A Flashback

The rowdy ambience of the guildhall took a backseat in his mind as the strange eldritch markings on the black cube once again captivated his attention.

“Still trying to figure out that box?” Lyndis asked.

Morgan glanced up from the black cube which he had been fumbling for the past hour or so. Lyndis, the vivacious elven war-priestess had just slid into the seat across his table and was watching him closely with her jade-green eyes. Morgan snorted. “I don’t think it’s a box, Lynd,” he replied.

“Uhuh. Suuuure. Is that why you’ve been trying to pry it open for the past three days?”

“I’m not. I’m just… Oh, I don’t know. Just trying to make something happen I suppose. Anything at all. I have this nagging feeling that there might be more to it than meets the eye.”

“Another one of your gut feelings huh?” Lyndis asked. A coy smirk formed on her lovely face as she brushed back a lock of ash blonde hair. “That always works out well…”

“Hmmm… Wait a minute, if memory serves, don’t you owe me some coin?” Morgan asked with a grin.

“Ugh! Come on! It was one drink! Just let it go already!”

“It was a whole casket of cider, Lynd.”

“Like I said, one drink!” Lyndis exclaimed, getting flustered.

A group of adventurers came up to their table carrying trays laden heavily with drink and food. “You can have one of Lyndis’s meads, Mog,” said Sylvania, who was balancing a full tray of tankards in her arms.

“Whaaaaaat?!” Lyndis exclaimed in disbelief.

The three newcomers, Sylvania, Yvette, and Yvonne respectively slammed a full tray of mead and a huge platter of roast meat down on the table before sitting down.

Sylvania is another elf with long golden blonde hair and beautiful sapphire blue eyes who holds a paladin class. Yvette and Yvonne were part-human twins. Despite that, Yvette had rich crimson-red hair while Yvonne’s hair was richly black. Even their body forms were different, with Yvette being a little shorter and more slender while Yvonne stood tall and had a much more athletic frame. Only their similar facial features and eyes betrayed their shared heritage. They had regal gold irises with elongated and serrated reptilian pupils which advertised their draconic bloodlines. Yvette is an adept sorceress while Yvonne is a knight.

Sylvania shared the bench with Lyndis across the table while the twins slid up on the bench beside Morgan. The twins’s mouths watered as they beheld the feast which they had placed down on the table moments before. It was an entire half of a Northwood six-legged deer, marinated in herbs and spices, and roasted to golden, crispy, perfection.

Morgan immediately grabbed a tankard of mead for himself, much to Lyndis’s dismay.

“What are the both of you doing?” Sylvania asked as she poked her head over the roasted deer to get a look of the twins on the other side of the table. The two sisters were already busy carving out a leg of roast each.

“What do you think we’re doing? We’re eating!” Yvette replied with annoyance tinging her husky voice.

“Put down your knives for now,” Sylvania commanded, “First we shall give thanks to the goddess.”

The entire table groaned. Even Lyndis, who was a war priestess.

“How many thanks does the goddess even need?” Yvette whined, “Let us just feast already!”

Due to the massive mound of roasted deer placed before her, Yvette could not see the panicked expression on Lyndis’s face as she kept gesturing “no” with her arms and shaking here head left and right vigorously. However, the change in Sylvania’s demeanor was quickly apparent to all.

“Oh my, what do we have here?” Sylvania asked darkly, while maintaining a disturbingly serene smile on her beautiful face, “A heretic?”

Yvette gulped. She glanced to her right at her taller raven-haired sister who was already clasping her hands together while bowing her head solemnly with her eyes closed. “Wha… Yvonne? When did you…” Yvette said. She quickly turned to Morgan on her left and saw him cautiously putting down the black cube and following suit with his hands.

“Ah, n-no…” Yvette said as she glanced up meekly at Sylvania. She quickly put her hands together. “P-praise the goddess. Praise Solisana!”

Sylvania beamed at her. “Praise Solisana indeed. We must offer our thanks for this day’s most generous bounty,” she said as she too clasped her hands and raised her head in reverence.

What followed wasn’t so much a prayer, but a sermon.

“And that’s why on the eighth day of the week, we stuff sack-cloths with duck feathers and wear them over our heads,” Sylvania proclaimed proudly, “To symbolize our humility before Solisana’s never-ending radiance.”

The table was mournfully silent.

Lyndis had placed her tankard of mead beneath her clasped hands and was trying to steal another sip. Yvette and Yvonne was openly drooling and teetering on the verge of tears as their gazes bore yearningly into to the untouched fragrant roasted deer before them.

“Oh my. Apologies everyone, I seem to have gotten carried away again,” Sylvania said demurely. “Let us dig in!”

The twins pounced upon the deer with their carving knives like a pair of rabid wolves. Lyndis quickly picked up her tankard of mead and started chugging, stopping only to let out a moan of satisfaction.

“Slow down you two, jeez, the roast is for everyone,” Sylvania said as she sat back down. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Morgan seemingly still frozen in prayer pose. His hands were still clasped together and his head was lowered against it. However his eyes were open and focused on the black cube, which he had placed on the table between his propped elbows.

“Morgan, would you like some roasted deer?” Sylvania asked, “My treat.”

“Hmmm? Oh. Thanks,” Morgan replied, glancing up.

“You’re awfully obsessed about that box,” Sylvania said, “I thought it was merely a trinket from the last dungeon raid.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Morgan replied with a defeated sigh. “Just my luck to pick out the one useless bauble among all the spoils.”

There was suddenly some cheering coming from the front end of the guildhall. Morgan glanced back over his shoulder and saw Edan Javierfield making his way towards the guild counter with his entourage in tow.

“There goes our guildmaster with his new friends,” Lyndis grumbled as she got started on her second mug of mead, “Ever since we’ve merged with the Manticore Sting guild, it’s like he’s become too good for the likes of us.”

“Well it can’t be helped,” Yvette said as she gnawed on a greasy deer rump, “They’re all several levels higher than us. Naturally, he’ll be better off attached to their party for raids. I hear they just hit the old Harbinger city ruins. Can’t do that with us in tow at our current levels. We’d be slaughtered.”

“It just feels like we’re becoming more and more Manticore Sting than staying Gryphon Heart, you know?” Lyndis said, “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? After all, they’re the ones who are coming under our wing after that whole Bloody Mist dungeon fiasco.”

“Well, it’s give and take,” Sylvania said, “We got this sweet guildhall out of the deal didn’t we? Do you really want to go back to the old days meeting in shady taverns, drinking watered down ale, and having mystery-meat stew?”

“Well when you put it like that…” Lyndis said, her voice trailing off as she lifted her tankard to her mouth. “NOOOO! IT’S EMPTY!” She exclaimed and overturned her dry tankard in disbelief. She then glanced across the table sorrowfully at Morgan’s untouched mead.

Morgan sighed and pushed his tankard towards Lyndis.

“YAAAAAAY!” Says Lyndis. She seizes the tankard and happily brings it to her lips.

“You’re paying me back for the cider, you damned elf,” Morgan said.

“Oh, go play with your box in the corner, you wretched miser!” Lyndis replied and stuck out her tongue.