Chapter 19
The morning after the unsettling reports, the Silver Ember Guild awoke to chaos.
This was not unusual.
What was unusual was that the chaos had banners.
Rowan Valebright stood at the base of the guild's central staircase, arms crossed, staring at the riot of color now draped across his once-respectable hall.
Pink streamers.
Gold ribbons.
A banner that read, in aggressively cheerful lettering:
HAPPINESS SOLVES EVERYTHING
Below it, in smaller script:
— Sir Dorian Lionsreach
Rowan closed his eyes.
He inhaled.
He exhaled.
"...Dorian."
From atop a ladder that absolutely should not have been allowed inside the guild hall, Dorian beamed down at him.
"Ah! You're awake! Perfect timing."
Rowan opened one eye. "Explain."
Dorian gestured grandly, nearly losing his balance in the process.
"Morale initiative."
Rowan's other eye opened.
"No."
"Yes."
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're responding to last night."
"I am responding to vibes," Dorian corrected. "Which were grim. And grim vibes lead to brooding. Brooding leads to bad decisions. And bad decisions—" he pointed at Rowan "—lead to you staring at walls at three in the morning."
"I was thinking," Rowan muttered.
"You were glaring at a brick."
Lila, entering the hall with a stack of paperwork, stopped dead in her tracks.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"...Why is there a balloon shaped like a heart tied to the quest board?"
Dorian slid down the ladder with a flourish. "Because, my dear Lila Fairbloom, this guild needs joy."
The balloon promptly popped.
Dorian stared at the remains.
"...Symbolic."
Rowan looked at Lila. "I tried to stop him."
She smiled faintly. "You didn't try very hard."
"That's because he threatened to replace my chair with a beanbag."
"I would've followed through," Dorian said proudly.
Within the hour, the guild hall was full.
Adventurers gathered around tables that now bore tablecloths. Someone had set out pastries. Someone else had brought a lute.
Rowan did not authorize any of this.
He sat stiffly at the head table while Dorian paced like a general addressing troops.
"Listen up!" Dorian called. "In light of recent... brooding—"
Rowan glared.
"—we are implementing Operation: Cheer the Guild Master."
Groans rippled through the room.
"I hate this already," Rowan said.
"Good!" Dorian pointed at him. "That means it's working."
Lila stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching with a mixture of amusement and concern.
Dorian continued. "First order of business: positivity exercises."
A burly adventurer raised his hand. "Is this mandatory?"
"Yes."
"What happens if we refuse?"
Dorian smiled sweetly. "Rowan leads your next training session."
The hand went down immediately.
Rowan sighed.
The exercises were... questionable.
"Compliment the person to your left."
"Name three things you're grateful for."
"Pretend the world isn't ending."
That last one earned applause.
When it was Rowan's turn, Dorian leaned in eagerly.
"Go on," Dorian said. "Share."
Rowan stared at the floor.
"...I'm grateful the guild roof hasn't collapsed in three years."
"Progress!" Dorian declared.
"And," Rowan added, "I'm grateful the west hasn't actually woken up."
There was a beat.
Laughter erupted — loud, exaggerated, forced.
Dorian clapped. "See? Jokes!"
Rowan looked at him. "That wasn't a joke."
"Everything is a joke if you refuse to acknowledge consequences."
Lila snorted.
Rowan shot her a look.
She tried to look innocent. Failed.
Later, Rowan escaped to his office.
He did not escape Dorian.
The knight commander leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, grin a little too bright.
"You're welcome," Dorian said.
"For what?"
"For reminding everyone that we're still alive, functional, and annoyingly optimistic."
Rowan sat heavily behind his desk. "You're overcompensating."
"Absolutely."
"You're deflecting."
"Without shame."
Rowan studied him. "You felt it too."
Dorian's grin softened — just a fraction.
"...Yeah," he admitted. "Didn't like it."
Rowan nodded once.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Dorian brightened suddenly.
"Which is why," he said, "I've arranged a double date."
Rowan choked.
"A what?"
"With you and Lila. And me and— well, that part's still flexible."
"No."
"Too late."
Rowan stood. "Dorian—"
"Tonight," Dorian continued, "at the Lantern Row tavern. Casual. Cozy. Romantic lighting. Absolutely no ominous talk."
Rowan opened his mouth to argue.
Stopped.
Closed it again.
"...You told her already."
Dorian grinned.
"She said yes."
Rowan's heart did an undignified thing.
"...She did?"
"After laughing for a full thirty seconds," Dorian added helpfully.
Rowan sank back into his chair.
"Maker help me."
When Rowan found Lila later, she was filing reports, expression suspiciously serene.
"You agreed to this?" he asked.
She looked up, eyes bright. "To dinner? Yes."
"To Dorian's dinner."
She smiled. "I figured if the world is lining up to cause trouble, we might as well eat first."
Rowan huffed a laugh.
"You're dangerous," he said.
"I work with you," she replied. "I adapt."
They shared a quiet smile.
The tension didn't vanish.
But it loosened.
Just enough.
That evening, as laughter echoed through the guild hall and Dorian loudly debated seating arrangements that made no sense, Rowan allowed himself to believe — just for a moment — that maybe this was enough.
That maybe joy really could hold the line.
Outside the city walls, far to the west, something shifted.
But inside the Silver Ember Guild, there was light.
And noise.
And Dorian Lionsreach, doing his best to drown out the future with jokes.
Lantern Row was doing its best impression of "cozy disaster."
The tavern glowed with amber lanternlight, warm and inviting, the kind of place where secrets were shared and bad decisions were made slowly over stew.
Tonight, it was hosting a catastrophe.
Rowan Valebright stood just inside the door, staring at the table Dorian had reserved.
It was round.
Small.
And absolutely not meant for four adults with armor-adjacent builds.
"You said casual," Rowan muttered.
Dorian, already seated and waving enthusiastically, grinned. "I did. Casual intimacy."
Lila arrived at Rowan's side, wearing a simple blue dress that made his brain temporarily stop functioning.
She noticed.
Her smile softened.
"You look tense," she said gently.
"I am in enemy territory," Rowan replied, eyes fixed on the table.
Dorian leaned over. "Relax. I measured."
"You did not."
"I used vibes."
The fourth chair scraped back.
A woman dropped into it confidently — tall, sharp-eyed, wearing a knight's tabard half-laced.
Dorian straightened immediately.
"Ah! You must be—"
"Captain Meriel Thorn," she said. "You sent a note saying this was urgent."
Dorian coughed. "Romantically urgent."
Meriel blinked.
Once.
Then laughed.
"Oh. This kind of disaster."
Rowan rubbed his face.
Lila bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Drinks arrived.
Food followed.
Dorian launched into conversation like a man fleeing silence.
"So! Meriel! What do you think of guild masters?"
Meriel took a sip. "I think they're usually overworked."
Rowan nodded solemnly.
"And emotionally repressed?" Dorian added.
Rowan glared.
Meriel smirked. "Often."
Lila nearly choked on her drink.
Rowan shot Dorian a warning look that had stopped dragons mid-charge.
Dorian ignored it.
"So! Rowan! Funny story about how Lila once reorganized the entire guild archive in a single night—"
"Dorian," Rowan said calmly.
"Yes?"
"Stop talking."
"Can't."
Despite everything — the cramped table, the conversational whiplash, the very real risk of Rowan physically removing Dorian from the premises — something unexpected happened.
They laughed.
Not forced laughter.
Real laughter.
Meriel proved sharp-witted and unbothered, easily parrying Dorian's antics. Lila relaxed, her usual composure melting into easy warmth. Rowan found himself speaking without measuring every word, his shoulders loosening with each passing minute.
At one point, Lila leaned closer to him to hear over the tavern noise.
Her knee brushed his.
Neither of them moved away.
Dorian noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His grin turned feral.
"So," he said loudly, "have you two considered just admitting you're courting?"
Rowan froze.
Lila went very still.
Meriel choked on her wine.
The table erupted into chaos.
"Dorian!" Rowan hissed.
Lila's ears turned pink.
Meriel laughed outright. "Bold strategy."
Dorian held up his hands. "I'm just saying! The entire guild has bets."
"There are no bets," Rowan said.
"There are absolutely bets," Dorian replied. "You're currently losing."
Rowan stared at Lila.
She met his gaze.
Something quiet passed between them — not embarrassment, not panic.
Recognition.
"...We're not denying it," she said softly.
Dorian's mouth fell open.
Rowan felt his heart stumble.
Meriel raised her glass. "To honesty, then."
They clinked.
Rowan exhaled, tension bleeding out of him in a way he hadn't realized he was holding.
Later, outside the tavern, the night air was cool and gentle.
Meriel clapped Dorian on the shoulder. "You're exhausting."
"High praise," Dorian said proudly.
She smirked. "We'll talk later. When you're less... you."
She left, shaking her head fondly.
Dorian turned back to Rowan and Lila, eyes shining.
"Well," he said. "That went wonderfully."
Rowan snorted.
Lila laughed.
And for a moment — just a moment — the world felt normal.
Rowan walked Lila back toward the guild.
They didn't speak much.
They didn't need to.
At the steps, she stopped.
"This was nice," she said.
"Despite Dorian."
"Especially despite Dorian."
Rowan smiled.
She hesitated, then took his hand briefly.
Just a squeeze.
"I'm glad we're... whatever this is," she said.
"So am I," Rowan replied.
She headed inside.
Rowan remained a moment longer, staring up at the stars.
For tonight, laughter had won.
Tomorrow... could wait.