The council chamber had emptied, but Lortel lingered. The mayor was gathering his papers when the berserker's shadow loomed back across the map of Iguro.
"Valerio," Lortel said, his voice quieter now, though no less heavy. "We need to talk—without the others."
The mayor straightened slowly, meeting the man's scarred gaze. "Speak."
Lortel rested both hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. "This goblin matter isn't a tavern brawl. It's a coordinated threat. If we mishandle the first strike, we're not just losing men—we're inviting the enemy to regroup stronger than before." He tapped a thick finger on the corner of the map where Olivia's guild name had been noted. "And you're giving part of this to them?"
Valerio's brow furrowed. "You're referring to Silver Phantom."
"Aye. New guild, barely three days old. Three members total—two of 'em green as spring wheat. You think they're ready for this? They'll break under the first real push." Lortel's tone wasn't cruel, but it was blunt, the voice of a man who had seen too many untested adventurers end up as names on memorial stones. "Olivia may have skill, but leading a raid is different than healing one. This is war, not a clinic."
The mayor folded his arms. "Olivia Verga is a registered guildmaster under the Adventurers' Board. Her credentials are valid."
"Credentials don't stop arrows," Lortel said flatly. "Look—I'm not saying she's a coward. I've fought beside clerics braver than half the swords in Visayas. But she's gambling lives she can't afford to lose. I'm not here to babysit her rookies when the blood starts spilling."
There was a long pause. Rain pattered faintly against the council chamber windows.
"You think I should cut them out?" the mayor asked.
Lortel nodded once. "At least until they've proved they can take a quest bigger than chasing rabbits. Put them on supply duty, scouting—something where they're not the thin line between us and a warband." His jaw tightened slightly. "I don't want to see more graves because someone thought sentiment was strategy."
In the shadows of the council hall's outer corridor, Olivia's hand tightened around the leather strap of her satchel. She'd come back to retrieve the copy of the goblin report she'd left behind—only to catch Lortel's words bleeding through the partially closed door.
Every sentence was like a slow twist of the knife.
She didn't linger to hear the mayor's response. Her boots clicked sharply against the stone floor as she turned away, jaw clenched. By the time she stepped out into the rain, the words were already ringing in her mind: Three members total… green as spring wheat… can't afford to lose them.
"Damn him," she muttered under her breath, the words lost in the downpour. She pulled her hood up and started for the guild, each step hard and fast. She would not—could not—let Silver Phantom be written off as a liability. Not now.
Back in the now-empty council chamber, the mayor was rolling the goblin map into a leather case when a soft rustle drew his attention.
Mayara still sat in the far corner, hood lowered slightly, eyes fixed on some unseen point in the wood grain of the table. Without a word to Lortel or the mayor, she reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew a small, polished scroll case marked with curling black runes.
She set it on the table, murmured a word, and the scroll inside flared briefly with a cold, violet light. The air rippled—like the surface of disturbed water—and the faint outline of a face appeared in the space above the parchment.
Her lips curved faintly, though her tone remained as quiet as ever. "You failed."
The image flickered and vanished, the scroll sealing itself shut once more. Mayara rose without another glance, her robes whispering over the floor as she stepped past Lortel and into the rain.
The mayor's gaze followed her for a moment before he turned back to the map, his frown deepening.
Somehow, the goblins weren't the only ones making moves in the dark.