Unlike Winston, a century hadn’t taken a toll on Rafael, as it wouldn’t for any demon in adulthood. Maybe there was a slight maturation of his features, since time had at least some sway on the long-lived races, but Vivi couldn’t spot any meaningful differences.

He had slicked-back hair, keen red eyes, and skin as pale as hers. He was dressed like a nobleman, wearing sharp, tailored clothes that spoke of high status, and he walked with confidence and purpose. Two black horns jutted from the top of his forehead—straight, not the curved horns of high-blooded demons.

She revised her initial plan and cast invisibility on him too before setting out, since while he didn’t have the same notoriety as the Sorceress, his was a face people would recognize. More than hers, even. The Chief Guildmaster of the Adventurer’s Guild would be identified faster than the oft-misrepresented hero of a century past. She also applied two [True Sights].

Meridian was home base to a good portion of the world’s guilds, and since it was best to contain the chaos so many adventurers brought, a district had been cordoned off. The trip to Vanguard’s guildhall lasted all of a few minutes traversing the Adventurer’s District.

Blue badges and even green flashed without much rarity in this part of the city, but Vivi had reinforced her spells with that in mind. Barring a dragon in disguise—which wasn’t impossible—nobody should see them.

In two minutes, they stood in front of Vanguard’s guildhall. Along with a small crowd.

To her horror, it had become a tourist destination.

Or the primitive equivalent. Obviously there were no flashing cameras and obnoxious poses being struck. But a thick rope hung around the front perimeter, keeping away the dozen people or so who had stopped to admire the historical landmark. A commemorative plaque was posted in front. At least there weren’t statues.

Finding the whole thing strangely embarrassing, Vivi slipped underneath the barrier and walked to the front door. While large and well-built, with wood and stone and brick and glass, nothing screamed the importance of the guild. It looked not dissimilar from the others around it, if, in fact, less gaudy than the two adjacent buildings. Both of which she suspected had vied furiously for ownership of real estate in such close proximity to Vanguard’s esteemed hall.

She read The Wardens on the one to the left, and people were streaming in and out of the swung-open double doors. She wrinkled her nose. Great. Her neighbors were the Caldimores. How serendipitous.

Maybe the main family wasn’t as annoying and spineless as the branch? She shouldn’t judge them all by Count Barnaby’s behavior. The Wardens didn’t seem to have a bad reputation. Saffra hadn’t seemed to indicate such, at least.

Arriving at the door, Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent questioning. Vivi waved her staff, casting an illusion to block anyone from seeing the door be pulled open, then grabbed the handle and tugged.

The guildhall yielded.

Behind her, Rafael sucked a breath in. Vivi suspected he had known it was her, that she wasn’t some illusionist disguising herself as the Sorceress, but nevertheless, opening the guildhall that had been closed for a century was a momentous event for him. For her too, if to a lesser degree. She felt her pulse pick up in excitement.

The guildhall was bigger inside than out, which for once wasn’t thanks to Vivi’s personal wards. Guilds were a natural feature of Seven Cataclysms, and upgrading the tier of a guild expanded its interior while keeping the exterior building—and the plot of land it sat on—reasonably sized. A gameplay necessity for cramming hundreds of player guilds into the same district. The poorest guilds had needed to use instanced versions; only the richest were given permanent real estate, and inactivity could quickly lead to eviction.

All of that seemed to have translated via the System, if no doubt in its own unique ways.

A short foyer led into the common room.

Vanguard, both in the game and in this world, was a small, private group comprised of her and her friends, so despite their relative influence—all five of them being some of the top players of Seven Cataclysms—they had designed the interior of the guildhall to be small and cozy.

Even more than her estate, the space had been immaculately preserved. Magically, rather than through a butler’s diligent efforts. There was no dust, decaying wood, or old smell pervading the air despite the years. The common room was tidy and clean. A collection of comfortable chairs surrounded a fireplace, the Vanguard insignia—a torch burning gold fire—hanging above the mantle. She swept her gaze around the room, taking it all in.

Rafael did the same, a hint of wonder in his eyes.

“I wondered if I would ever set foot inside this building again,” he murmured. “It hasn’t changed at all.”

As interested as she was, she couldn’t match Rafael’s nostalgia. It hadn’t been a century for her. That usual disconnect of standing in a place that she’d only ever known virtually had hit her too. That sense of surrealism. But she was getting used to it.

Her [Guild Status] command hadn’t magically repaired itself upon entering, and she debated asking Rafael. She didn’t know if that was a normal screen, though, and had yet to broach the topic of her ‘memory problems’.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Rafael saying, “There’s a quest on the board.”

Vivi’s eyes turned that way. Sure enough, a tan parchment was pinned into the cork. Intrigued, she walked over.

She pulled the paper off and read it, Rafael looking over her shoulder.

***

~ Mythic Quest ~

The Restoration of Vanguard, Stage One

For nigh one hundred years the guild that shepherded the world through seven earth-rending Cataclysms has lain dormant—its treasures lost with it. Now, the last of that noble organization returns. What was lost cannot always be reclaimed, but what has been broken may yet be forged anew.

Though nightmares linger behind, more may lie ahead. There will always be need for a Vanguard.

Task:

- Locate one prior craftsman of Vanguard and reinduct them into its ranks. {0/1}

Rewards:

- Progress Guild Tier from zero to one.

- Regain access to the Craftsmen Quarters.

- One item harvested from the Umbral Regent will be reforged into a Lv.2000 relic with no level requirement.

***

They stood in silence as they digested the words.

“A System-granted quest,” Rafael finally said. “Rated mythic.”

“The task doesn’t seem especially difficult,” Vivi said slowly. “Just one craftsman?”

“Indeed. And the reward is…” He paused. “Significant.” His brow furrowed. “The implication that the Craftsmen Quarters are locked, though, is concerning. As is how the guild’s tier has been reset to zero.”

“The vault,” Vivi said in sudden realization. “Is the vault gone?”

She’d been delighted to find her personal storage intact. But would that luck hold for the guild’s vault? She knew the answer before she made her way across the common room, down a staircase, and to the end of the cellar. The thick metal door stood there, at least. The vault hadn’t simply been erased. But when she tried turning the handle, it didn’t budge.

“That’s unfortunate,” Rafael said.

Vivi stepped back and considered the heavily defended vault entrance.

“Please don’t forcefully remove the door, Lady Vivisari. This vulnerable steward of yours is made of mere flesh and bone.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Vivi said, embarrassed that the idea had, indeed, crossed her mind. She would’ve protected him though, of course. “What does this mean?”

“The vault is inaccessible. Which is not ideal. I would be more displeased if not for the extremely generous quest reward. Likely to become quests, since it spoke of ‘stage one’. And if the rewards are similar…” He trailed off, giving her a meaningful look.

He had a point. Though upset that the immense store of valuables hidden in the guild’s vaults was barred from her, the benefits the quest provided might outshine that detriment. So long as the vault did, eventually, reopen once they reached the appropriate tiers.

“A level two thousand relic from the first Cataclysm, with its level requirement removed,” Vivi said.

“That would all but transform a person into an upper-ranked Titled, regardless of who they are. To say nothing of granting it to an already powerful individual.” Rafael frowned at the vault door, red eyes sharp and excited. Vivi could see the calculations happening inside his head. “I hesitate to make assumptions, but if the first quest empowers a relic of the first Cataclysm?”

“The second might empower something from the Reaper of the Lost Harvest,” Vivi said.

“And so on. A series of quests meant to help restore Vanguard, and even empower it, by the end. This is troubling though.”

“Troubling?”

“For the gods to favor us, there must be need.”

That sobered her up.

Rafael gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “And I suspect you have an inkling of what that may be, Lady Vivisari. More than I, at least.”

“I might. We do need to talk.”

“Now that your identity is proven, I am your loyal steward as always,” he said, flourishing a slightly sarcastic bow. When he straightened out, he seemed alive, energetic. Vibrating with excitement at this development. “Shall we convene in the steward’s office? The charter, perhaps, will illuminate what has happened. It is a good starting point, in any case.”

She followed him out of the cellar, into the common room, and through a door attached to a corner of the large main space. Inside was a prototypical office: bookshelves, filing cabinets, and a chair situated behind a desk. Rafael walked around, scooted the chair out, and knelt down to rummage through the drawers.

He pulled out a clipboard with a pinned stack of papers and scanned the first page. After a moment, he flipped it up and perused the next. He dropped the clipboard and looked at Vivi, wearing a small frown.

“You’re the registered Guildmaster, and I the steward. That hasn’t changed. Everyone else has been removed. There is no mention of any of the craftsmen, and the guild has indeed reverted to tier zero.”

“Is that normal?”

“Nothing about this is normal. Nothing about Vanguard is normal.” He walked over and opened a filing cabinet. Then another, and several more. “My records have vanished. The guild has been reset almost back to its beginning. Or, rather, restricted. Since the Craftsmen Quarters will open as soon as we bring a single one of our members back, and the structure itself seems unchanged. I do think, regardless of temporary setback, that this is a boon.”

A level 2000 relic forged from a Cataclysm would, indeed, probably outweigh a delay from immediately accessing the guild’s storage. Even she couldn’t remove an item’s level requirement.

“And the contents of the vault?”

“Locked away until the proper tier has been reached, is my best guess.” He shrugged, slipping into his chair. “But maybe everything is gone. That would be a disappointment. There’s no way of saying.” Vivi dragged over the spare seat and sat too. Rafael drummed his fingers against his desk. “While discussing how the guild’s renewal might function is interesting, there are far more pressing topics, Lady Vivisari. Let us set that aside. Where have you been all these years?”

She considered him, then gave a purposefully blunt response. Mostly to see how he would react. She was still disappointed he hadn’t so much as twitched at her dramatic reveal back at his office.

“An alternate reality.”

To her extremely begrudging admiration, he asked smoothly, “What sort?” After a second, he added, “That does neatly explain the divination results.”

“Winston said the same thing. And, I’m sorry, Rafael, but the details are private.”

“Oh? Far be it from me to pry into a woman’s personal matters, but this seems relevant on a grander scale. Might I insist?”

She frowned. He had a point. But she didn’t want to explain Earth…and that she wasn’t really Vivisari, just an alternate version of her, or however it worked.

“The details don’t matter. Just know I wasn’t present in this world for the past century. I returned two days ago in the Burial Room of the Ashen Hierophant, gated to Prismarche, was involved with…some minor incidents…”

“As one does,” Rafael said, and she heard subdued amusement in his voice.

“And that same night—”

“The Centennial Peace Day,” he said, more to himself.

“—a massive dimensional spell, beyond tier twenty, tried to puncture a gateway into this world. Or that’s what I think happened. The Institute should be studying it as we speak.”

He leaned back in his chair, considering. Even the ridiculous nature of what she’d said hadn’t fazed him. His composure wasn’t the same stony sort as the White Gloves; his mind clearly worked differently from most. He had digested the absurd news and begun analyzing it without a moment of disbelief.

This was a terrifyingly competent man, Vivi recognized, and she needed to remember that. She had no reason to think his loyalties had shifted, and if she were to pick someone to rely on, it should be her old steward. But still. With Rafael, caution was warranted. He could run circles around her when it came to plotting; she knew that without a shred of doubt.

“It also explains the information I’ve been receiving,” he said. “Something has the grand magi and archmagi in an uproar. My informants have failed to work out what yet. A massive dimensional spell at Prismarche? Yes, that fits.” He studied her. “Why didn’t you warp to Meridian?”

“My anchors were gone.”

“Send a message?”

“I had no contacts in Prismarche.”

“You could have circumvented these limitations, and all others. Not to state the obvious, but you are the Sorceress of the Party of Heroes.”

She pursed her lips. “I was in no rush,” she finally admitted.

He raised his eyebrows, and she added, “There’s nothing that makes me think a disaster is imminent. Even the dimensional anomaly could be a coincidence. Only timing suggests otherwise.”

He gave her a dubious look.

“Though timing is evidence in itself,” she sighed. “And if I’m right about it being a gateway, we need to worry who made it, and why. It’s worth researching, though I barely know where to begin. That’s why I contacted the Institute, and mentioned it to you. I’ll be looking into it on my own time, unless you have something meaningful to add.”

He spread his hands, seeming regretful. “Alas, there are some rooms even I cannot slip an informant, and a meeting of sitting archmagi is one such. That I discovered a meaningful disruption in their activities at all is more than nearly any other individual in the city would have been capable of.”

“Don’t be too humble, now.”

He smiled. “I would never. I know my worth and will state it.”

On most people, it would seem like arrogance. But she found his self-assuredness comforting. She needed someone competent on her side—especially when he was competent in the exact ways she wasn’t.

“Well, I’ll keep you up to date on what’s happening there,” she said. “But I don’t have anything to say until I visit the Institute. Never mind that, for now. I want to know what happened to Vanguard. Not the guild, but our members. Where are they?”