Chapter 73: Guild Politics and Peaceful Nightmares
Karlune's Rest was too small for them now.
Isaac realized it the moment a second noble carriage pulled into town—this one double-parked by the bakery—just to deliver another absurd marriage proposal.
A velvet-lined box was handed to him, inside which lay a gleaming ring etched with the sigil of a swan and a letter declaring "eternal gratitude and potential shared land rights."
Isaac closed the box slowly, as if defusing a volatile artifact."No."
The noble envoy bowed with a knowing smile. "We understand, sir. We shall return in three days. Perhaps your heart—"
"No," Isaac repeated.
As the carriage trundled away, Isaac turned to Lira."Do I have something on my face? Or am I just radiating 'please marry me for political power' these days?"
Lira examined him thoughtfully. "Honestly? You kind of do."
That morning, the guildmaster summoned him.
Guildmaster Ferros was a heavy-set man with a shaved head, a grizzled beard, and a perpetual air of being one overdue paperwork away from snapping.
He gestured at the neat stack of documents on his desk."All of these are requests. A-rank and higher. And they're all asking for one specific person."
Isaac blinked. "Do they want a charming corpse with divine flame?"
"No, they want you," Ferros grunted. "Because you killed an S-rank Spiral Cult leader. Do you realize how many elite adventurers failed at that?"
Isaac raised a finger. "Counterpoint: that guy had Charisma 7."
Ferros didn't flinch. "He was still S-rank. Your actions are making waves. And waves attract ships. Sometimes pirate ships."
Isaac groaned. "I vaporize one swamp goth and suddenly I'm a continental threat."
Ferros slid a paper across the table. "Effective immediately, you're A-rank. I already signed it."
Isaac stared. "I didn't agree to this."
"You're not being given a choice."
Lira gave him a thumbs up. "Congratulations. You're officially a problem."
Later that evening, the two strolled through town.
Isaac kicked a rock. It landed in a puddle. The puddle evaporated.
He sighed. "Karlune's not built for my stats anymore."
A group of kids ran by. One shouted, "Sir Isaac! Blow up a mountain next!"
"Sorry," Isaac replied. "That's scheduled for Tuesday."
Lira gave him a look. "You're going to cause an international incident before summer."
He smiled back. "That's why we need to leave."
As they passed the merchant row, a familiar voice called out, "Well, if it isn't the walking calamity and his lightning lass."
They turned. It was Renall, the caravan master who had first brought them into Karlune.
He leaned against his wagon, arms crossed, a pipe between his teeth and a grin on his weathered face.
"You've been busy," he said, looking Isaac up and down. "Guild whispers say you turned an S-rank cultist into soup."
"Soup was an improvement," Isaac said. "And yes. We've, uh, leveled up."
Lira added, "And now we're looking to leave."
Renall raised an eyebrow. "Tired of being adored?"
"More like allergic to politics," Isaac said. "We want to go somewhere larger—more monsters, fewer princesses."
The merchant chuckled. "Smart. Karlune's charming, but it's not made for god-bothering types like you."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully."If you're heading out, try Velkarth Basin. Big city, strong adventurer's guild, and the surrounding wildlands are full of creatures you might actually have to try against."
Isaac nodded. "Sounds perfect."
"And," Renall added, "nobles there already have their own mess. You might go unnoticed. Might."
Isaac shook the man's hand. "Thanks, Renall. We owe you again."
"Don't thank me until you survive the road. It's a month's travel, give or take. I'll be heading out in two days if you want a ride."
"Done," Isaac said. "One more reason to pack fast."
That night, they stood at the edge of town beneath a sky speckled with stars.
Isaac exhaled."So. New adventures?"
Lira bumped her shoulder into his. "Let's just not get married to royalty along the way."
"No promises."
And with that, they turned their backs on Karlune's Rest—one step ahead of politics, prophets, and prophesied weddings.