"W ell, well…" Jill's voice drifted across the autumn air, smooth as velvet laced with smoke. Her orange eyes, like embers hidden beneath glass, widened with recognition. A faint color rose to her cheeks—playful, teasing—as if she'd just stumbled upon something amusing.
"Ha! Trevus!~" she called, her voice lifting in lilting mockery. "And here I was thinking you were the only soul bold enough to wander into my farm and spoil my noon."
Mina's steps faltered. Ashe blinked.
Both pairs of young eyes shifted instantly, almost accusingly, toward Trevus.
"...Bold enough, huh?" Mina muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes. "She said that in a kinda flirty, didn't she?"
Ashe crossed his arms, expression tightening in mock seriousness. "Suspicious. Extremely suspicious. Maybe the chest isn't the only delivery Trevus has been making here."
"Wha—hey!" Trevus nearly choked, the occult chest in his arms jostling slightly as he fumbled for words. His face reddened almost as much as Jill's, though his was far from intentional. "Don't look at me like that. It's not—! She's just—!"
Mina leaned toward Ashe, whispering just loud enough for Trevus to hear. "What do you think? Secret farm girlfriend? Or maybe… A dark pact with the pumpkin witch?"
Ashe put on an exaggerated thinking pose. "Hmm. Judging by his face turning tomato-red, I'd say both are equally likely."
"You two—!" Trevus barked, his voice breaking halfway through, which only made their suspicion worse.
Meanwhile, Jill continued to watch, her smile curving sharper as though she found their antics entertaining. She set her newspaper neatly onto her lap and tapped one finger idly against it, her gaze lingering on Trevus as if she were savoring his fluster.
"So," Jill purred, ignoring Mina and Ashe entirely. "Did you come to play, Trevus, or are you finally here to give me what I asked for?"
The air seemed to tighten around them at those words. Mina's playful smirk faltered, her gaze flicking toward the chest in Trevus's hands. Ashe's brows knit as he processed the implication.
So she really was waiting for him…
Trevus straightened his back, forcing a cough to clear his throat. "Business, Jill. That's all this is." His voice firmed, though his ears still burned pink. "Don't make it sound like something else."
"Fufu~" Jill's chuckle was low, her hat's shadow sliding over her face once more. "Oh, Trevus. You always say that."
Mina and Ashe exchanged looks again. Their suspicions only grew.
The farmhouse creaked as Jill swung open the door, gesturing languidly for them to step inside. The air was cooler here, carrying the faint earthy scent of tilled soil and something sweet—too sweet—like overripe fruit left in a sealed jar.
"Come in, come in," Jill said with a singsong lilt, her boots tapping on the wooden floor as she sauntered ahead. "Don't mind the mess. My helpers aren't much for tidying."
Mina's eyes darted about. The walls were lined with dried herbs and strange jars suspended in glowing liquid, the kind of things one might see in an apothecary—or a witch's den.
Jill's gaze flicked toward the two teenagers trailing after Trevus. Her smile thinned, a line of mock amusement curling her lips. "And what am I to do with you brats?"
Before either Mina or Ashe could protest, Jill bent down and with a flick of her wrist produced—of all things—a wooden shape sorter box, its little colorful blocks tumbling inside with a clatter. She plopped it onto the low table in front of them like one might to a pair of toddlers.
"Here. Keep yourselves entertained while the grown-ups talk."
Both teens froze.
"…She did not just…" Mina's jaw dropped, her finger pointing at the ridiculous toy as if it were cursed.
Ashe stared in disbelief. "Is… is this a joke? Where's the badass farmer with a scythe over her shoulder and fire in her eyes? Instead we get…" He motioned helplessly at the wooden box. "This."
Jill only chuckled, already turning her back on them. "If you're clever enough, you'll figure out where the triangle goes." Her tone dripped with mockery as she disappeared into the adjoining dining room with Trevus.
Mina sank onto the couch, crossing her arms with a scowl. "She's prickly. I don't like her."
"…And she's ignoring us," Ashe muttered, reluctantly poking the shape sorter block in his hand. The block clicked uselessly against the square hole. "Wow. Amazing. Truly the test of prodigies."
From the dining room, muffled voices carried just enough to keep the two teens frustrated.
The sound of wood scraping—the occult chest sliding across the polished table.
Trevus's voice was steady, but sharp. "Here. What you asked for. Now… the information. Don't play games with me, Jill."
There was the faintest pause, then Jill's low chuckle filtered through the doorway, smooth and velvety.
"Oh, Trevus. You wound me. Do I ever go back on my word?"
"Yes." Trevus said with a straight face.
"Mm… true." Jill's laughter followed, a sound like bells muffled under cloth. "But this time, I've got exactly what you want. Information. Eight guilds, Trevus. Eight. I broker with them all. Little secrets, big ones—sometimes too big to be left unattended. Do you understand what that means?"
Trevus leaned forward, voice dropping lower, the tension creeping even into Mina's ears though she only caught fragments. "It means influence. If we can pry their strings, Tropico Guild's dominance won't just be idle anymore…"
Ashe perked up, curiosity sparking in his silver eyes. "Guild secrets? She's an information broker?"
Mina grumbled, pulling the toy block out of Ashe's hand. "Sounds like she's also a pain in the ass. I don't trust her. Anyone who makes golems with pumpkin heads and mocks kids with shape toys is definitely evil."
"You just don't like pumpkins."
"I don't like her."
Back in the dining room, Jill's voice sharpened, her tone shifting from playful to calculating.
"You'll get your guild's leverage, Trevus. But remember…" She tapped the chest with a black-nailed finger. "Nothing comes free. That box will serve me well. What's sealed inside may be old, may even be forgotten by most—but it will amuse me."
Trevus's jaw tightened. He didn't like her wording, not one bit.
Jill leaned back in her chair, arms folding as her orange-glinting eyes lingered on Trevus.
"So… what do you think, hm? Do you believe this little morsel of mine is good enough?" Her lips curved into a wry smile, but there was something tentative beneath it. "I can't help but feel… I'm a little short on my end."
Trevus exhaled through his nose, his fingers drumming once against the table. "No. This will do."
The words came out clipped, decisive.
Jill froze mid-motion, her expression twitching as if his agreement had caught her off guard. A faint laugh bubbled up, shaky at first. "U–uh, right, right. Silly me! Let me just… ah, let me write it down before my memory flies off into the field."
"Of course you 'forgot,'" Trevus muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Hush." Jill winked as she plucked a quill from a nearby jar and set parchment flat on the table. The quill danced across the surface, her wrist flicking gracefully as line after line of spidery script filled the page. Not one, but two sheets.
When she finally slid them across the table, the faint scent of ink mingled with the farmhouse air.
"There," she said, her grin sharp, but her voice softened in a strange sincerity. "This will serve Captain Ferris quite nicely, don't you think? Eight guilds' whispers, their little cracks in the armor. Enough to tug some threads loose."
Trevus picked up the papers, scanning quickly before folding them into his inner coat pocket.
Jill tilted her head then, resting her chin on her palm as her eyes narrowed. "But tell me something, Trevus. Why is this even necessary? Why pull strings, gather influence, play all these subtle games? The Tropico Guild is already the top guild in the world. That's not rumor—that's fact. Everyone bows to the bird that soars highest."
Her words carried no malice, only genuine curiosity laced with the bite of irony.
Trevus's gaze darkened. He clasped his hands together, leaning forward so the candlelight shadowed his features. "It isn't as simple as that, Jill. Not out here."
"…Out here?"
"The Wild Vein's Route." His voice was steady, resolute. "The guild's reach doesn't extend cleanly into this territory. In truth, all we have here is one fragile foothold—Western Outpost III. That's where Mina, Ashe, and I are stationed. That outpost isn't like Tropico's other strongholds, with walls of stone, towers of steel, or sprawling networks. It's barely more than a collection of barracks and offices with a banner pinned to it."
Jill tapped her nail against the table, listening in silence.
Trevus continued, his tone carrying a faint weight that even Mina and Ashe, eavesdropping beyond the door, could feel.
"It's the only piece of Tropico Guild ground in the Wild Veins. If we lose it, we lose the route. And if we lose the route… then all the merchant blood and mana flowing through these routes will belong to someone else. Not us."
Jill's smile faltered at that. For the first time, she seemed to sober, her gaze flicking toward the window where the farmlands stretched endlessly, golden and green under the sun.
"…So that's what this is about," she murmured.
She let the words hang, rolling them over like seeds in her palm.
"A single outpost. Western III."
"How long ago was it formed?"
"Roughly seven years," Trevus replied without hesitation. "When Captain Ferris was assigned here. He was tasked to establish a stronghold in the Wild Vein's Route, but… this was all he could plant."
Jill leaned back slowly, rocking her chair until it creaked against the wooden floor. Her eyes narrowed to slits, that sharp orange glint now burning with a quiet calculation.
"…Eight years, and still just a single outpost." She exhaled, her lips curling back into a faint smile. "Interesting."
"I guess that concludes our trade." Trevus's tone was final, his chair scraping as he stood, the papers tucked neatly inside his coat.
"Aw, going so soon?~" Jill's voice lilted with a mock sweetness, her chin resting in her palm as she leaned forward over the table. "And here I thought I'd keep you for tea, maybe a stroll through my fields. But no… duty always tugs harder than I do."
Her smile was coy, teasing, but there was no mistaking the way her eyes softened on Trevus, like she was measuring the distance between what she wanted to say and what she could never allow herself to. Still, she released him with a flutter of her hand, almost shooing. "Go then. Before I tempt you into something regrettable."
Trevus let out a quiet sigh and gave a stiff nod before stepping back toward the living room.
Inside, Mina and Ashe had clearly lost track of time. The shape sorter Jill had tossed them earlier lay between them on the rug, the wooden blocks clicking and clattering as the two teens tried, for the tenth time, to shove the wrong piece into the wrong hole.
"Ugh, this stupid thing—" Mina groaned, trying to jam a star-shaped block into a circle hole with all the subtlety of a hammer. "Why doesn't it fit?!"
"Because it's not a circle, idiot." Ashe yanked the block away, sliding the star into its proper slot. "See? Easy."
"Hey! I almost had it," Mina puffed her cheeks, arms crossing.
"You almost broke it."
They were bickering still when Trevus's shadow fell over them. He stopped, staring. "...What are you two doing?"
Both Mina and Ashe froze mid-motion, then slowly turned their heads toward him, caught like children sneaking sweets from the jar.
Before either could answer, Jill strolled in behind Trevus, her eyes catching the sight. Her laughter rang out like a bell, low and amused. "Oh my. I didn't know you were bringing toddlers, Trevus. I thought you said they were teenagers."
Ashe's eye twitched dangerously, his fist tightening around one of the blocks. "Toddlers?!"
Mina gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth in mock scandal. "Oh no, Ashe. She called us babies."
"I heard her," Ashe hissed, cheeks heating.
Mina leaned close to him, grinning ear to ear. "Are you gonna cry, little Ashe? Wah, wah~"
"I'm not—!" Ashe choked back the retort, realizing Jill was watching with her smug grin. His pride cracked like thin glass.
Trevus rubbed his forehead, exhaling a sigh that carried both weariness and apology. "Jill… lighten up. They're part of my party, not… tagalongs."
"Mm." Jill tilted her head, her orange eyes flashing in amusement. "If you say so. But honestly, Trevus, they look more like apprentices than partners. And apprentices… need their fair share of mocking."
Mina stuck her tongue out, whispering under her breath, "Crazy witch…"
Jill smirked. "I heard that."
Mina's whole body stiffened.
Trevus shook his head, gently ushering the two teens toward the door. "Come on. We've lingered long enough."
Outside, the air was cooler, the sunlight mellow against the farmlands. The pumpkin-headed golems still wandered dutifully in the fields, waving once more as they passed.
Behind them, Jill stood on her porch, leaning against the doorframe, her hat tilted low but her gaze fixed only on Trevus. Her lips curved into a secretive smile as she called out,
"Do visit again, won't you, Trevus? Don't keep me waiting too long."
Her voice carried a lilting edge, soft as a thread of silk yet heavy with something unspoken.
Ashe and Mina exchanged another suspicious glance, both muttering under their breath at the same time:
"…They definitely have a thing."
The dirt road stretched ahead of them, painted gold by the sinking sun. Crows cawed lazily over the fields while the autumn wind carried with it the faint smell of cut hay and tilled earth. Their shadows stretched long behind them—Trevus, calm as stone, carrying himself with that practiced B-rank ease, and behind him, Mina and Ashe exchanging whispers like conspirators.
Mina, of course, broke the silence first.
"So…" She leaned forward, eyes narrowing mischievously. "Do you like Jill?"
Ashe's jaw slackened. Mina! He wanted to strangle her for being so blunt, but Trevus didn't flinch. His face didn't redden, his eyes didn't shift away. He simply answered with a stoic, unwavering:
"Yes."
Mina blinked. "H-huh?"
Even Ashe stumbled. "Wait—seriously? That's it? No denial? No excuses? You're just… admitting it?"
"Yes."
The two teens stared at him in disbelief. Mina's voice cracked, louder than she intended. "Whaaat?! You—You actually like that pumpkin freak lady?!"
"Mina," Trevus said flatly, as though scolding a child, "Her name is Jill Kilmann."
Mina waved her arms around wildly. "Yeah, I know her name! But—like—she literally mocked us with a baby toy! And her scarecrow monsters give me nightmares! You're telling me you… you like that?"
"Affirmative."
Mina clutched her head, groaning as though her brain might melt out of her ears. "Unbelievable."
Meanwhile, Ashe pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to piece it together. "Okay, but—seriously—how? Why is she so clingy with you? Why does she only ever soften up when you're around? And… why does she hate us?"
The questions poured out rapid-fire, Mina nodding furiously at each one.
"Yes! Exactly! Why does she hate me the most, huh? What did I ever do to her?!" Mina stomped on the dirt road like it personally offended her.
Trevus didn't answer. He didn't even slow his stride. His silence felt like a heavy wall slamming down between them. Finally, with the patience of a man tired of dealing with two overeager pups, he sighed.
"That's too many questions," Trevus said. "I'll answer one."
The teens groaned in unison.
"Then… how did you even meet her?" Ashe asked.
Trevus kept his eyes on the horizon, voice steady as always.
"To be honest, it was the same year you two were introduced to the outpost. During the Harvest Festival. Captain Ferris once told me that the harvests of a particular farmer—Jill Kilmann—were top notch. The problem was, not a lot bought from her, she had no big trade partner. Not because of her crops, but because of… her personality & rumors."
"Personality?" Mina scoffed, flailing her arms. "Try 'insufferable witch with pumpkin slaves'."
Ashe jabbed her side with his elbow. "Shh! Let him finish."
Trevus continued as though he hadn't heard. "Naturally, Captain Ferris didn't want to deal with her. So he sent me to broker with her during the festival. That trade agreement opened the way for steady exchanges between her farm and our outpost. She provides the crops, we provide protection and coin. Simple."
Ashe hummed, considering it. "So basically… business partners at first."
Mina crossed her arms, pouting. "Business partners don't look at each other with sparkly eyes, Ashe."
"Sparkly—what?" Ashe almost tripped.
"You didn't see her face when she saw Trevus?!" Mina threw her hands in the air, scandalized. "Like, she was seconds away from swooning into his arms!~"
"Mina…" Trevus warned, his voice edged with fatigue.
"What? I'm just saying the truth, it's what happened~"
Ashe hid a laugh behind his hand, watching Trevus's jaw tighten ever so slightly. He's not denying it though…
The three continued down the road, the outpost's wooden palisades faintly visible now against the orange-tinted sky. Yet the air still buzzed thick with curiosity, suspicion, and Mina's endless indignation.
Far from the golden fields and warm chatter of the outpost, silence reigned.
A hollow chamber lay buried beneath the earth, its walls carved from dark stone and marked with faded glyphs of forgotten ages. The place smelled of damp soil and old incense, the kind that clung to the lungs like smoke. Torches sputtered along the walls, their flames bending unnaturally as if wary of what stood at the center of the room.
There, in the middle of this tomb-like chamber, Jill Kilmann stood.
The small violet chest rested in her arms like an infant, its eastern seals glowing faintly, resisting her touch. Yet Jill's smirk never faltered. Her gloved fingers brushed the wrappings delicately—then tugged.
One by one, the seals cracked, parchment curling into ash as faint whispers escaped the chest. The moment the last seal dissolved, an oppressive wave of mana erupted outward, heavy and suffocating, pressing against the chamber walls as though the artifact inside wished to shatter them.
Jill's eyes gleamed, twin amber flares in the dark.
"Don't squirm now," she murmured, voice sweet as poison.
Mana poured from the chest like a storm, but Jill raised her hand, her aura unfurling like an ocean tide. Unlike most, she didn't flinch. She met the artifact's resistance head-on, a surge of spiritual warding coursing through her veins. Her trait as a Surge made her near-limitless—mana spilling out of her like a river with no end.
The clash began.
She thrust her hand forward, wrapping her fingers around the artifact without hesitation. The chest dropped to the stone floor, forgotten, its wood splintering from the recoil of energies. The artifact pulsed violently, its black shell lashing with shrieks that weren't sound but pressure in the skull, a psychic keening that rattled the torches.
Jill only laughed.
"Louder," she whispered, tightening her grip, "I want to hear you scream."
Her mana swirled and condensed into her fist, a torrent of raw power pressing down on the artifact's writhing will. Sparks of purple-black mana arced around her arm, crawling across the chamber floor like lightning. The artifact resisted with claws unseen, trying to devour her mana, to claw its way into her pathways.
But there were no cracks in Jill's resolve.
The pressure built until stone dust rained from the ceiling. Her jaw clenched, but her smirk only deepened. I will not yield. You will.
At last, the shell of the artifact fractured, spiderweb cracks spreading under her hand. Then—shatter.
The blackened husk crumbled away, falling like charred petals to the floor, and from within emerged its true form:
A spearhead, long and sleek, forged from violet crystal that gleamed like liquid dusk. Its base was bound to an odd construct—an eastern death whistle, carved from bone and etched with sigils. Together, they pulsed as one, the whistle letting out a faint, hollow shriek as airless as a phantom's breath.
Jill's eyes widened in triumph. Her lips curled into a grin that was almost feral.
"Finally…" she exhaled, the word trembling with excitement, "…at long last…"
Her fingers caressed the spearhead, feeling its shiver of life as it responded to her mana, already bending to her dominance.
"…an Adapting Piece."
The chamber darkened, the torches dimming as though the artifact drank in the light itself. Jill's shadow stretched unnaturally across the floor, curling, twisting like roots.
Her smile sharpened, mischief and hunger blending into something dangerous.
"Now…" she whispered to the tomb walls, to the stone that trembled, to the future that awaited.
"…let's get to experimenting."