Morrigan POV
Knock knock
The sound echoed through the quiet hallway outside the guildmaster's office.
Morrigan stood straight, her posture habitual rather than forced, and spoke clearly.
"Guildmaster, it's Morrigan, of Witch Hunt."
There was a brief pause on the other side, followed by a familiar voice.
– Come in, the door's unlocked.
She reached for the handle and pushed the door open.
It creaked softly, the hinges protesting just enough to remind her how old the building was.
The room beyond was neat as always.
Papers stacked carefully, bookshelves lined with ledgers and contracts, and the guildmaster himself seated behind his desk with a calm expression.
"Thank you for coming today," the guildmaster said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
"It's no bother," Morrigan replied as she took a seat.
She crossed one leg over the other, back straight, eyes steady.
"May I ask why you called for me? I'd rather not waste either of our time."
The guildmaster gave a small, knowing smile.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached to the side, picked up a sealed envelope, placed it gently on the table between them, then slid it forward.
"Hmm… first, take a look at this."
Morrigan frowned slightly but said nothing.
She lifted the envelope carefully, turning it over in her hands.
The seal was intact.
Heavy paper.
Fine wax.
Official.
Her fingers broke the seal, and she removed the letter inside.
At first, her expression remained neutral, professional.
Her eyes moved steadily across the page, taking in the words one line at a time, but then they slowed; her brow furrowed, and her grip tightened just slightly.
By the time she reached the end, her eyes had widened, and her breathing had become noticeably slower.
"Guildmaster, is this… real?" she asked at last, voice low.
She looked up at him, disbelief plain on her face.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "The letter was delivered by a royal messenger this morning. We've verified the seal, the handwriting, and the authorisation. It's genuine."
Morrigan looked back down at the letter, then didn't read it again.
She simply stared at it.
"…That doesn't make sense," she said after a long moment. "Why would they ask for our help?"
"I don't know," the guildmaster admitted. "But whatever the case, it's a formal request."
He leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his hands together.
"Will you accept it?"
Morrigan didn't answer right away.
She studied his face, searching for something, hesitation, warning, reassurance, but the man before her was calm, almost resigned.
'Can I even refuse this?'
The thought came unbidden.
She had been an adventurer for a long time, longer than most, long enough to see parties rise and fall, long enough to bury friends, long enough to learn truths that younger adventurers still believed were just rumours.
One of the most important lessons she had learned over the span of her life was painfully simple.
Know when to bow your head.
There were times when strength didn't matter.
When experience didn't matter.
When rank didn't matter.
Times when refusal was not a choice.
Morrigan felt it now.
A pressure she hadn't felt in years.
Not fear, something colder, heavier.
This was one of those moments.
She closed her eyes briefly, then exhaled through her nose.
"…Fine. There's not much of a choice anyway," she said, opening her eyes again.
She folded the letter carefully and placed it back into the envelope.
"Just give me the details so I can share them with my party. I don't like leaving them in the dark."
The guildmaster smiled, relief flickering across his expression.
"A wise choice. Very well," he said, hands clasping lightly together.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
"So you just accepted?" Hannah asked, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Really?"
They were gathered in one of the rooms they had rented, familiar, cramped, and comfortable in a way no inn ever truly was.
Morrigan sat on the edge of the bed, arms resting on her knees, listening as Hannah paced back and forth.
"Hahh…" Morrigan sighed. "Dear, I already told you. I couldn't refuse."
She lifted her gaze to meet Hannah's.
"You know as well as I do what happens to those who refuse a royal request."
Hannah stopped pacing.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, jaw tight; she didn't argue, but her displeasure was obvious.
"Personally, I have no objections," Soni said lazily, sprawled across the bed with her hands behind her head. "Seems like it'll pay well."
"It's not always about the money, Soni!" Alice shouted, suddenly lunging forward and digging her fingers into Soni's sides.
"Hey—! Hey! Stop! Not there!" Soni shrieked, twisting and laughing as she tried to escape.
Alice didn't relent.
"Pay attention when we're talking about serious things!"
Their scuffle continued, entirely ignored by everyone else.
"Amber," Morrigan said calmly, shifting her attention to the hooded girl sitting quietly near the wall. "Do you have any complaints?"
Amber shook her head slightly, her hood dipping lower than usual.
Hannah sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"…So when do we start?"
"Tomorrow. We're to report to the royal palace at dawn. We'll be staying there for a week. Accommodation and food will be provided." She paused, then added, "All we need to do is guard our boss."
"Leader," Alice said, finally letting go of Soni. "I understand we have to take this job, but wouldn't Soren be included? She's registered as a party member."
"Thankfully, I discussed that with the Guildmaster, the request only specified 'the five members of Witch Hunt.' Soren should be free to do her own thing," Morrigan answered.
"Oh, right!" Soni said, springing upright. "Speaking of Soren, I heard she went into a dungeon this morning!"
Alice stiffened.
"They said it was the Goblin King's Nest!"
"She'll be fine. She's not weak," Hannah nodded thoughtfully.
"How are you so relaxed? Soren's our precious little newbie! We can't let her get hurt!" Alice shouted.
"Calm down," Morrigan said with a faint smile. "She's from Stellaris Academy. You don't get into that place by being ordinary."
Amber nodded subtly.
"There's no way that's true!" Alice insisted. "Not my frail little Soren!"
"Someone shut her up already," Hannah muttered.
Morrigan watched them with a soft smile.
Witch Hunt.
They had been together for years now.
Fought together.
Bled together.
Laughed together.
She couldn't imagine returning to the days when she travelled alone.
Never.
She loved her new family.
They had saved her.
And she had saved them.
She hoped, quietly, that this job would go smoothly.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
"…Holy shit."
The words slipped out of Hannah's mouth before she could stop herself.
Before them stood the royal palace, towering and radiant beneath the morning light.
White stone gleamed like polished marble, gold accents catching the sun in blinding flashes.
Even Morrigan felt her breath hitch.
As commoners, none of them had ever been this close to something so grand.
"Ahem," Morrigan cleared her throat. "Don't stare. If we look like country bumpkins, we'll be treated like them."
That snapped everyone out of it.
Their expressions hardened.
None of them would allow that.
"The princess will be waiting. Let's move."
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
"Princess, your guests have arrived."
– Let them in.
The voice that answered was calm, almost gentle, slipping through the thin cracks of the door like a quiet breeze.
There was no impatience in it, no irritation at being disturbed, only measured permission.
Only after receiving it did the attendant finally open the door and step aside.
The room that revealed itself to Witch Hunt was extravagant.
No, extravagant wasn't quite enough.
Everything inside spoke of wealth that had never needed to be questioned.
The carpets beneath their feet were thick and soft, dyed in rich colours that commoners like Morrigan had only ever seen from a distance.
The walls were lined with artwork, paintings by famous artists whose names were known even outside noble circles.
Sculptures carved by dwarven craftsmen stood proudly in the corners, each one so finely made that Morrigan felt she might damage them just by standing too close.
And yet…
Hollow.
That was the word that surfaced in Morrigan's mind as she slowly took it all in.
There was no cohesion.
No warmth.
No sign that the space belonged to a person rather than a title.
Beautiful dresses hung neatly along one side of the room, each one clearly expensive, clearly unused.
Intricate jewellery rested within open cases, gemstones catching the light, but none of it felt cherished.
It was all on display, but none of it felt lived with.
It was gorgeous.
And empty.
In the centre of the room, seated upon a plush sofa, was the princess herself.
She held a teacup delicately, lifting it to her lips with practised elegance.
Her red hair cascaded down her back like flowing fire, so vivid it almost seemed unreal.
Her eyes, deep orange, like polished gemstones, were focused and sharp despite her relaxed posture.
Her skin was pale and flawless, doll-like to the point that Morrigan briefly wondered if she was even real.
"Welcome, Witch Hunt."
The words were polite.
Professional.
And completely devoid of warmth.
There was no hostility in her tone, but no kindness either.
It was the voice of someone who had learned long ago how to keep others at arm's length.
Morrigan stepped forward and bowed, placing a hand over her chest.
"I greet you, Your Highness."
For just a moment, something flickered across Crusch's expression.
A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips before vanishing just as quickly.
"Come now," Crusch said. "Take a seat. We have much to discuss."
Morrigan nodded and led her party forward.
They seated themselves across from the princess, careful with their movements, acutely aware of where they were.
As Crusch lifted her teacup once more, Morrigan noticed the attendant still standing stiffly by the door.
Crusch noticed too.
Her eyes shifted toward him, the faintest crease forming between her brows.
"You may leave," Crusch said calmly.
"Your Highness," the man replied, bowing slightly, "I'm afraid I've been instructed to remain by your side."
Crusch paused, the teacup hovering just before her lips.
"By whom, may I ask?"
"I… can't say."
Her eyes narrowed, just a fraction.
"Was it by my Father?"
"I-I can't say," the man repeated, his voice faltering.
Crusch exhaled slowly and set her teacup down.
"I see," she said. "Then it was my brothers."
Her tone remained even, but the air in the room shifted.
"Then there is no reason for you to persist in your presence. My brothers hold no authority over me that exceeds my own. Our commands are equal. Correct?"
The attendant hesitated.
"…Yes, Your Highness."
"Then pray tell," Crusch continued, her voice sharpening, "why are you still lingering?"
She gestured vaguely in his direction.
"You are fouling my mood in front of these precious guests."
"But, Your Highness—"
"Excuse me," Crusch interrupted, her gaze cutting into him. "Where did you receive your training?"
The man blinked.
"Pardon?"
"Do not make me repeat myself," Crusch said coolly.
"…At the royal academy."
"I see…" Crusch murmured, her expression darkening slightly. "It seems our learning institutions still have much to learn if they are producing attendants as incompetent as you."
The words landed heavily.
The attendant remained silent, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable.
Morrigan watched the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
An attendant openly defying a royal was unthinkable.
And Crusch's composure was… frightening.
"If you continue to linger, I shall ensure you are removed from your post. Make your choice," Crusch said softly.
The man clenched his jaw.
"…I will take my leave now," he said at last, bowing deeply before retreating from the room.
The door closed behind him.
Only then did Morrigan realise she had been holding her breath.
"My apologies, Witch Hunt," Crusch said, turning her attention back to them. "I did not intend for you to witness such a scene."
She folded her hands neatly in her lap.
"But as you can see, there are many schemes currently taking place within the royal palace."
Morrigan pressed her lips together.
She had questions.
Many of them.
But looking at the woman before her, she wasn't sure which ones were safe to ask.
"You may speak," Crusch said suddenly, her gaze locking onto Morrigan. "I requested you here in good faith. I have no intention of ruining you."
Morrigan stiffened slightly.
"Your Highness…" she began, hesitating.
"Speak."
"…Why us? We are lowly adventurers. Only gold rank. I'm not certain we are the correct choice," Morrigan asked.
She disliked belittling her own profession, but here, before royalty, honesty felt safer than pride.
Crusch's eyes narrowed.
"Are you doubting my decision?"
"No, Your Highness, that's not—"
"Hm," Crusch interrupted. "I understand your curiosity."
She leaned back slightly.
"As you may know," she said calmly, "I am an illegitimate child."
The room went still.
Morrigan's breath caught in her throat.
Everyone knew.
No one spoke of it.
"And because of that," Crusch continued, "I have lost my right to inherit the throne."
She tapped the rim of her teacup lightly, a faint smile touching her lips.
"However, I am still treated as family."
Morrigan swallowed.
Royal family.
A curse disguised as blood.
"That," Crusch said, placing her teacup down with a soft clink, "is why I seek people I can trust. People without ties. Without ambitions beyond their duty."
Her gaze sharpened.
"So, will you do your job, Witch Hunt?"
————「❤︎」————