagon, the wooden boards creaking under his sudden movement.
"Let's go," he called back, taking up the reins with renewed purpose. "First, I need to find a location for our guild; then, we'll work on Ivar's brilliant idea." The gold coins in his pouch clinked softly against each other as he moved, a tangible reminder of the resources at his disposal—resources that would fuel the plan forming in his mind.
They spent days searching for the right location, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves on cobblestone streets becoming the soundtrack to their quest. But with each promising building they found, the price tag attached to it seemed to have doubled overnight, making their search increasingly frustrating.
"Master," Lysandra said one evening as they sat around a table, the smell of roasting roots filling the air, "my father once told me about herbalists and how they were treated as witches or wizards. After those witches and wizards ruined our reputation." Her voice took on the cadence of someone reciting a cherished memory. "But he also believed that one day, when folks understood their value—how they were people who wished to save others through medical knowledge—they would seek their help even on top of the mountains or deep in the oceans, let alone forests." Her eyes reflected the dancing flames of candles as she spoke.
Jasper stopped midway through biting into his dinner, his eyes widening with sudden comprehension.
"You know, friends," he said slowly, looking at each of them in turn, "you're all worth more than anyone could pay." A genuine smile spread across his face, transforming his usually guarded features. "Though what you said seems obvious, not everyone can think so clearly."
The next day, Jasper bought a huge yet dilapidated building. The stones were weathered, some crumbling at the edges, and ivy climbed unchecked up its walls. Windows gaped like empty eye sockets, some still containing shards of broken glass that caught the sunlight at odd angles. The location wasn't good by conventional standards—it stood in an area known for its shadowy alleys and dangerous reputation, where the acrid smell of garbage mingled with the damp of rotting wood, and footsteps always seemed to echo too loudly.
But that's exactly why Jasper wanted it even more.
"Master," Lysandra said with a shiver, pulling her cape tighter around her shoulders as a cold draft whistled through the cracks in the walls, "while I know I said the place doesn't mean everything, this place is still really uncomfortable." Fear and doubt were etched clearly across her delicate features as she eyed a particularly large spider making its way across the ceiling.
"You've been saying that for hours now," Jasper replied, his voice filled with certainty as he ran his hand along a dusty windowsill, leaving a clean trail behind. "Don't worry—this place will be our safest haven for a long time." The conviction in his voice was absolute, his eyes already seeing not what the building was, but what it would become.
Over the course of a full month, as autumn leaves turned from green to gold and the air grew crisp with the promise of winter, he brought craftsmen to repair the building, with their skillful hands and the abundance of materials, they finished the work by the end of the month. turning a creepy looking building into a magnificent one.
"Now that we got ourselves a building, it will be our home and our guild. All we need to do now is some dangerous tricks to build our network."