Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 48: An Uneasy Alliance

The morning air was crisp as the trio made their way back to the Adventurers Guild. Quintin walked ahead, practically bouncing with excitement. His eyes darted around, taking in the sights of the bustling guild: adventurers sharpening their weapons, exchanging stories of their exploits, and boasting about their latest contracts.

The grand hall of the guild was alive with activity. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls, displayed behind reinforced glass cases—gleaming swords, intricately designed bows, and even a few firearms that caught Quintin's eye. He practically pressed his nose against the glass, muttering under his breath about how he could "totally handle one of those."

"You've got enough firepower for now," Lucian muttered from behind, arms crossed as he scanned the room with his usual sharp gaze.

"Yeah, but look at that one!" Quintin whispered excitedly, pointing to a revolver in one of the displays. Its silver frame glinted under the soft glow of the torches, and the handle was inlaid with intricate carvings. "Imagine the damage I could do with that beauty."

"More like the damage you'd do to yourself," Lucian grumbled.

Seraphine, walking beside Lucian, rolled her eyes but said nothing, her attention drawn to the adventurers around them. Each one seemed seasoned and confident, their weapons and armor bearing the marks of countless battles. It was clear they were outsiders in this world, but she wouldn't let that intimidate her.

As they stood in the center of the hall, Quintin was busy gawking at a massive greatsword mounted on the wall when he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder. He jumped nearly a foot in the air, spinning around with a yelp, his hand instinctively reaching for his revolver.

Standing behind him was none other than Alaric, his faint smile resembling a predator that had cornered its prey. His appearance was as immaculate as ever—his suit crisp, his hair perfectly styled.

"Good morning," Alaric said, his voice smooth and unbothered. He glanced at the trio, his eyes lingering on each of them in turn before settling on Quintin. "Admiring the merchandise, are we?"

Quintin scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. "Uh, yeah. Just… you know, looking."

Alaric chuckled, the sound low and deliberate. "Careful now. Some of those weapons have histories far bloodier than you might imagine."

Quintin's nervous grin faltered as he nodded quickly, stepping away from the display.

Alaric turned his attention to Seraphine and Lucian, his smile widening ever so slightly. "I trust you've had time to consider my offer?"

Seraphine glanced at Lucian, who was glaring daggers at Alaric, before stepping forward. "We've discussed it, and we've decided to accept."

The guild master's smile grew, though it never reached his eyes. "Excellent. I knew you'd come to the right decision. This partnership will be mutually beneficial, I assure you."

He extended his hand toward Seraphine, an invitation to seal the deal.

Before she could react, Lucian stepped forward and slapped Alaric's hand away with enough force to echo through the hall.

The room went silent..

Every adventurer in the guild stopped what they were doing to turn and stare. The receptionist, who had been sorting through papers at the counter, froze mid-motion, her jaw hanging open in shock.

Alaric, however, remained unfazed. He looked down at his hand, then back at Lucian, his smirk returning as though nothing had happened. "Well," he said lightly, "that's one way to reject a handshake."

"You don't deserve one," Lucian snapped, his voice low and venomous.

"Lucian," Seraphine warned, her tone sharp but quiet.

Alaric raised a hand, cutting her off. "It's quite alright," he said, his gaze fixed on Lucian. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

Lucian's glare intensified. "We're not friends. We're not allies. Don't think for a second that I trust you, because I don't."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Alaric replied smoothly, his smirk never wavering. "But trust isn't a requirement for this arrangement, now is it?"

Lucian took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "Just remember, if you try anything—anything—I won't hesitate to put you in the ground."

The tension in the room was palpable. The other adventurers watched in stunned silence, some murmuring to each other about the audacity of the confrontation.

Alaric, however, seemed completely at ease. He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping just enough for only Lucian to hear. "And if you ever manage to make good on that threat, I'll be impressed."

Lucian's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.

Seraphine stepped between them, her hand resting lightly on Lucian's arm. "That's enough," she said firmly. She turned to Alaric. "We've accepted your offer. Let's leave it at that."

"Of course," Alaric said, stepping back and adjusting his glasses. "I wouldn't dream of dragging this out any further. Welcome aboard."

He turned on his heel and walked away, his movements as smooth and deliberate as ever. The adventurers returned to their own business, though the occasional glance in the trio's direction showed that the scene hadn't been forgotten.

Aftermath

As they left the guild, Quintin broke the silence with a low whistle. "Well, that was… intense."

"Shut up, Quintin," Lucian snapped.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Quintin said defensively, holding up his hands. "You didn't have to slap the guy's hand like that. Talk about making a statement."

"Alaric deserved worse," Lucian growled.

Seraphine sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Lucian, I understand your frustration, but we need to be smarter about this. Alaric isn't someone we can afford to antagonize—at least not right now."

Lucian shot her a glare but said nothing, his silence a reluctant acknowledgment of her point.

Quintin glanced back at the guild, his expression thoughtful. "Do you think he's gonna hold a grudge?"

"Probably," Seraphine admitted, her tone heavy. "But if he does, we'll deal with it."

Lucian's scowl deepened, but he nodded. "Fine. But don't expect me to play nice."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Seraphine muttered, leading the way back to the tavern.

Quintin lagged behind, still fiddling with his revolver and muttering to himself about how much he wished he could afford that silver one in the display.

As the trio disappeared into the bustling streets of Loyrn, one thing was clear: their alliance with Alaric was already hanging by a thread.