Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 46: The Contract

The nurse's room was quiet the next morning, save for the faint rustling of Quintin fumbling with the food stash in his backpack. Lucian sat on the edge of his cot, sharpening his sword with deliberate focus, his eyes narrowing each time the whetstone slid across the blade. Seraphine sat by the window, gazing out at the streets of Loyrn with her usual calm, though her fingers tapped rhythmically against the sill, a subtle indication of her thoughts running deep.

The sound of boots against the wooden floor broke the silence, and all three turned their heads as the door creaked open.

In walked Alaric, his ever-present faint smirk firmly in place. He was accompanied by the guild receptionist, who carried a leather-bound folder pressed tightly to her chest.

"Good morning, my dear guests," Alaric greeted, his voice smooth as silk. His sharp eyes flicked over each of them, taking in their varying states of weariness. "I trust the nurse has taken good care of you."

"She did," Lucian replied curtly, returning his attention to his blade.

Quintin, however, sat up straighter, his curiosity piqued. "What's with the folder?"

Alaric's smirk widened as he gestured for the receptionist to step forward. She placed the folder on the nearby table, her movements precise and formal. "I thought it only proper to pay you a visit, considering the… predicament you find yourselves in. And, of course, to make you an offer."

Lucian's eyes narrowed, though he didn't look up. "We're not interested."

"You haven't even heard the offer yet," Alaric said, amusement lacing his tone. He opened the folder, revealing a set of crisp documents stamped with the guild's insignia. "A contract with the Adventurers Guild, tailored specifically for the three of you. It would grant you certain privileges, including access to resources, information, and—" He glanced at Quintin with a knowing smile. "—two top-quality revolvers for free."

Quintin's eyes lit up at the mention of the revolvers. "Free? Like, actually free?"

"Completely," Alaric assured him. "Consider it an incentive to join our ranks."

Before Quintin could respond, Lucian's voice cut through the room like a blade. "No."

Quintin blinked, confused. "But why not? We could use the resources! And… and the revolvers!"

Lucian finally looked up, his expression cold. "Because nothing in this world is truly free. Whatever strings are attached to that contract aren't worth it."

Alaric chuckled softly, unfazed by Lucian's hostility. "You wound me, Lucian. Do you truly believe I'd trap you in an unfavorable deal?"

"Yes," Lucian replied bluntly.

Seraphine, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally spoke. "What exactly does this contract entail?"

Alaric's gaze shifted to her, and for a moment, his smirk softened into something more genuine. "Simply put, you'd become official members of the guild. In return, we'd provide you with support—lodging, supplies, and access to classified information about Loyrn and beyond. Of course, there would be occasional assignments, but nothing outside your capabilities."

"And what happens if we decline?" Seraphine asked.

Alaric's smirk returned, though it was sharper now. "You'd remain outsiders, free to roam as you please. But you'd have no access to the guild's resources or protection. In a city like Loyrn, where danger lurks in every shadow… well, let's just say it's better to have allies."

Quintin glanced nervously between Seraphine and Lucian. "It doesn't sound that bad. And did I mention the revolvers?"

"You did," Lucian said dryly. He stood, sheathing his sword with a sharp motion. "We don't need their help."

"Speak for yourself," Quintin muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Lucian.

Seraphine crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. "We'll need time to consider it."

"Of course," Alaric said smoothly, closing the folder and handing it to the receptionist. "Take all the time you need. But do remember—opportunities like this don't come often."

Lucian scoffed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "We'll survive without your 'opportunity.'"

Alaric inclined his head, his smirk never faltering. "I admire your confidence. But do take care, Lucian. Loyrn has a way of humbling even the most self-assured."

With that, he turned and strode toward the door, the receptionist following closely behind. As the door closed behind them, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, though Lucian's scowl remained.

The Aftermath

Quintin broke the silence first. "I don't get why you're so against it, Lucian. We're practically dying out here, and they're offering us help!"

"Help that comes with strings," Lucian snapped. "Do you really think someone like Alaric would give us anything without expecting something in return?"

Quintin flinched at the harsh tone but didn't back down. "And what's the alternative? Wandering around Loyrn until we get ourselves killed?"

"We've managed so far," Lucian said coldly.

"Barely," Seraphine interjected, her voice calm but firm. She looked at Lucian with a steady gaze. "Quintin has a point. We can't keep going like this. If we're going to survive in Loyrn, we'll need allies. But…" She paused, her eyes narrowing. "I don't trust Alaric either. Not yet."

Lucian crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "Then we agree on one thing. We're not signing anything until we know exactly what we're getting into."

Quintin sighed, slumping back onto his cot. "Fine. But can we at least think about it? Those revolvers…"

Lucian shot him a glare, but Seraphine placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from snapping again. "We'll think about it," she said, her tone final.

Quintin nodded, though he still looked dissatisfied.

As the room fell silent once more, Lucian returned to sharpening his blade, the sound of the whetstone filling the air. Seraphine resumed her watch by the window, her mind already racing with plans and contingencies.

Quintin, however, couldn't help but glance at the door, wondering what Alaric's true intentions were—and whether accepting his offer would be their salvation or their downfall.