He could not tell how long he had sat stiffly in the chair, staring at the notice but not mentally understanding the words written down. In the quiet room, the fireplace's crackles seemed foreign. Ilrune felt uneasy; as if elven officials would suddenly jump out of the shadows and capture him.
'Stop that. Be rational. Let's see the notice first, then conclude. .... Missing person notice... Over the last century...Young elf... What? Why are they looking for me now?'
He scrutinized the portrait closely. Despite the lack of colours, Ilrune could tell the elf had light skin, hair and eyes. He sported a laid-back grin, his eyes slightly curving as if ridiculing Ilrune's current situation.
'Thank the gods, they got my nose wrong. My hair too...'
His fingers traced lightly over the youth's hair; long, beautiful and well-groomed. It hadn't looked that way in a while, he absently thought.
'Now, there's finally a use for all these extra ingredients.' Ilrune laughed dryly as he glanced at his pouch, closing the newspaper. 'Not only do I have to hide from a city's officials, but also a kingdom. I sure am getting popular...'
'Not to mention that I can't idle in an inn forever. Eventually, I will run out of money and have to look for ways to earn some. This will increase the presence of hidden variables and the possibility of me being discovered. Disguised as an old man, I can reduce the possibilities to twenty percent, including the intervention of unknown factors. If I cannot maintain the disguise, the probability will rise to about ninety percent, since I appear elvish and our race isn't known to wander in the outside lands. They will ultimately guess that I am a criminal or someone who'd rather stay away from the Elven Kingdom, leading them to discover the wanted person notices. There is an eight percent possibility of me not being found out at all, and a ninety-two percent probability that I will be found out in the future, either as a criminal or a missing person...' he spiralled into his thoughts, mentally graphing out the worst scenarios.
'Not to mention the- ouch.' Ilrune held a hand up to his face, feeling a sharp sting and warmth spread underneath.
Without looking at himself, he instinctively knew his skin was bubbling. It was an odd, disturbing sight, not something for the weak-hearted. His skin seemed to squirm in place, and after a brief moment, it settled down again.
Ilrune brought out a mirror from his bag and stared at himself.
Bright eyes bore back without any sign of a mischievous smile. The youthful elf's face would've been considered handsome if he didn't seem gaunt and worn down by life, his black hair a dull reminder of the past. Still, it gave him a certain appeal. The contrast between the lively eyes and the sickly air brought forward the allure of an exhausted fairy.
"..."
Sighing, he dropped the mirror, methodically took the long, thin steel box from earlier, removed the slim syringe it contained, and withdrew a small amount from the glass bottle. Ilrune tilted his head and firmly stuck the needle behind his ear. Then, he turned back to the mirror, waiting patiently.
A strange sight was reflected from the pristine reflection. Ilrune seemed to age in real time; his hair fading to white, his skin drying and sagging, producing pronounced age lines. His eyes also seemed to dull, eyelids drooping lazily as his mouth formed a gentle, placating smile.
He had successfully aged himself, disguising himself as an old man.
'No matter how much I look at the process, it always impresses me.' Ilrune sighed inwardly. 'Pufferfish toxin weakens the muscles and Corroded True Algae steals mana from its surroundings, which is excellent for stimulating the aging process and strength loss that comes with it. Adding the placating Blinking Seagrass and neutralizing the potion's extreme corroding effects with an equally corroding drop of corrupted elf blood... If I sell the recipe, I could become rich.'
Ilrune stuffed his brewing equipment back into his traveller bag. It appeared small, but he had sown in Space Expansion runes, allowing it to contain up to ten times more than its normal capacity.
'It's unfortunate that coupled with the natural side-effects that come with consuming low-grade poison, it also makes one crave clam...' he grimaced.
The familiar face inadvertently caught his attention as he dropped his bag on the ground, reminding him of the prior revelation.
"..."
'The newspaper. With my face on it.'
'Right.'
Ilrune reluctantly picked up the journal.
"Missing person expected to be found dead or alive. He appears elvish, with light skin, golden hair, and bright-coloured eyes. Additionally, he looks to be in his twenties and carries expensive jewelry. Tips or whereabouts will be rewarded. Pertinent information is worth a hundred dames. A location or a picture of the missing person will be rewarded with ten francis sterling. The one who captures the person alive and unharmed and brings him to the Gardenia Tree will be rewarded with a thousand francis sterling."
'They're offering a lot for me... Should I turn myself in to receive the money?' With a serious expression, Ilrune briefly entertained the idea of running away from royal guards. 'I wonder what his face will be when he learns I swindled a thousand francis sterling right out of the royal coffers? Breaking news; Gardenia Tree scammed by a fugitive!'
'...That'll make some news.'
The smile that had begun to creep toward his face was quickly extinguished as he remembered his precocious situation.
'Though, I wouldn't have done that had I not needed money.'
While he wasn't short on money, Ilrune had nevertheless spent a considerable sum paying Perseus, the pirate captain who brought him ingredients for the potion. If he planned on staying in Vilste for a long while, he would need to gain money, not only lose it. Therefore, the missing person article's offer was incredibly tempting.
"I'll have to drop by the Adventurer's Guild later," Ilrune mused as he tore up the newspaper and chucked it into the nearby fireplace. "Let's try to find something interesting this time."
Famous for its third-party services, the Adventurer's Guild was the place for anyone to post and receive commissions. It was the perfect place for people like Ilrune, looking for quick money. The clean wooden surface of the commission boards transitioned seamlessly into brown paper bags filled with attractive wads of banknotes.
***
Ilrune anxiously pressed the felt top hat further on his face. After discovering his face etched in the newspaper, a newfound lingering sense of nervousness followed him. He felt that the second his eyes met someone else's, he'd be immediately met with a "Your Highness?" and a pair of steel-cold restraints.
'Forget that. Focus on getting money.' He hurriedly walked towards the commission board, mildly struggling to maneuver around the dense crowd. Had an explosive been set off, nearly half a hundred people would have been killed from the direct impact, he thought abstractly, then dismissed.
What a strange thought to have.
'Odd. It's extremely crowded today. Is there a special commission?'
"-how ambiguous!"
"To think this is the applying requirement..."
"Quite suspicious, no?"
"S-still, the pay is quite high..."
"You fool! What use would the pay be once we find your dead body?!"
As Ilrune attempted to traverse towards the commission board, whispers and shouted arguments reached his ears. He couldn't help but stop, thinking that the atmosphere was tense, as if the crowd was apprehensively waiting for someone to step up, like a theatre show.
'A high-paying commission? And quite dangerous too... with peculiar requirements. My chances of fulfilling the conditions are low, so let's not bother. Let's see the RL-2 commissions.'
The Adventurers' Guild used a commonly known ranking system to sort their commissions: RL-3, meaning risk level three, which was an ordinary level of danger; RL-2, which presented some danger but was passable; RL-1, which held a good amount of threat potential if one wasn't sufficiently prepared; and RL-0, which was the highest ranking level, having increased danger and risks of mortal injuries or death.
'Sometimes, commissions are mistyped, and one could end up with an RL-1 job instead of an RL-3.'
Ilrune, who only wanted to make money and not get in trouble, exclusively chose second-grade commissions, sometimes including a first-grade one if he judged the danger level low enough. Therefore, he ignored the rumours of the high-ranking commission, which had already been classed RL-0 in his mind. He headed to the less populated side of the commission board and randomly selected RL-2 commissions, familiarly tearing the pinned scrolls off the board.
'Three... four... five should be enough. It's a shame there are so many people around the high-ranking commission... I could've taken a look.'
Ilrune wasn't foolish; he knew he most likely couldn't fulfill the required conditions. Yet, something urged him to take a look—an instinctual response of sorts.
He wasn't a stranger to that feeling—he had heard stories of retired adventurers giving in to their desires and coming out of their seclusion to pick up stray commissions— but it was strange that he was experiencing it. Reasonably, one hiding from a large group of people should strive to avoid the public's eye as much as possible.
'Screw it. I'll take a small peek.'
Pushing the top hat further on his head, he shuffled through the crowd, reaching a point where he could peer at the popular side of the notice board without being constantly pushed around.
The shockingly clean commission stood out against the other posters. Its high quality, free of the grime that accumulated on regular paper, shone like an opportunity sent by the Fated One, the god of luck and destiny.
"Looking for experienced adventurer. Must be no taller than six feet two inches and no shorter than five feet ten inches. Must hold a **lot** of knowledge about plants. Buy three mackerels at the nearest stall if interested. Level: RL-1. Reward: one hundred francis sterlings."
However, the vague commission quickly dampened eager spirits, and strange requirements and roundabout applications mixed into an air of apprehension.
'Even the most greedy adventurers would hesitate to apply. It makes you think: "Something is going on. There might be repercussions. I shouldn't take this commission."'
Ilrune carefully analyzed the commission with furrowed brows, feeling oddly singled out.
'I fit all of the requirements. Next thing I know, they'll ask for an elf. It's also lower ranked than I expected. Should I try applying? I'm guessing it's a disguise mission that might turn sour. With enough preparation, I shouldn't fail. Heh, I'm pretty good at disguises.'
Twisting his mouth in a bitter smile, Ilrune turned around and fought through the waves of people.
'Now, where's the closest fish stall?'
***
A dirty fish stall stood in a grimy street, flies hovering close but never quite able to touch their targets. The pungent smell around made anybody who walked by want to vomit their guts out, and a puddle of water mixed with fish blood formed nearby.
The stall owner had a small hat shoved far onto their face. They appeared to be resting against the wall behind, leaving the stall unattended. But as footsteps resonated through the alleyway, they pushed their hat up to reveal a pair of freezing lilac eyes.
Ilrune, who had loitered around the alley entrance for quite a while, elaborating multiple plans, had finally stepped up to indicate his interest in the commission.
"What kind of fish do you sell?" he said pleasantly as if they were in a regular marketplace, not a dingy alley full of rats and flies.
"Any kind," a youthful voice replied. Piercing and pale eyes gazed at him from below the hat, cold yet beautiful like ice crystals.
"Well, I'd like to purchase three mackerels, please."
"Right on it, sir."
The stall owner reached for a small brown paper bag. It had been pre-packaged and looked out of place, decorated with a white satin ribbon.
Ilrune nodded normally, as if receiving a paper bag when one asked for fish was normal. He picked up the package and strode out unhurriedly.
The stall owner looked down.
Four gold coins sat in her hand.
Distantly, Ilrune's figure cut through the lazy fog, his hurried pace unusually fast as he hastily ran back to the inn, cursing his luck.
Aquila Amyse stared at the sky. It had started to grey out, and rain droplets fell in troves. None of it touched her, as if willed by nature itself. Slowly, her figure shimmered into the void, leaving an after-image of sharp, bright eyes.
"After the storm comes sunlight."