Finn and Torres had gone in first to report. Torres would give the main report, and Finn would assist him. Enkrid just needed to announce his return.
And so, in front of the barracks. He saw an unexpected person. It was Gilfin.
His clothes were torn here and there, and his face was covered in blue bruises. One of his eyes was half-swollen, though it seemed to be healing, and he limped. It didn't look like his leg was broken.
“Let me see.”
A quick glance suggested a sprained ankle.
“I'm fine.”
A subtle impatience could be heard in Gilfin's tone.
Enkrid nodded.
“What happened?”
This was one of the people Krais managed. Naturally, something must have happened to the Gilfin Guild for him to be in this state.
“He's here.”
“Who?”
“That frog bastard who was in league with the former guild master.”
Ah, Frokk.
There was no need to search his memory. Right, they had said Frokk would come in the spring. This meant he had arrived now.
But wasn't it a little early?
“Start from the beginning.”
He decided to hear the story first. If Krais were dead or it was a real emergency, Gilfin wouldn't be having this conversation; he would have insisted they go at once.
Krais had been eating and sleeping in the city for six days now. Spending a week or so outside the barracks was part of Krais's routine.
Besides.
‘They say we're deploying soon.’