Chapter 6: The Sweating Guildmaster

The capital city gates came into view as sunset painted the sky orange.

We looked like we’d been through hell—which we had, literally. The girls were covered in dust, monster blood, and various dungeon fluids I didn’t want to identify. Valeria’s armor had scorch marks, Seraphina’s robes were torn, and Elara had somehow gotten ichor in her hair.

I was pristine.

Not a scratch, not a stain—because they’d formed a protective wall around me the entire journey back. Anyone who got close got murdered immediately. I didn’t ask them to do it, they just did.

“We’re home!” Elara bounced in her seat despite looking like she’d been dragged through a swamp.

The carriage stopped at our guild hall and they filed out. Valeria stretched, her joints popping—she looked satisfied in a way that was both attractive and concerning.

“That was a good hunt.”

“We obliterated a Lich King and collapsed an entire dungeon.”

“Exactly—good hunt.”

I paid the driver who took the money and left faster than necessary. Can’t blame him—six hours each way trapped with these three would traumatize anyone.

“I’m heading to the Guild Association to file the completion report. You three clean up and rest, we’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving us?” Seraphina tilted her head.

“For like two hours—you’ll survive.”

“Will we though?”

“Yes. Go inside, take showers, try not to destroy anything.”

Valeria stepped closer, looking at me with those intense red eyes. Her hand moved to my shoulder—possessive, territorial.

“Come back quickly.”

“It’s a report filing, not a vacation.”

“Good.”

She walked inside with Seraphina and Elara following, all three of them keeping looking back at me like I might vanish if they blinked. It was exhausting being the center of their obsessive attention.

I walked toward the Association headquarters.

The building dominated the city center—white marble, gold trim, massive pillars, flying banners with the guild crest. It looked like a palace because it basically was. The Guild Association controlled everything adventurer-related in the kingdom: money, power, influence.

And they were very, very interested in my team.

I climbed the steps where guards nodded at me, recognizing me instantly—everyone did. I was famous for all the wrong reasons: the man who wrangles monsters, the zookeeper of Crimson Rose.

Inside was just as opulent with polished floors, crystal chandeliers, and expensive artwork. I walked past the main lobby, past the quest offices, taking the stairs to the top floor where the executives worked.

Grand Guildmaster Beatrice’s office was at the end of the hall, her door made of ornate wood carved with protective runes. I knocked.

“Come in, come in! Don’t be shy!”

The voice was cheerful—too cheerful.

I opened the door.

The office was huge with bookshelves lining the walls and a massive desk near the window overlooking the city. Behind it sat Beatrice herself—fifties, steel-gray hair pulled into a loose ponytail, sharp features, eyes sparkling with mischief and hidden knowledge.

She was eating candy from a bowl shaped like a skull.

“Rian! My favorite walking disaster prevention system! Please, sit, sit.” She gestured enthusiastically with a lollipop.

I sat in the chair across from her desk, something feeling off—she was too happy, too relaxed, like someone who knew a secret and enjoyed watching everyone else scramble.

“I’ve come to report the completion of the Dragon’s Maw dungeon mission.”

“The Crypt of the Undying King—S-rank, twenty-person recommended party size, you brought four.” She popped the lollipop in her mouth. “And you completed it in, what, two days? That’s a new record. Malthor must be so embarrassed, being in the afterlife and learning he got speed-run by a quartet of absolute lunatics.”

“We’re efficient.”

“You’re terrifying—there’s a difference.”

She pulled out a folder, thick and suspiciously so for a simple completion report.

“Let’s see: dungeon core destroyed, check. Boss eliminated, check. Zero casualties on your team, check. Civilian casualties from collateral damage—zero, surprisingly. Property damage to surrounding forest—extensive but expected. Psychological trauma to local wildlife—immeasurable.”

“Are you going to process the reward or just read my entire file?”

“Oh, I already processed it—six hundred fifty thousand gold, deposited five minutes after you entered the building. I’m very good at my job.” She grinned. “I’m just enjoying myself. You don’t visit often enough and it’s lonely up here with all these serious people. You’re fun—your life is like watching a theatrical tragedy except everyone’s hot and probably needs therapy.”

“Glad my suffering entertains you.”

“It does! Immensely!”

She leaned back in her chair, tossing the lollipop stick into a wastebasket across the room—perfect shot.

“So, what do you want, Rian? You came all the way up here, filed the report in person instead of using the standard channels. That means you want something—ask away.”

“Time off, a vacation. Two weeks somewhere far from here.”

Beatrice laughed.

It wasn’t a nervous laugh but genuine amusement—she laughed like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Oh, you’re serious—that’s even better.”

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a ‘let’s discuss this like adults who understand consequences.'”

She pulled out another folder marked with red seals—official, classified. She slid it across the desk.

“Open it, page forty-seven. I’ll wait.”

I opened the folder where most of the content was standard threat assessment stuff: monster migrations, cult activity, political instability. Then I reached page forty-seven.

“Catastrophic Risk Scenarios – Priority Alpha.”

My name was at the top—above demon lords, above natural disasters, above foreign invasion.

“Scenario designation: The Crimson Rose Contingency. Risk Level: Civilization-Ending. Probability if Guild Master Rian abandons post: 98.7 percent.”

I kept reading through the brutal details: Valeria going on a murder spree, Seraphina destabilizing the economy, Elara starting a pain cult—everything laid out with cold, clinical precision.

“This is a joke.”

“It’s not. Well, it’s a little bit of a joke—Seraphina would definitely enjoy the economic chaos part. I added that myself based on her personality profile.” Beatrice pulled out a fan, waving it lazily. “But the core premise is accurate: you leave, they break. They break, the kingdom suffers. Simple math—tragic, sure, but simple.”

“You can’t legally keep me here against my will.”

“I can’t, but I can make it very, very inconvenient for you to leave. Besides, you won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you care about them.”

She said it simply, matter-of-fact, like she was commenting on the weather.

“You think they’re insane, think they’re dangerous—you’re not wrong. But you also care. You wouldn’t have taken that S-rank mission if you didn’t, wouldn’t be here filing reports if you didn’t. You could have walked away years ago but didn’t.”

I didn’t respond—she was right, and I hated that she was right.

“So here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to give you a million gold, give you political immunity, give you access to resources that would make kings jealous. And in exchange, you’re going to keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

“Which is?”

“Being their anchor, their conscience, their leash—whatever metaphor you prefer.”

She leaned forward, her expression shifting—still smiling, but with something calculating underneath.

“You’re part of something bigger, Rian, whether you know it or not. This kingdom needs strong pieces on the board. Your girls? They’re Queens—powerful, unpredictable, dangerous. And you? You’re the King. Not because you’re the strongest, but because if you fall, the game ends.”

“That’s a chess metaphor—are you calling my life a game?”

“Life is always a game. The trick is figuring out who’s playing and what they’re playing for.”

She pulled out a contract, freshly prepared.

“Sign this: acknowledge the situation, accept the compensation, keep your team functional. Everyone wins.”

“Except me—I’m still trapped.”

“You’re rich and trapped, big difference.”

She pushed the pen toward me.

I stared at the contract, knowing I could refuse, could walk out—but then what? They’d implement containment protocols, my team would be locked up or worse, people would die.

I signed.

Beatrice took the contract, examining my signature with an approving nod.

“Excellent—you’re officially the highest-paid babysitter in the kingdom. Congratulations.”

“Is there anything else? Or can I go back to my disaster crew?”

“One more thing.”

She stood up, walking to the window—her expression unreadable. For the first time since I entered, she looked serious.

“Things are changing, Rian—the kingdom, the world. There are forces moving that most people don’t see. You and your team? You’re going to be important, more important than you realize.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means keep them close, keep them sharp. And when the time comes, trust your instincts.”

“You’re being cryptic.”

“I’m being prepared—there’s a difference.”

She turned back to me, the mischievous smile returning.

“Now go—your murder puppies are probably destroying the guild hall looking for you. And Rian? Try to have fun. You’re stuck with this life, might as well enjoy the perks.”

I left without responding.

The walk back felt different, heavier. Beatrice wasn’t afraid of my team—she was planning something, using us somehow. But for what?

I didn’t know, and that scared me more than anything else.

I opened the door to the guild hall where Valeria was waiting. She’d cleaned up—armor polished, hair down. She looked almost soft, almost human.

“You’re back.”

“Told you I would be.”

“How did it go?”

“Got paid, got promoted, got reminded that my life is not my own.”

She smiled—not her sadistic smile but something gentler, more genuine.

“Good—you belong here with us.”

“I know.”

She pulled me into a hug, awkward because she wasn’t good at affection that didn’t involve violence, but she tried. I felt her heartbeat through her armor—fast, nervous.

“I’m glad you came back.”

“Where else would I go?”

Nowhere—the answer was nowhere. This was my life now, my prison. These three beautiful disasters were my wardens and my wards all at once.

And somewhere, Beatrice was moving pieces on a board I couldn’t see.