Chapter 39: An Unwanted Party

The next morning, by the time Keane got there, the staging area was already busy.

A few adventurers were checking their equipment near the walls, while two Guild staff members argued over a stack of documents at a long table. The place was busy as it was yesterday.

Rovan stood beside a map pinned to a wooden board. He glanced at Keane as he walked towards him, checked the paper in his hand, then looked toward the three people waiting across from him.

"Good. Everyone’s here." He said, tapping the map.

"This is the assigned gate, three hours east of the city. It’s a registered middle-section gate, surveyed repeatedly over the past year. The route is stable, the monster population is documented, and the Guild has a current map of the accessible areas."

He spoke as he moved a finger across the marked passage.

"Expected duration is two to three hours, at least that’s the normal expected duration with a party, depending on how quickly the assigned route is cleared of course. Most of the monsters inside are low Mortal, with a few peak Intermediate specimens. No known boss-class monster in the section we’re using. The boss monster lies at the heart of the gate, and we will not be venturing that deep."

Keane studied the map. The lines and symbols meant little to him, but the explanation was useful. ’Looks like gates don’t disappear after clear?’ He thought to himself. It was a question he would be bringing up later.

Rovan continued without waiting for questions.

"This is an evaluation, not a standard contract. Keane here, will enter alone. The rest of us will observe and record his performance. We’re looking at combat judgment, control, awareness, and how he handles a known environment. Raw strength is only one part of it. Well, your recordings aren’t really important." He said, folding the paper.

"You’re all coming along in case we need to intervene. We intervene if he requests help, or if the situation clearly requires it. Don’t interfere just because you dislike what he’s doing, and don’t let him die because you’re trying to prove a point."

His eyes settled briefly on Curtis, "Understood?"

"Of course, Captain." Curtis answered. His attention had already shifted to Keane.

He looked him over from head to toe, taking in the plain clothes, the lack of insignia, and the absence of anything that might suggest a professional adventurer or at least a competent newbie.

His expression tightened a little. "So this is him."

Keane met his eyes, "Keane." He said in introduction.

"I know your name." Curtis said, as if Keane had wasted his time by introducing himself. "You’re the unranked guy the acting Guildmaster decided to fast-track, huh?"

There was no need to ask what he thought of that. Keane had heard the same tone from managers who wanted to know why someone without the proper title had been allowed into a meeting, and right now, Curtis was sounding very familiar in that regard.

"That’s right," Keane said, pulling down the annoyance that had risen with a bad memory.

Curtis waited, apparently expecting more, but nothing came, causing his mouth to flatten.

’I earned my standing through the progressing in my skills, three years of field contracts, and a record the Guild can actually verify. Now here comes some nobody with no rank and no history anyone can find, and yet we’re supposed to treat him as a serious candidate because the Guildmaster says so."

As if reading his mind, Keane could tell what kind of thoughts were going through Curtis’s head, his face didn’t do much to mask it.

Even then, Keane could understand his perspective, but regardless of whether he understood or not, it didn’t make the man any less irritating. ’Don’t blame the CEO’s son for being born through the loins of his father.’ He thought to himself.

"I’m not asking you to treat me as anything," Keane said. "Just do the job you were assigned."

Curtis’s eyes narrowed. "Easy to say when you’re the one receiving special treatment."

"Curtis," Rovan said, in the same tone someone might use to remind a coworker that a meeting was still in progress.

Curtis looked away, though not before making it clear he wasn’t finished with Keane.

The woman standing beside him had been watching more quietly. Rovan introduced her as Amda.

She wore a practical set of light armor, with a staff strapped across her back and a small collection of pouches at her waist. She hadn’t tried to interrupt Curtis, but her eyes had moved over Keane just as carefully. She had a soft voice when she spoke, and earlier, she had gone through Keane’s papers Rovan had on the table.

"Your residency papers were signed by Lady Vane?"

"Yes." Keane answered, though he wasn’t quite comfortable with that inside.

Amda’s gaze stayed on him briefly, but in that short while, something in her expression changed, but not quite into suspicion. It was closer to concern.

"Lady Vane has a reputation," she said.

"I’ve heard." Keane asnwered.

"And you’re comfortable being associated with her?"

Keane almost laughed.

’Comfortable? That’s one way to describe it.’

He had no interest in explaining his situation to someone he’d met less than a minute ago. Besides, the truth would only raise more questions.

"I’m managing."

Amda didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t push, either.

For Keane, all of this so far felt kind of irritating in its own way. Curtis wanted to challenge him directly. Amda seemed more like a cat.

"Are we going to spend the whole morning interviewing him, or can we get moving?" A third voice said, he had been introduced as Cush.

He was the youngest of the three, and stood leaning against a nearby table, arms loosely crossed. He looked only a little older than Keane, with an easy posture that didn’t quite match the weapons at his belt. He had been watching the exchange with open amusement the entire time.

"Cush," Rovan said. "Try to look like you’re being paid to be here."

"I AM, being paid to be here, otherwise I wouldn’t."

"Then act like it."

Cush grinned and pushed away from the table.

"Fine. What’s up youngin? Like he said, I’m Cush. I handle the front line when things get ugly, and I prefer jobs where the pay is good and everyone gets home afterward, you know? What’s the use of money if you never get to spend it? You get what I mean?"

He glanced at Keane with a wink.

"Personally, I don’t particularly care what this is all about, as long as neither of those things gets threatened."

After listening to all that, Curtis gave him a look. "You really don’t care?"

"I care if he’s going to get me killed. His paperwork is your problem." Cush asnwered, shrugging.

"He could be a fraud for all we know."

"Then he’ll be a fraud who gets eaten by a monster. Either way, I better be getting paid in whatever case."

Amda frowned slightly, visibly ticked off by Cush’s words, or maybe it was his attitude they’ve had to deal with not just then. "Is money really all you care about?"

Cush looked at her as though she’d asked whether he enjoyed breathing, "Well, I also care about you?"

"Tsk..."

"Hey, I might live for the gold, but I have my limits, okay?" He said, apparently, that wasn’t the first.

Curtis snorted, "Your limits are well known."

"Are they?" Cush asked, still smiling. "That’s nice. I didn’t know you followed my career."

"I know what you used to be."

"Then you should know I’m not that anymore." Cush said, yet with a smile, though his tone had changed now.

Rovan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"What was he?" Keane who was standing by his side asked.

"Well, since you’re standing right here, I’ll clear this up before it becomes another argument."

"Cush used to run with one of the border-region bandit outfits, the real deal apparently, not a few idiots robbing travelers on a road. He left before things got worse. As far as the Guild could establish, he never took part in the worst of their business, and he came out without blood on him beyond the usual work."

Cush gave a small shrug.

"What? I wasn’t cut out for that life, okay? I wouldn’t be here otherwise."

’Well, that doesn’t explain that, but makes sense.’