"Oh, what an honor, Hunter Voss. I hadn’t realized I was in the presence of a future S-Rank. Allow me to adjust my posture. Allow me to thank the gods for the opportunity to process your file. Allow me to note this moment in my personal journal so that in the future I can sell the memory to your official biographer. How many gold coins do you think a direct testimony from the receptionist who first registered you is worth?"

"I’m going to say fifteen."

"Fifteen gold coins is reasonable. I’ll note the price."

"Are you actually going to note it?"

"I’m going to note the price of the memory, yes. The probability that that notation will ever serve a purpose is slightly lower than the probability that you’ll actually reach S-Rank, but since they’re in the same percentage range, the two things are worth the same."

"Mira."

"Yes?"

"That was cruel."

"It was proportional."

"Acceptable."

Nathan smiled. Mira smiled back, briefly. Her smile was professional and controlled, but it was the first real smile Nathan had seen from her in four days of interactions, and that was already valuable information.

Then Mira recovered her carefully neutral expression.

"Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"Seriously now. Where are you going?"

"North."

"North as in north of Greywall, or north as in north of the continent?"

"North of the continent."

"To the Northern Kingdom?"

"Yes."

"Hunter Voss."

"Mira."

"Do you know how to get to the Northern Kingdom?"

"More or less."

"More or less?"

"I have a map."

"You have a map."

"Yes."

"And does the person you’re escorting know the way?"

"Reasonably, yes."

"So the person being escorted is also going to be guiding."

"That’s a specifically accurate way of describing it, yes."

Mira looked at him for a moment.

"Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"Who are you escorting?"

"Someone."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s exactly the appropriate amount of an answer."

"Is it the girl you were seen with in the alley?"

Nathan went very still for a second.

"What girl?"

"Hunter Voss." Mira looked at him with the specific patience of someone who already knew the answer before asking the question. "Three adventurers from the Silver Breeze Guild officially reported this morning, in the presence of a magistrate, that yesterday afternoon they saw a Hunter of a description specifically matching yours guarding a young elven-looking girl in an alley in the commercial district. The report was filed as justification against an accusation made against them of inappropriate behavior in the same alley. The accusation, apparently, came from someone else who also saw them."

"Ah."

"Yes."

"That’s information I wasn’t aware of."

"Apparently."

"Was the report made public?"

"No. It stayed in the magistrate’s archives. But I, as guild receptionist, have access to reports that mention registered Hunters. And the description they gave of you was very specific."

"Mira."

"Hunter Voss."

"Is that part of my file?"

"Not officially. It’s in my memory."

"Your memory?"

"Yes."

"And what are you planning to do with that information?"

"Nothing." Mira looked at him with the specific expression he’d already learned to read as professional honesty. "It’s not my place to do anything with it. I’m a receptionist. My job is to process missions, not investigate Hunters. But if you’re asking me whether I know that the elven girl two adventurers saw in an alley is likely the same person you’re escorting to the Northern Kingdom, the honest answer is that the two hypotheses fit together too well to be separated, and I’d prefer to register it out loud so you know what I know."

Nathan was quiet for a moment.

*This woman is dangerously competent.*

*I’m going to have to decide very soon whether to make her a formal ally or a future problem. And the correct answer to that decision probably requires more information about her than I currently have.*

"Mira."

"Yes?"

"I appreciate the out-loud registration."

"You’re welcome."

"Anything else you want to register out loud before this conversation ends?"

"Yes. One thing."

"I’m listening."

"I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you. I don’t know what Class you have. I don’t know where that Seal came from. I don’t know why a merchant with questionable provisional licensing would offer you permanent employment after a single mission. I don’t know why a daughter of an elven noble house was walking barefoot in a Greywall alley with you standing beside her. I don’t know the real weight of your file when you start adding up all the things that don’t fit." Pause. "But I do know that whatever’s happening is bigger than your two registered missions suggest. And as a receptionist, my job doesn’t include pursuing that information. My job includes processing what’s reported and leaving the rest alone. That’s what I’m going to do."

"Thank you."

"Don’t thank me. It’s professional protocol." Another pause. "But, Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"If someday you decide you need someone inside the guild who knows what you actually know, my counter is here. And my capacity for discretion is considerably higher than the average administrative staff in the kingdom."

Nathan looked at her for a full moment.

*I just received an informal alliance offer, in terms that leave me total freedom to accept or not, from a guild receptionist who apparently has spent four days evaluating whether I’m worth it.*

*This city keeps surprising me.*

"I appreciate the offer, Mira."

"Consider it permanent. It doesn’t have an expiration date."

"Accepted as permanent."

"Good."

There was a silence.

Nathan stared at the counter for a few seconds. Processing. Deciding.

And then, without any prior rehearsal preparing him for this exact moment, he said:

"Mira."

"Yes?"

"Now speaking seriously."

Mira looked up from the ledger she’d reopened.

Her eyes focused on him with the specific attention of someone who’d registered the change in tone.

"I’m listening."

"Do you think you could do me a favor?"

Pause.

"A favor?"

"Yes. A favor. Personal. Not guild-related." Nathan looked at her directly. "I have some information. Information that’s delicate. Information that requires a specific type of handling. And you’re the only person in this city who comes to mind who would be capable of doing this without making it more complicated than it already is."

Mira looked at him.

Slowly, she set her pen down on the book.

Closed the book.

Placed her hands on the counter.

And, with the specifically serious expression of someone who had just shifted from professional mode to personal mode in the space of a single breath, she said:

"Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?"