The Adventurer's Guild in Brindleport was already alive with noise when Nyra Bellwool pushed open the heavy oak doors. Her patched-up travel dress swished as she walked, ribbons on her sleeves fluttering with each step. A small satchel swung against her hip, stuffed with sewing tools, scraps of fabric, and a few little plush creatures tied securely to the back.
Following close behind came Button — a towering teddy bear with glowing green button eyes and neatly stitched seams. On his back he carried a large, patchwork chest, its reinforced seams a testament to Nyra's meticulous handiwork. His padded feet made almost no sound as they crossed the polished guild floor.
As they neared the crowded job board, Button slowed, tilting his massive head upward toward a single sheet pinned high above the others — stamped with a glaring crimson seal. His button eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the subtle shift in his stance saying more than words could. Nyra didn't need him to speak; she knew that look.
"Oh, you want that one?" she whispered.
Button gave the smallest nod, shoulders squaring, a deliberate point of one giant paw toward the paper as if to say, That one. Now.
Nyra sighed. "That's a Danger-Class quest, Button. You know the guild's going to fuss."
He straightened even more, arms folding across his plush chest in that stubborn way he had, his whole frame going still except for the slight, deliberate tilt of his head to one side — the unmistakable 'I'm waiting' gesture she knew all too well. His button eyes glinted faintly in the lamplight, and if he'd had a mouth, she was certain it would be smirking.
"You just want an excuse to lift me up there again, don't you?" she muttered, her voice caught between accusation and fond amusement.
Button didn't so much as twitch, but the faintest forward tilt of his head — almost imperceptible — was all the confirmation she needed. She could practically feel his silent yes radiating at her.
Nyra exhaled a long-suffering sigh that didn't hide her smile. "Fine, fine. But this is the last time today you get to play 'crane' with me."
With a resigned shake of her head, she turned toward the desk, still clutching the safer, standard job she'd picked out earlier. Yet she could feel Button's unblinking gaze drilling into her back, an invisible tether pulling her toward that crimson-stamped notice. He stayed planted at the board, huge and immovable, like he might bodyguard the posting until she claimed it.
A fresh-faced clerk, clearly new, glanced up from his ledger. His eyes went round at the sight of Button, his hand frozen mid-dip into the inkwell. He blinked once, twice, then straightened abruptly as if suddenly aware he was gawking.
"Uh… good morning. Can I… help you?"
Nyra tossed Button a side-eye, half warning, half indulgence. His big plush frame was still looming behind her like a silent, stubborn shadow. She stepped forward, setting the crimson-stamped posting on the counter with deliberate care. "I'd like to take this one."
The clerk's gaze flicked between her cheerful face, the bright red seal on the paper, and the massive teddy bear standing guard behind her. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Danger-Class… are you sure?"
Nyra nodded lightly, her smile unwavering, but there was a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Absolutely." She tipped her head toward Button, who was now standing so straight and still he might have been carved from enchanted oak. "He insists."
The clerk's gaze darted to the towering bear once more. Button shifted his weight ever so slightly, squared his shoulders, and leaned forward just enough to loom without actually moving toward the counter. It wasn't aggressive—just an unspoken Well? Are you going to give us the quest or not?
The young man blinked rapidly, a nervous laugh catching in his throat. "Right… I'll, uh, just need to register this…" He fumbled for his ledger, glancing at Button like someone who wasn't entirely convinced the giant plush wouldn't hop the counter if paperwork took too long.
Before the clerk could finish, a booming voice echoed from the hall. "Nyra!"
Several heads turned. A tall axe-wielding adventurer strode over with a grin that split his weathered face. "Back in town already? What's this I hear about you going for a Danger-Class?"
Nyra opened her mouth to respond, but he swept her into a bear hug so tight her feet left the floor. Button's eyes flashed red. In one smooth motion, he plucked her from the man's arms, holding her against his chest like a child's doll, the protective embrace looking almost ceremonial. The adventurer raised his hands in surrender, laughing. "Still protective as ever. I swear he glares more every time I see him."
Before Nyra could say anything, a second adventurer—a tall woman with a shock of red hair—darted in and wrapped her arms around Nyra from the side. Button's head swiveled slowly toward her like the turn of an ominous clockwork guardian. She froze mid-hug, hands lifting in mock innocence. "What? I'm just saying hello."
A robed mage sidled up next, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Danger-Class, huh? You're serious?"
"Yes," Nyra replied with a small smile, adjusting her satchel. "It's just a job."
One of the older guild members snorted, leaning on the counter. "A job most people have the sense to avoid."
A younger thief grinned as he edged closer, clearly tempted to join the hugging contest. Button's massive paw lowered ever so slightly, not touching but enough to create an invisible do not cross barrier. The thief smirked, leaning in just a fraction more—
—which was when the satchel at Nyra's hip gave a suspicious rustle. The three plushies, clipped to the outside like harmless travel mascots, all seemed to rouse at once. Biscuit's stitched wings twitched, his tiny button eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce. Puff's beady gaze flared with an inner ember, and Sprout swayed, a vine tip curling in lazy warning.
With a delighted little squeak, the fire slime plush spat a golf‑ball‑sized fireball that zipped across the gap. It landed harmlessly at the thief's feet but burst in a harmless whoomph of heat and smoke, enough to singe the edges of his bootlaces.
The thief froze mid‑lean, his eyes widening as he took a full step back. "Wha—They're alive?! Those are alive?!" His gaze darted between the blinking button eyes and Nyra's calm smile, disbelief etched on his face.
He yelped and hopped backward again, nearly tripping over a bench. "Alright, alright! I get it! The toys bite back!"
That broke the crowd into open laughter. Even the red‑haired adventurer clapped his hands, wheezing. "Oh, I like them. I really like them."
Nyra only grinned, patting Button's arm affectionately. "He's a softie. The rest of them… well, they're a little more direct. As long as you don't try to hug me… then you're on your own."
The laughter and chatter lingered for a while before the group began to disperse, leaving Nyra at the counter to finish the paperwork. The clerk finally slid the signed quest sheet across to her. "There you go. Location's three days' travel northeast. Roads aren't too bad this time of year, but you'll be passing through forest territory."
Nyra tucked the paper carefully into her satchel. "Three days isn't bad. Plenty of time to sew on the road."
Button glanced toward the tall windows and then down at her, his unblinking stare clearly asking if they could go now. "Yes, yes," she muttered with a smile. "We'll leave soon."
Within the hour, they were weaving their way through the bustling marketplace. Bright awnings in jewel tones flapped in the breeze above wooden stalls, each one spilling over with goods: baskets of glossy red apples and spiky green durians, strings of smoked sausages, bolts of fabric dyed in rich indigos and saffron yellows. The air was thick with the mingled scents of fresh bread, sweet honey, and sizzling street food.
Nyra stopped at a thread seller's stall, happily sorting through spools while Button stood behind her like a sentinel. The old woman running the stall beamed at Nyra and slipped an extra length of silk thread into her basket "for luck."
At the bakery stall, the baker's apprentice offered Nyra a warm roll straight from the oven. Before she could take a bite, Puff popped his head out and tried to claim it, earning a laugh from nearby shoppers. Sprout, dangling lazily from her bag, made a half‑hearted grab for a hanging bunch of herbs as they passed an apothecary.
Several townsfolk waved and called out her name; a group of children ran up to try and hug Button. This time he crouched slightly so they could pat his soft arms—though his eyes flicked toward Nyra every few seconds as if to check she was safe. One bold boy reached for Biscuit, only for the little manticore to flap his stitched wings and let out a tiny growl, sending the boy squealing back to his friends in delighted fright.
By mid-afternoon, the bustle of Brindleport was behind them. The stone-paved streets gave way to dirt roads, the salty tang of the harbor air replaced by the crisp scent of open fields. Nyra adjusted the strap of her satchel, glancing up at the clear sky. The spring sun poured down in a gentle warmth, and a cool breeze carried with it the distant chime of Brindleport's harbor bells. "Perfect weather for a long walk. Let's hope it holds," she said lightly.
Button trudged beside her, each heavy footfall muffled by the dirt road. Then, without warning, his massive plush arms scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a doll. Nyra let out a startled yelp, clutching at his stitched shoulders. "Button! What are you—"
He simply adjusted his grip, holding her securely against his chest, button eyes fixed on the road ahead as if this were the most logical thing in the world.
Nyra huffed, cheeks puffing. "You could have asked, you know." But there was no malice in her tone—only reluctant amusement. "If this turns into one of those jobs where we get chased halfway home, I'm blaming you."
Button's only reply was a slow, unblinking blink, his soft steps carrying them effortlessly forward. She sighed, settling in with a resigned smile.
They passed the last weathered signpost marking Brindleport's outskirts, the rooftops shrinking behind them as the dirt road stretched ahead through rippling fields of early wheat and tiny white wildflowers. The crimson quest sheet weighed lightly in her satchel, a promise of adventure—and perhaps just a little bit of chaos—waiting three days ahead.