Five days have passed since the battle with the Erosia, and Kael and his party have finally reached their base town Anvillia. This is the capital city of the iron state of Ferrous. The party's first thought was to get to the mercenary guild in Anvil-Deep to meet the guild master in order to understand what was going on with Kael and the curse Erosia had put on him.
Few hours later they finally arrived at the guild, Ignis the War Golem pushed the heavy, iron-reinforced doors of the Mercenary Guild hall apart rather than simply opening them.
The guild hall was a huge, smokey space filled with the Kingdom's most ruthless killers. It smelt like stale lager, roasted boar, and rusted chainmail. Dozens of mercenaries sat huddled over wooden tables, arm wrestling, counting bounties, or nursing hangovers.
When the towering silhouette of Commander Kaelen walked through the doorway, the entire hall fell silent. A veteran with a lost eye paused mid-drink, his tankard hovering near his mouth. A half-orc sharpening a battleaxe paused scraping the whetstone.
Kaelen looked terrible. His normally spotless armor was damaged and smeared in hardened muck. He was thoroughly saturated from head to toe, thanks to Ignis' water cannon back in the market. He was clutching his gigantic greatsword, Diplomacy, like a walking stick, and he had a tight, agonizing frown frozen on his face as he actively resisted the temptation to look at anyone.
For three seconds, nothing moved.
The veteran with the lost eye slammed his tankard down. "By the forge... he is returned. He's returned early!"
The hall erupted.
"He actually did it!" someone roared from the back.
"Three days! It only took the Ironclad three days to breach the Spire!"
"Drinks are on the house! The Demon Queen is dead!"
A chorus of cheers and the clattering of metal mugs against wooden tables echoed through the cavernous room. The mercenaries assumed Kaelen's grim, dripping-wet demeanor was just his usual, terrifying stoicism after a brutal, hard-fought victory. To them, the water dripping from his visor wasn't the result of a humiliating public incident; it was the sweat of a champion.
"Look at him," a rookie whispered in awe.
"He didn't even bother to wipe the demon-blood off his boots." (It was cabbage juice, but Kaelen wasn't going to correct him).
Kaelen gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor tiles.
"Do not engage," he muttered to his party. "Tactical formation. Shield wall. Get me to the office."
"They think you won," Elara hissed, ducking behind Kaelen's massive pauldron as a drunk dwarf tried to throw a garland of garlic over her neck. "If you tell them you got cursed with a libido, they're going to riot!"
"I am aware, Bard," Kaelen growled, his voice tight.
Brother Oat stepped forward, gently but firmly pushing through the crowd of cheering mercenaries like a silent, muscular plow. Ignis took up the rear, his mechanical eyes scanning for threats, while Pud the cherub sat on Kaelen's wet shoulder, waving happily at the adoring crowd.
"Commander!" A scarred mercenary clapped Kaelen heavily on the shoulder.
"Tell us! Did she beg before you took her head?!" Kaelen flinched.
The pink HUD in his vision was still trying to reboot, flickering dangerously with error codes. He stared straight ahead. "Mission parameters... encountered unexpected resistance. Move."
He shoved past the mercenary and marched straight to the Quartermaster's desk at the back of the hall. The clerk behind the iron grill stood up immediately, saluting so hard he nearly bruised his own forehead.
"Sir! Welcome back, Commander! Shall I fetch the victory banners?"
"Negative," Kaelen barked, his voice echoing loudly enough to cut through the cheering hall. He leaned over the counter, leaving a puddle on the ledger. "I need an immediate debrief. Is Guildmaster Vance in her office?"
The clerk blinked, intimidated by Kaelen's intense, terrifying stare. "Y-Yes, sir! She's reviewing the quarterly casualty reports. But sir, procedure dictates you log the bounty—"
"Override procedure," Kaelen ordered, already turning toward the heavy steel door that led to the upper offices.
He didn't wait for permission. He marched up the iron spiral staircase, his heavy boots ringing against the metal with every step. Elara, Oat, and Ignis scrambled up behind him, leaving a hall full of confused, celebrating mercenaries in their wake.
"Well," Elara panted as they reached the landing outside Valka's door. "That went great. They think you're a god."
"They are about to find out I am a liability," Kaelen said grimly. He took a deep breath, trying to center his chaotic mind, completely unaware that the curse's timer was exactly three seconds away from resetting to "Scarred Authority Figures."
He raised a heavy, gauntleted fist and knocked once on the door.