Book 11: Chapter 12: Linda

Arriving once more at the familiar Mercenary Guild, Sif Hulan presented a world of difference from the disheveled figure at the Oak Barrel Tavern. Clad in respectable formal wear and with his appearance carefully groomed, Sif Hulan had pulled himself together, transforming back into the spirited young gentleman.

“Elves are bumpkins too! A good coat isn’t about being expensive, it’s about fitting properly!” Sif muttered discontentedly, occasionally tugging at his vest.

The formal wear itself was indeed elegant and respectable, crafted by Blue Mirror Outfitters in Baldur’s Gate, home to the city’s finest tailors. However, to save time, Qin Lun hadn’t had the tailor custom-make it for Sif. Instead, he’d spent money to buy a set originally tailored for another customer.

It wasn’t that the outfit looked bad. The original customer was middle-aged and had gained weight. Though the length was roughly similar, it inevitably differed on Sif’s thin, youthful frame. Simply put, it was too loose and ill-fitting.

Listening to Sif’s grumbling, Qin Lun, following behind him, merely rolled his eyes and ignored it completely. His time was more precious than gold; he couldn’t afford to waste it on such trivial matters.

“Look! That noble brat from Tethyr is back again!”

Having posted several quests at the Mercenary Guild within a single month, many mercenaries recognized this guild leader who sought to find his companions in the Death Lands.

“Does he still have money? I heard he hired the notorious Sand Wolf Mercenary Group last time and got cleaned out,” a rat-faced mercenary whispered to his companion in a corner of the Guild.

Mercenary groups operating along the Sword Coast generally valued their reputation. Groups like the Sand Wolves, who robbed Sif, weren’t proper mercenary outfits. They were likely a peripheral team of some evil organization, similar to the Zhentarim.

Back when Sif hired them, kind souls had tried to warn him. But the desperate young man had grabbed at any solution and paid the price, getting robbed outside the city.

Of course, the Sand Wolves had taken the money without resorting to killing him. This was partly Sif’s good fortune but also indicated the Sand Wolves didn’t want to completely burn their bridges.

“Dunno. It’s been over a month now. Maybe his family in Tethyr sent funds,” the slightly older companion next to him shrugged disinterestedly.

“Heheh, Leader, this kid’s dumb and loaded. Should we take the job? Just like those first few groups, circle the edges of the Death Lands and come back,” the rat-faced young mercenary urged his leader.

“Hmm, this time feels different. I have a feeling anyone taking this job now won’t have an easy time of it,” said the experienced mercenary leader meaningfully, nudging his chin. “Look at that silver-haired Elf behind the boy. That one doesn’t look like an easy mark!”

The rat-faced mercenary squinted and saw, indeed trailing Sif at a set distance, a silver-haired Elf with his hood up. The Elf carried a large cloth bundle on his back, the shape suggesting a massive longbow.

Additionally, a short sword hung at the Elf’s waist—typical Elven Ranger attire. The simple, worn leather armor, the sharp, knife-like gaze visible under the hood, and the constant alertness all signaled an experienced adventurer.

There were many large forests near Baldur’s Gate, and mercenary groups in the area sometimes hired Elven Rangers out on adventures, knowing this combat vocation was formidable.

While these two mercenaries murmured, others in the Guild’s reception hall were also covertly observing the pair. Naturally, compared to the familiar noble brat from Tethyr, most attention focused on Qin Lun, and many drew conclusions similar to those two mercenaries’.

Qin Lun calmly took in the undercurrents in the hall. Differing from plans made with the three Serial Killers, he’d ultimately decided to accompany Sif to the Mercenary Guild.

Firstly, he hadn’t exposed much in Umberlee’s Church underground sanctuary; both Mithril Arrows he shot had been retrieved. Others only knew he was an archer. Baldur’s Gate had hundreds, perhaps even a thousand archers. That alone wasn’t enough to pinpoint him.

Secondly, Sif repeatedly stressed that people at the Mercenary Guild knew him well, but going alone risked encountering more scoundrels and wasting time. Since Sif was a familiar face, Qin Lun’s status as an outsider would raise less suspicion. Thus, he decided to tag along.

His presence proved effective. Under his watchful eyes, many mercenaries whose opportunistic impulses stirred at the sight of Sif backed down. These were not genuinely interested in the task, only seeking to profit from the fool Sif.

“Ahem, Linda. I’ve come to post a commission,” Sif walked to the reception window of the Mercenary Guild, addressing a delicate-looking young girl behind the iron bars.

“Oh! It’s you, Mr. Sif! Are you alright?” The girl looked up from behind stacks of paperwork, pushing her heavy black-rimmed glasses up on her nose, her expression showing surprise and relief.

“I’m fine. Just ‘Sif’ is fine,” Sif replied with an awkward, embarrassed laugh.

“Mr. Sif, is it still the search mission in the Death Lands?” Linda sighed, her brow furrowed with concern as she advised, “I’m sorry, but your companions disappeared in the Death Lands over a month ago… you should give up. After what happened last time too, don’t waste gold hiring people you don’t know.”

“This time it’s different. My family sent me a few guards… but there are too few of them. I need some mercenary helpers,” Sif laughed dryly and moved aside from the window, revealing Qin Lun behind him.

“Oh? Well then, alright! But… this is the last time, okay? I won’t register for you again next time,” the girl scrutinized Qin Lun intently, her fine brows knitting slightly as she lowered her voice to speak seriously.

“Thank you! Thank you, Linda!” Sif readily agreed, his face beaming.

Qin Lun observed the girl named Linda carefully, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. The girl seemed quite ordinary – plainly dressed, her delicate natural beauty obscured somewhat by the large black-framed glasses that made her look a bit dowdy.

As soon as the pair finished registering the commission and stepped out of the Mercenary Guild building, a wave of hushed whispers broke out in the reception hall. Sif, it seemed, remained a favorite topic of conversation.

…

“Do you know that man?” asked a tall, hooded and cloaked figure standing in a corner of the hall to a shorter shadow beside him.

“Anyone at the Mercenary Guild knows him. He’s just a fool. Not the person you’re looking for,” rasped the smaller shadow, the voice sounding like a throat injury, answering casually.

“What about that silver-haired Elf behind him?” The taller cloaked figure sounded unwilling to let it go.

“That Elf looks unfamiliar. But Baldur’s Gate has too many outlander mercenaries; I couldn’t know them all,” the short shadow whispered. “Your Priest said this incident was likely caused by other forces within the city… that Tethyr boy has no connection to them, and he has no value to exploit either. The people around him aren’t worth suspecting.”

Their conversation faded, swallowed by the background noise of the hall. Qin Lun and Sif remained unaware they had just dodged a potential crisis.

Having walked some distance from the Mercenary Guild, Qin Lun inquired nonchalantly, “You know that girl Linda back there?”

“Yeah. Been there so many times, you get familiar. Linda is really kind. Back then, she warned me not to hire the Sand Wolves. Pity I was too desperate to listen.” Sif let out a huge sigh, as if dwelling on past mistakes.

“Hmm,” Qin Lun responded noncommittally. Suddenly, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He fell back two steps, tapped his toes, and in a single leap, vaulted onto the roof of a nearby house lining the street. Simultaneously, his right hand reached back and lifted the large cloth bundle.

Perched on the roof, Qin Lun’s gaze was sharp. He had already loosened the ties on the bundle, revealing a glimpse of the World Tree Longbow.

“What’s wrong?” Sif called out nervously. Yet, after all he’d endured, he didn’t freeze. He instinctively ducked beside the building, hiding his body beneath the eaves.

“We were being followed. But they’ve run off now,” Qin Lun watched a dark shadow vanish into an alley in the distance. A cold smirk touched his lips as he shouldered the bundle again and jumped down. “Let’s go. Back to the tavern. We need to leave Baldur’s Gate promptly.”

…

Just as Qin Lun and Sif headed towards the Oak Barrel Tavern, the young girl Linda at the Mercenary Guild finished handing over her work to another registrar and made her way to a room in the back hall of the Guild.

Inside the small room, an old Mage sat reading a book on a rattan chair. The Mage wore pristine white robes, a pointed wizard’s hat perched on his head. He looked vigorous despite his age, sporting a pure white beard that hung long over his chest. His hands held a thick tome of magic.

“Master!” Linda took off the large black-rimmed glasses that disguised her face, releasing her hair from its knot. Long, gold locks cascaded down like a waterfall. Despite her plain clothes, combined with her exceptionally refined and beautiful features, a breathtaking radiance seemed to momentarily illuminate the room as she revealed her true appearance.

“There you are, Linda!” The old Mage set his book down. Observing her relaxed expression, he asked with surprise, “What’s the matter? Something pleasant happened?”

“Not really. Just saw an interesting fool!” Linda giggled as she sat down opposite her Master and recounted Sif’s story in detail.

“Ah, I believe you mentioned him once before. That young noble is quite persistent,” the old Mage said, a smile touching his lips. “It seems judging by appearances is always unreliable. Though somewhat frivolous, he holds loyalty towards his companions.”

“Wait, are you thinking of helping him?” The Master suddenly realized, frowning slightly. “Linda, our lifespans are very long. Entangling ourselves too much with mortals only brings trouble for everyone.”

“Haha, Master, are you worried I’m falling for him?” Linda blinked mischievously and laughed, shaking her head. “You’re overthinking it. I just find him amusing.”

“Well, since he interests you so, why didn’t you help him straight away back then?” the Master inquired gently.

“Back then? He seemed no different from any other spoiled noble heir. I hadn’t seen this more interesting side of him, and besides, I disliked that follower of Loviatar,” Linda wrinkled her nose slightly, the image of a red-haired Female Knight appearing in her mind.

“But there’s no time for that now. You must accompany me back to Candlekeep in a fortnight,” the Master shook his head, intending to dissuade his disciple from any spontaneous plans. “Finding suitable mercenaries and preparing will take them at least a week. While the Death Lands aren’t far from Baldur’s Gate, adding in search time would make us miss our return to Candlekeep.”

“Master, what if I promise to be back in Baldur’s Gate within a fortnight?” A sly smile spread across Linda’s face. “You must remember, I’m a registrar at the Mercenary Guild. Finding a few interesting mercenaries? That’s the easiest thing.”

“Haha, aging does make one forgetful! Very well, if you insist on going, I won’t stop you.” The old Mage clapped a hand to his forehead, shaking his head with a chuckle before his expression turned serious. “But remember, you must return promptly. And you are absolutely forbidden to follow them deep into the heart of the Death Lands! That place is dangerous. Even I must tread with utmost caution.”

“Understood, Master!” Linda chimed with a silvery laugh. She put her glasses back on, coiled her hair up again, and pushed the door open, skipping out chanting happily, “One, two, one! Five, four, seven! Little Linda gets to go adventuring again!”

“Haha!” Watching his jubilant disciple skip away, the old Mage smiled warmly. The door closed gently by itself behind Linda, as if moved by an unseen breeze.

…

“Huh? Strange, did something move?” Not long after Linda left, a guild worker rounded a corner. He pushed open the door to the room the old Mage had occupied, only to see a space filled completely with rags and debris. Scratching his head, confused, he muttered, “Better find someone to clean out this storage closet soon. Must be full of rats by now.”