The Greenwater town is a typical small frontier community.
It gets its name from the moss-covered stream that passes through the town's center.
The Adventurers' Guild was usually the noisiest place in a frontier town like this.
To the northwest of the town is a sizable forest known as Sandalwood Forest.
There are many valuable items there, but it's a dangerous and unpredictable place.
Legend has it that the forest is home to both valuable medicinal herbs and ferocious animals.
There are even rumors that a terrifying demon beast resides in the sandalwood grove.
Because of this, a lot of adventurers gather here, striving to challenge powerful monsters and earn generous bounties. The Adventurers' Guild has therefore remained active ever since.
But today, something has a little different.
A large group of people crowded the entrance to the Adventurers' Guild, yet no one was entering the building.
Poking through the gaps in the crowd, a lady clad in black could be seen standing in the guild's main hall.
She exuded an intimidating presence, clearly meant no good.
"Sara! My girl! You have no idea how important that thing is to me!"
The voice cut through the hall like something scraping metal.
Old. Hoarse. Loud enough to hurt.
"Just tell me one thing—can the guild take my request, or not?!"
Even people outside on the street stopped walking.
Inside, Sara looked like she wanted to disappear.
As a member of staff at the Guild, Miss Sara is very enthusiastic and always keen to help, but she isn't very good at rejecting people.
So, faced with the overbearing Moira, she found herself completely on the back foot.
"Ms. Moira… please," she said, lowering her voice. "There are a lot of people watching. Could you calm down...maybe just a little…?"
Wrong choice of words.
Moira slammed her hand on the counter.
"Calm down?" she barked, like a crazy dog. "If it was your house that got robbed, you think you'd be calm?!"
Sara froze.
This wasn't the "nice old lady" kind of trouble.
This was that Moira.
Not Mahayel's kind-hearted grandma, but the one people talked about.
Strange. Unpredictable. Impossible to deal with.
This is the impression Moira has left on people in this day and age.
More people gathered here.
Of course they did.
Moira turned with them watching and raised both hands.
"Look at me!" she shouted. "Look at this poor old woman!"
No one moved.
"I got robbed! Robbed!" she yelled again. "That damned thief—!"
A few adventurers exchanged looks.
They knew her.
Everyone around here did.
Moira was a potion vendor. favorable ones. They were also strange, but they were effective.
The majority of people in this room had at least once consumed one of her creations.
And now she was claiming to have been robbed?
The odd part was that.
For the most part, Moira was broke.
For years, the same robe. It smelled as though something had died.
An old woman who looks rather shabby. What was there to steal?
"Listen up!"
Moira grabbed a paper from the counter and held it up.
"I'm putting out a bounty. Five hundred gold coins."
The number was written big. Gold ink. The text itself looks just as enticing as the meaning it expresses.
People went quiet.
Five hundred.
That wasn't little money.
Most jobs here just paid a few gold.
Ten gold for hunting monsters, maybe.
But no one has ever been willing to offer a reward of 500 gold coins, not even the wealthiest of the wealthy have ever put that figure on the table.
Five hundred, it could buy a house in Greenwater town.
Now everyone was paying attention. Everyone is tempted by this attractive number.
But Moira wasn't done.
She walked straight to the quest board.
Looked at it once.
Snorted.
"Wolves. Herbs. All Useless."
She snapped her fingers.
Just the blink of an eye, something utterly unexpected happened.
The board caught fire.
Just like that.
No chant. No warning.
By the time anyone moved, it was already over.
Everything on it—gone.
Burned clean. All that remained was a blank board.
Moira stepped forward, pulled a nail out, and pinned her own request right in the center.
"There, there." she said. "Now it's the only one."
She turned back to the room.
"Five hundred gold," she repeated. "Bring me what I lost."
Then she left.
Straight out.
On a broom.
No one stopped her.
After a silence so thick you could cut it with a knife.
The noise came back all at once.
"What just happened?"
"She burned the board—"
"Are we supposed to just—?"
A tall elf pushed his way through the crowd.
Leather armor. Travel-worn. New face.
He hadn't been here long.
He is an adventurer who has travelled here. So he didn't know Moira.
But for him, it is didn't matter.
He was in urgent need of completing some bounties to raise funds for himself and his companions' upcoming journey.
After the witch left, he quickly walked straight to the board and read the paper.
"Anything useful?" a voice came from behind him.
Big voice.
Heavy steps.
A dragonborn stepped up beside him.
He had a series of full mental armor. The axe on his back—too huge for most people to even lift.
"Not much," the elf said. "Just says we can ask the witch for details."
He paused.
Then added, "What do you think, Dimashi? shall we taking this?"
"We don't have a choice. Mofi."
The answer didn't come from the dragonborn.
Something small flew out from his armor.
A fairy.
She dragged a coin pouch in both hands and dropped it in front of them.
It made a sad sound.
"Listen," she said. "We're broke."
She shook the pouch.
"Maybe only five coins left. Maybe less."
"Even if we seek to hire the cheapest carriage to our next destination, it will still cost 15 gold coins."
She pointed at the board.
"However, the hope is here. That job is five hundred."
Then staring at them with eager anticipation.
"We take it."
No room to argue.
The elf sighed.
"…Fair enough."
He looked to the side.
"What about you, Dulin?"
A dwarf stood there, arms folded. Beard thick enough to hide half his face.
He didn't say anything.
Just nodded.
"Alright, unanimously approved" the elf nodded.
He took the paper off the board.
Walked to the counter.
Put it down.
"We're taking this job."
The whole hall went quiet again.
People stared.
Some surprised.
Some annoyed.
But no one spoke.
Not with that dragonborn standing there.
Not with that axe.
Sara blinked.
It seemed like she still didn't have recovered from what had just happened.
"Ah… y-yes. Of course…" she said. "Never meet you before. You… you're new here, right?"
"Yeah," the elf said.
He tapped his chest.
"I'm Mofiste. Ranger."
Then pointed.
"Dimashi. Axe Fighter."
Another.
"Dulin. Priest."
He hesitated, then added—
"And that one…"
The fairy crossed her arms mid-air.
"…is Sophia. Druid. Also our accountant."