"You've got to be kidding me," a young man scoffed. He had short, messy hair the color of rusted iron, and his uniform jacket hung half-open as if he couldn't be bothered to wear it properly.
A blade rested across his back, the hilt decorated with gaudy charms that jingled when he moved.
"They always send us the useless ones," he muttered, arms crossed. His eyes looked over at Riven, unimpressed.
Arixa's eye twitched sharply. She stepped forward, fists clenched at her sides. "Did you just call him useless? My father is stronger than..."
"Father?" the man cut in, laughing harshly. "That scrawny bastard? Don't make me laugh. I could be older than him myself. No way he's your old man."
Riven tensed, jaw tightening, but before he could respond, Arixa flared up. "Don't you dare speak of Father that way!"
"Or what?" the hothead leaned in with a smirk. "You'll yap at me until I drop dead? Face it, kid. They dumped you here because no one else wanted the rejects. And if this is your 'Father'," he jabbed a thumb at Riven, sneering, "then I pity you."
Arixa's eyes gleamed dangerously, her brows twitching faintly as if she wanted to tear his throat out right then and there. Riven laid a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but the air suddenly shifted.
The sound of boots echoed across the hall.
The hothead turned his head lazily. "What now..."
He didn't finish.
A black scabbard slammed into his gut with a heavy thud. The blow doubled him over instantly, air kicked out from his lungs as he collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach.
Groaning, he looked up just in time to see her.
The Branch Master stood over him, sword still sheathed, her violet eye gleaming beneath her cracked golden skull eyepatch. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt as though the strike had taken no effort at all.
"Pathetic," she said flatly. Her voice echoed easily across the chamber, silencing the surrounding hunters. "If you've got time to insult your comrades, then you've got time to train harder. Until then, shut your mouth."
The hothead wheezed, coughing hard, but he didn't dare respond.
Her gaze shifted, landing squarely on Riven. For a moment, the noise of the guild vanished, the air itself thickening. Her violet eye narrowed, sharp as a blade.
Then she spoke.
"I am Selvara Deyne. Branch Master of Argent Fang, Seventh Division. You're under my command now."
"Welcome to my branch."
"And this obnoxious fellow," she said, nodding to the groaning hunter at her boots, "is Kellan Harrow. Apologies for his manners. He..." her mouth tightened for the briefest second, "...is blunt because he's soft where it counts. Don't let him fool you; he's kinder than he looks."
A few of the hunters smirked. Kellan's face flushed a deep red beneath his breathless wheeze.
Selvara's gaze sharpened, and she leveled it at Riven and Arixa. "This work is dangerous. We lose people because they were not ready, because they thought pride could replace strength. I will not have new recruits die because someone was too quick with insults and too slow with skill. Train. Learn. Do not make me regret giving you this post."
Arixa straightened, chin up, and Riven felt his pulse skip at the force behind the words. The Branch Master's tone left no room for argument.
Kellan croaked from the floor, clutching his midsection. "I didn't... I never said any of that," he managed weakly, trying for indignation but sounding like a child.
Selvara's hand moved before he finished. The flat of her scabbard landed against his side, not enough to maim but enough to fold him into himself. He gasped, another hand finding his stomach, and the hall's chatter fell into a hush.
"You said it," Selvara said quietly, almost gentle, "and you'll hold your tongue until you can back it up with action." She let the scabbard rest against his shoulder as she stepped around him, boots soft and deliberate. "If you want to be the branch's conscience, be the first to prove you deserve the right to speak."
Kellan could only wheeze, his pride and pain tangled on his face.
Selvara turned then, regarding Riven with an unreadable look. "We do not tolerate weakness born of mockery. We do not coddle cowardice. Learn the difference between insolence and honesty, and you will do fine here."
Arixa gave a small, pleased nod, and Riven did as well.
Selvara adjusted the strap of her sword as she walked through the guild halls toward her office.
Suddenly, a voice called out from the side.
"Seems like someone went out to give the new recruits a warm welcome," said the man with blue hair, glasses glinting in the light as he leaned casually against the wall.
Selvara's violet eye flicked toward him. "Caius," she said nonchalantly.
"Ah, yes, I did. It's my responsibility, after all," she continued, voice flat but calm. "I also had to teach a certain someone a little lesson."
Caius chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. "So like you. Always direct. And what did you think of them? Do our rookies show promise?"
Selvara allowed herself the barest hint of a smile, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. "They had a spark in their eye... Greenhorns always do... But something about them tells me they might be a little different."
Caius's grin widened. "Of course you can tell. That's why you're the Branch Master after all."
She paused mid-step, tilting her head slightly as though reconsidering something. "That said, it's important we keep our eyes on them."
Caius arched a brow, curiosity piqued. "And why is that?"
Without slowing her pace, Selvara continued walking past him, her boots silent on the stone floor. "Because my eye can't stop twitching around these two," she said lightly.
Caius blinked, eyes narrowing as he turned to gaze at Riven and Arixa standing in the hall, smiling slightly as he said, "You don't say."