The Guildmaster's office in Anvil-Deep was designed to make people feel small. The walls were riveted steel, the windows were barred, and the air smelled heavily of weapon polish and cheap, imported cigars.
Sitting behind a desk made from a salvaged siege engine was Guildmaster Valka Vance. She was a woman in her late forties who looked like she chewed gravel for breakfast. A jagged scar ran from her jawline down to her collarbone, a souvenir from a manticore she had supposedly strangled with her bare hands. She was currently exhaling a thick cloud of blue smoke while aggressively stamping a stack of requisition forms.
Standing before her at rigid attention was Commander Kaelen. Puddles of water were pooling around his steel boots.
To his left stood Ignis, humming with mechanical menace. To his right, Elara the Bard was frantically scribbling in her notebook, trying to capture the exact shade of Kaelen's misery.
"Let me get this straight," Valka rasped, her voice like a shovel scraping against stone. She didn't look up from her paperwork. "You breached the Spire of Desire. You engaged the Class S threat. And then... you fell out of a window?
"I was repelled by a localized blast of pink kinetic energy, Ma'am," Kaelen stated, his voice a tight, military bark. He was staring at a spot on the wall three inches above Valka's head. It was the only safe place to look.
Valka finally looked up, squinting through the cigar smoke. "And the Demon Queen? Is she dead?"
"Negative."
Valka slammed her iron stamp down on the desk. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "Negative?! You are the Ironclad! You have a 100% mission success rate! You don't come back with a 'negative,' Kaelen, you come back with a severed head in a sack! What is your excuse? Did she have a dragon? A legion of pit fiends?"
Kaelen swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper. "She deployed a... biological override, Ma'am. A curse. It has severely compromised my tactical decision-making."
Valka leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, the scarred side of her face illuminated by the harsh forge-light from the window. "A curse? What kind of curse? Does it weaken your armor? Does it sap your stamina?"
DING!
Kaelen's breath hitched.
The cheerful, high-pitched tavern bell rang inside his skull. The translucent pink HUD flickered to life in his field of vision, overlaying Valka's grim, smoke-wreathed face with a shower of digital rose petals.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: WEEKLY CRITERIA TIMER EXPIRED. ]
[ ANALYZING NEW ENVIRONMENT... ]
[ NEW CRITERIA LOCKED: "SCARRED AUTHORITY FIGURES" ]
Kaelen's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror. He tried to look away, but the HUD drew a glowing pink targeting reticle squarely over Guildmaster Valka's face.
[ MATCH DETECTED! ]
[ TARGET: GUILDMASTER VALKA VANCE ]
[ INITIATE CHAIN-OF-COMMAND SEDUCTION. ]
A wave of supernatural heat crashed over Kaelen. The room suddenly felt entirely too small. Valka's harsh, grating voice didn't sound angry anymore; it sounded dominant. The cigar smoke didn't smell cheap; it smelled intoxicating. And that scar... by the gods, that scar was magnificent.
"Commander?" Valka barked, narrowing her eyes. "Are you having a stroke? You're sweating. And why are your pupils dilating?"
"I..." Kaelen gripped the edges of his armored thigh plates, his knuckles turning white. "I am experiencing... intense psychological suppression, Ma'am."
"Spit it out, soldier! What does the curse do?!" Valka yelled, standing up from her desk. She slammed both hands down on the steel surface, leaning into his space.
[ DIALOGUE OPTION DETECTED ]
> Option A: Request Medical Leave.
> Option B: Tell her who's really in charge.
Kaelen fought with everything he had. He bit his tongue so hard he tasted copper. He tried to channel years of brutal, emotionless military conditioning.
He lost.
Kaelen leaned over the desk, his massive frame casting a shadow over the Guildmaster. He reached out and gently, agonizingly slowly, removed the cigar from her mouth.
"The curse, Valka," Kaelen purred, his voice dropping into a ruinous, velvety bass that made Elara drop her pen, "is that I have suddenly realized... you are working entirely too hard."
Silence descended on the office. It was the kind of silence that precedes an avalanche.
Valka stared at him, utterly paralyzed by confusion. "What... what did you just call me?"
"You carry the weight of the Bastion on your shoulders," Kaelen continued, his eyes locked onto her scar, his body moving completely against his will. "Let me help you carry it. You are a titan of industry. A goddess of bureaucracy. Punish me for my failure, Guildmaster. Put it on my permanent record."
[ SYSTEM ALERT: CRITICAL HIT! ROMANCE POINTS +50 ]
"Ignis!" Elara screamed from the corner, scrambling backward. "Code Red! He's hitting on the boss! He's going to get us all executed!"
"Threat detected. Insubordination parameters met," Ignis droned.
The War Golem didn't bother with the water hose this time. He stepped forward, clamped a massive, cold obsidian hand onto the back of Kaelen's breastplate, and hoisted the seven-foot-tall knight entirely off the floor.
Kaelen dangled in the air, his boots kicking uselessly. "Valka, wait! We could requisition a dinner! Candlelight is tax-deductible!"
"Evacuating compromised asset," Ignis stated calmly, turning toward the door and carrying Kaelen out like a piece of misbehaving luggage.
Valka Vance stood perfectly still behind her desk. The cigar had fallen from her fingers and was burning a hole in a map of the Frost-Fang Peaks. Her scarred face was flushed a deep, alarming shade of crimson.
She slowly turned her head to look at Elara, who was frozen by the door.
"Did... did the Ironclad just tell me to punish him?" Valka asked, her voice uncharacteristically small.
Elara winced, tapping her notebook. "It's the curse, Ma'am! Demon Queen Erosia! It scrambles his... his target-acquisition parameters! He doesn't mean it!"
Valka slowly sat back down in her chair. She touched her scar, a strange, terrifyingly soft look crossing her hardened features.
"I see," Valka cleared her throat, suddenly sitting very straight. "Well. Tell the Commander that his... disciplinary hearing... will be held over steaks at the Brass Boar Tavern. At exactly nineteen-hundred hours. He is to wear his dress uniform."
Elara stared in horror. "Ma'am, he's not—"
"Dismissed, Bard!" Valka snapped, slamming her iron stamp down on the desk again. "And tell him to bring flowers! For... tactical camouflage!"
Elara bolted from the room. The curse hadn't just compromised Kaelen; it was spreading.