Frozen Stars Over Wonderland - Chapter 11 (Patreon)

“I can’t believe you made a promise to a GOD!” Izo gushed, falling into step next to Alfre as Elias led the way out of the Wilds. 

“I can’t either,” Spica muttered. She turned to look at Alfre over her shoulder and spoke again, louder this time. “That was a very stupid thing to do. What are you going to do when you can’t find the person who did that? Never go into the Wilds again?”

“Who said I wasn’t going to find him?” Alfre challenged. “Whoever killed that wolf skinned her perfectly. There wasn’t a bit of fur left behind. There can’t be that many people with that kind of skill.”

“They’d have to be a high level hunter,” Elias agreed. “Probably with either a tailor or famer subclass, they’d be the only ones with the skill to handle that type of material.”

“And if they’ve done something that’s supposed to be impossible, they’re going to be bragging about it,” Alfre insisted. “Like I said, I’m gonna find the asshole who did it. What Canus does with them is his prerogative.”

“How are you going to get him out there for Canus, then?” Spica demanded. “There’s no way you can defeat them if their level is as high as you think it is.”

“I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

Spica groaned, rubbing at her temples. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Ren was the first person Alfre talked to when they returned to Spade. Alfre watched as anger, sorrow, and disgust swept over the guild master’s face. 

“It’s no one from our guild,” she assured Alfre. “We don’t have many high level hunters, and none of them have farmer or tailor as their subclass. And believe me, if it was one of my guys, I’d be more than happy to hand them over.”

“I know you would,” Alfre assured her. “But, keep an ear out for me. People are more willing to talk to you about things than they are me. If you hear anything, let me know.”

“You got it, snowflake.” 

She talked to Doremi next. The bard was something of a gossip, and always seemed to know things that no one else knew. She had to travel to the Sweet Summer Children guildhall for that. It was along the main shopping street of the city. While Crystal Moon Kingdom had a pub on its first floor, the Summer Children had a simple general store. All of the items were made in house, the young elf at the counter told her enthusiastically. Well worth the price, she insisted.

“That’s nice, lass, but I’m looking for Doremi,” Alfre interrupted gently. “I have something I need to talk to her about.”

The elf eyed her suspiciously. “Buy something first, then I’ll get her.”

Alfre’s shoulders dropped in disbelief. “You’re kidding me!”

“No purchase, no gossip,” the elf told her. “We’ve got a living to make, you know.”

Alfre growled and snatched the cheapest healing potion she could find and tossed her coins onto the counter. “Doremi, please.”

The elf’s smile was sickeningly sweet, a sure sign that she’d been training under June. “Of course, ma’am, right away. May I ask who’s asking for her.”

“Tell her Alfre from Crystal Moon Kingdom is here.”

The elf jumped from her stool behind the counter and scurried off. Alfre stood awkwardly at the counter for several long minutes, eyes perusing the shelves around her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around to see Doremi leaning across the counter, an amused smile on her lips as her orange ears twitched.

“Lucy said you wanted to see me?” 

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d heard about something.”

She explained the situation to Doremi, who listened with a mix of interest and barely hidden anger. There seemed to be some unspoken rule that if you couldn’t get something as a mob drop, you didn’t go out of your way to illegally obtain it. Direwolves, by their nature as being unkillable mobs, didn’t drop things. But the rules had changed, it seemed. Canus’ direwolves were in danger now; especially if it got around that you could skin them. Who knew what kind of properties their pelts had.

“I’ve not heard anything yet,” Doremi admitted. “But I’ll keep an ear out for you. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. When you find them, give that bastard a right hook for me.”

Alfre nodded and left the shop, running a hand nervously through her long hair. What kind of trophy hunter didn’t brag about his kills? Or maybe they hadn’t gotten back yet. What if they were still out in the Wilds? Her stomach sank at the thought. Spurred into action, she turned in the direction of The Knights of the Burning Oak’s guildhall. Unlike most guildhalls that resided along major streets in the city, the Knights settled themselves along the wall of the city, on a tiny side street that was lined with overgrown gardens.

She asked for Lance when she entered the building, staring down the heavily armored knight that acted as bouncer for the guildhall’s first floor. There wasn’t much to the building’s first floor, it reminded Alfre much of the hotels they had back home, a simple desk and two sets of stairs just off to the side, one that went up and one that went down. 

Lance was quick to come down the stairs after he was called for. He raised a questioning brow at Alfre. 

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Alfre, but what are you doing here?”

“I need a favor,” Alfre explained plainly. “Something happened in the Wilds and I wanted to know if you’d heard anything about it.”

“What kind of something?” Lance asked, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

“Someone killed and skinned one of Canus’ direwolves. One of the ones that’s supposed to be unkillable. I’m trying to find the bastard who did it. Have you heard anything?”

Lance’s ruby red eyes went wide in shock before a darkness fell over his expression. He turned to the knight manning the desk. “Bring me the recent reports. If anyone’s heard anything, they’d have mentioned it in one of their reports.”

The younger knight scurried off into the room behind the desk. He came back some minutes later with a large box stuffed with papers. He set it down on the desk with a grunt. “These are all the reports from the last week. If it’s in any reports, it’d be in these.”

Lance lifted the box easily with one hand and nodded for Alfre to follow him up the stairs. She followed silently, climbing two, three, four flights of stairs before Lance sharply turned down the hall. He nudged open a door with his foot, revealing a small office space with a large, ornate, dark wood desk with a chair on either side of it. 

“Take a seat, we’ll go through these reports and see if we can’t find something.”

“What are these reports you keep talking about?” Alfre asked, sitting in an oddly comfortable wood chair across the desk from Lance. “Do you have your guild members hand in their diaries?”

“No, nothing like that,” Lance said with a short laugh. “But we ask them to write down anything interesting they hear in the city in case something comes up. It used to be for reporting to admins when cheating or harassment happened during the game. Now, well…it’s mostly just a habit that carried over.”

“I see,” Alfre hummed, watching as Lance pulled stack after stack of paper out of the box. “I guess we should get started. This will probably take a while.”