Chapter Eleven

[author] I don't know how, but somehow one thing led to another and by the time I realized it, I was done with this chapter. So here's chapter eleven, a little late but Weekends am I right.[/author]

Dagon's office is dimly lit. The walls are adorned with trophies and medals, symbols of the guild's triumphs. But the members of Ironhaven can't appreciate the grandeur, their minds still reeling from their recent encounter with the Ursagorath despite being back in the city for three days.

"Ah, Ironhaven," Dagon says, his voice deep and commanding. "I'm glad you're here. Your report on the undead Ursagorath is... enlightening."

Priscilla's eyes widen, her voice trembling. "Enlightening? Sir, that thing is a nightmare. We barely made it out alive."

Dagon nods, his eyes grave. "I know. That's why I need your expertise in this matter. You'll be second-in-command to the A-rank party, Stormbringers. They'll lead the mission, but I want you to provide support and guidance."

Thorn's face pales, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Support and guidance? You mean we're going back into that hellhole?"

Rollo's voice is laced with contempt. "Yeah, and what's the pay for this 'support' mission? Is it worth our lives?"

Dagon's expression turns stern. "Your pay will be commensurate with your rank, of course. But this mission is too important to quibble over gold. The undead Ursagorath poses a threat to the city, and we need every top party on hand to defeat it."

Silvari's voice is barely audible, her eyes fixed on the floor. "But, sir... can't we just... rest for a bit longer? We're not exactly in top shape. And that thing... it's still out there, not going anywhere."

Dagon's face softens, but his eyes remain firm. "I understand your concerns, Silvari, but time is of the essence. The undead creature won't wait for us to recover. You'll have a few days to prepare, but then you'll need to be ready to face it again."

The members of Ironhaven exchange terrified glances, their faces reflecting their horror at the thought of facing the abomination again. With a depressed sigh, Rollo stands to leave, his party behind him.

The door closes and Dagon releases a breath he didn't know he was holding while massaging his temples.

He looks through the stack of papers before him once again and sighs. A sudden draft from the window alerts him to a new presence in his office. "Just use the damn door, Namarie."

As Dagon speaks, the door slides open, and a middle-aged woman with long, curly silver hair and piercing emerald eyes walks in. Her slender figure is clad in a fitted black robe with intricate silver embroidery, a golden sash cinched at her waist. A delicate silver circlet adorns her brow, and her fingers are long and graceful. Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief as she approaches Dagon's desk ignoring the previous fiasco.

"Ah, of course, " Dagon says, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "I should have known you'd appear at the most inconvenient moment."

Namarie's smile is wicked. "Inconvenient? Ah, no. I'm precisely on time, as always. You're just not used to people who don't cower in your presence, Dagon."

Her eyes flicker to the papers on Dagon's desk, and her brow arches. "Ah, the Ursagorath report. I see you're taking this seriously, at least. Though I'm surprised you didn't come crawling to me sooner."

Dagon's expression turns stern. "I don't 'crawl' to anyone, Namarie. And I certainly don't need your help to handle a few undead monsters."

Namarie's laughter is like silver bells. "Oh, but you do, Dagon. You need my mages, and you need my expertise. And I'm willing to offer them... for a price."

She snaps her fingers, and a small pouch appears in her hand. "A few... special preparations, courtesy of the Institution. Potions, enchanted weapons, and a scroll or two. Just in case things get... interesting."

Dagon's eyes narrow. "What makes you think I need your help, Namarie? My guild is more than capable of handling this mission."

Namarie's smile widens. "Oh, I'm not just offering my help, Dagon. I'm offering my mages. The best in the city, and you know it. And I'm willing to lend them to you... for a small favor, of course."

"No deal." Dagon shifts the items away. "You're just trying to cover your asses, a powerful undead found it's way this close to the city under your noses." Namarie's smile never wavers. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Dagon. The Institution had nothing to do with the Ursagorath's... unexpected appearance. But we are willing to help you clean up the mess. For a price."

Her eyes gleam with amusement. "You see, I have a little proposition for you. One that benefits both our organizations. You get the help you need to defeat the Ursagorath, and I get... the guild's assistance in understanding why our Institute's sensors failed to detect the Ursagorath's unique magical signature. We need to know why our defenses were blind to this particular threat."

Dagon's expression turns stern. "You're asking me to help you understand why your Institute's sensors were blind to the Ursagorath's approach? That's a pretty big failure on your part, Namarie."

Namarie's smile widens. "Oh, but that's precisely why we need your help, Dagon. To identify the weaknesses in our sensors and strengthen our defenses. And in return, we'll provide you with the expertise and resources you need to defeat the Ursagorath. It's a win-win situation."

Dagon's frown deepens. "That's not all is it?" He stares at her intensely.

Namarie's smile never wavers. "Ah, no. There's one more thing. A small... favor really. It's about a... recent addition to your organization. You can't just expect me to ignore a walking sea of mana suddenly entering the city. Unfortunately... it went straight for your establishment." Namarie's eyes gleam with a knowing intensity as she speaks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "A walking sea of mana, Dagon. Really, you can't expect me to ignore that. It's like a beacon calling out to me, a tantalizing treasure trove of magical energy just waiting to be tapped."

Dagon's eyes narrow, his gaze piercing as he leans forward, his voice exasperated and confused. "What are you insinuating, Namarie? That we've somehow acquired a... a mana battery, or something?"

Namarie's laughter is like silver bells, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, no, Dagon. I'm not insinuating anything. I'm stating a fact. You have a walking, talking, breathing font of mana in your possession. And I want to know why."

Dagon's face darkens, his eyes blazing with anger. "You're being weird again, Namarie. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I believe her name is Maple, cute little thing. All over the city without a care in the world. A perfectly normal girl... If she didn't have the entire council turning on their heads."

Dagon's eyes flinch with fear when she mentions Maple, then they flash with anger, his voice low and deadly. "You're playing a dangerous game, Namarie. One that could get you killed."

Namarie's smile never wavers, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, I'm shaking in my boots, Dagon. But I think we both know that you won't hurt me. You need me, and I have what you want."

She pauses, her eyes gleaming with intensity. "Maple, Dagon. I want to know everything about her. Where she came from, how she ended up in your guild, and most importantly... how she's able to contain that much mana without bursting at the seams."

Dagon's face darkens, his eyes blazing with anger. "You're pushing your luck, Namarie. It's in our best interest we leave that one alone." ' You obviously don't see what I see.'

Namarie's laughter is like silver bells, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Dagon. You're so predictable. I know all about your little... acquisition. And I will stop at nothing to get what I want."

The air in the room crackles with tension as the two engage in a silent stare-down. The fate of Maple and the city hangs in the balance. Well mostly just the city.

Dagon's face darkens, his eyes blazing with a mix of fear and uncertainty. "I don't know what you're talking about, Namarie. But I warn you, don't poke your nose into things you don't understand."

Namarie's laughter is like silver bells, her eyes sparkling with amusement "You think you can hide secrets from me? I'll find out what's going on, and when I do, you'll regret not telling me sooner."

The air in the room crackles with tension as the two engage in yet another silent stare-down, each waiting for the other to blink.

Suddenly, Namarie's smile widens, and she snaps her fingers. "Ah, but I forget myself. I have a prior engagement. Until next time, Dagon. Until next time."

With a flick of her wrist, Namarie disappears into thin air, leaving Dagon to himself. Namarie's curiosity is a dangerous thing, and he can only hope that she doesn't doom them all.

"Please... Hurry back Joey."