The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Desmond stood at the edge of the road, his gaze fixed on the horse-drawn carriage as it slowly vanished into the winding path. A cascade of conflicting emotions tugged at his heart, an intricate tapestry of worry, hope, and uncertainty woven within him.

"I hope you're safe and unharmed, Alice," he whispered softly, his voice carrying a hint of both longing and concern.

As the carriage dissolved into the distance, Desmond's features hardened, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve. The mention of the Guild stirred something deep within him, an unyielding determination that refused to be swayed.

"They claim to be the Guild," he mused, his thoughts laced with a touch of skepticism. "But will they truly live up to their reputation?" The words hung in the air, a silent challenge to the unknown.

With each step he took, his stride grew purposeful, his movements propelled by an unwavering will. The corridor beckoned, guiding him towards the library room, a sanctuary of knowledge where his inquiries could begin.

Within the hallowed halls of the library, Desmond delved deep into the expansive collection, his gaze scanning the shelves in search of tomes that held the secrets of the Raven Soul guild. The scent of aged parchment and the faint aroma of leather bindings mingled in the air, filling his senses with a comforting familiarity.

Five years had passed since the rebellion, and the guild had risen in prominence, drawing together a diverse assembly of wizards, witches, and skilled swordsmen who sought independence from the kingdom's chains. The leader of the guild, a formidable wizard of either first or second class, commanded respect and awe.

And by their side, a representative, skilled with the blade, ranging from the ranks of the first to the third class, stood as a testament to their martial prowess.

Desmond's fingers traced the spines of numerous books, each containing fragments of information about the guild he sought. He knew that their influence extended far and wide, their headquarters nestled within the Imperial Empire, while branches spanned across every human territory. Their mandate, however, intrigued him the most—they embraced tasks beyond the kingdom's reach.

Caravan escorts, herb searches, monster slayings, and even temporary personal bodyguard services were among their diverse repertoire.

"So, a guild born from the embers of rebellion," Desmond pondered, his mind mulling over the implications. "And their influence spans the entire realm of humankind."

Flipping through pages upon pages, his eyes alighted upon a chapter titled "Noteworthy Mercenaries of the Raven Soul Guild." A spark of curiosity danced in his eyes as he delved further into its contents.

The Steel Legion? Desmond's thoughts flickered with intrigue.

The formation of the second mercenary group was shrouded in tales of a remarkable leader named Veronica, a woman who defied societal expectations and wielded a sword with unrivaled skill. Though her physical stature did not possess the imposing presence of her male counterparts, her ethereal beauty commanded attention.

It was an exceptional guild, for it consisted solely of women, a fact that added another layer of fascination to their existence.

"A guild comprised solely of women," Desmond murmured, his voice laced with admiration and intrigue.

After hours of meticulous analysis, Desmond had acquired a substantial understanding of the guild's prominence in the world. A plan began to form within his mind's recesses, born from the seeds of knowledge he had sown. "Perhaps I shall submit a request to the guild," he contemplated.

His lips curled into a wistful smile as he imagined an alternate life, one where he was not born into wealth and privilege. In that realm of possibility, he envisioned himself as an adventurer, traversing the lands under the guild's banner, seeking fortune and excitement.

He clapped his hands thrice, the sharp sound reverberating through the room, summoning a faithful servant to his side.

"Yes, young master?" the servant inquired, bowing respectfully.

"Submit a request to the guild," Desmond commanded, his voice laced with a sense of purpose. "Inquire into the individuals involved in the kidnapping of the child, unmasking whether it is the machinations of a sinister organization. Offer a generous reward of fifty gold coins per implicated group."

The servant nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the task, before retreating to fulfill the young master's instructions. Desmond's family had amassed wealth and prosperity through the military triumphs of Leona and Bastian, affording him the privilege of sparing no expense in his pursuit of justice and the safe return of the kidnapped child.

The next day dawned with bustling activity within the opulent halls of the king's residence. The grand doors to the throne room swung open, and a figure adorned in regal robes and a jeweled crown entered the chamber. All present in the room bowed their heads in reverence as the sovereign took their rightful seat upon the majestic throne.

With a silent acknowledgement of the monarch's presence, heads gradually lifted, careful not to disturb the solemnity that hung in the air. One among them, a man clad in sturdy armor, stepped forward, bending at the waist and crossing his arms respectfully over his chest.

"Your Majesty, Sanders, the Minister of Defense, humbly seeks your approval to deliver today's report," he spoke with deference, awaiting the monarch's response.

"Permission granted," Edward, the recently arrived ruler, announced, his voice carrying authority and approval as it echoed through the chamber.

Sanders straightened himself, his gaze fixed upon the king. With measured steps, he produced a collection of parchment-filled boards, each page bearing the weight of vital information. "Today, we have two significant endeavors planned," he began, his voice projecting clarity and purpose.

"Firstly, our diligent patrol team shall safeguard both the inner and outer city areas, remaining vigilant against potential assassin incursions from the Imperial Empire. Secondly, our dedicated investigation team will delve deeper into the mysterious cases of disappearances and diminishing numbers of demons, incidents that have plagued us for the past three years."

With his report concluded, Sanders took a respectful step back, retreating to his original position amidst the assembly.

The room fell into a hushed silence, the weight of Sanders' words sinking into the hearts of those present. While the threat of assassins had been known, the revelation of missing assets and enslaved beings caught many off guard. Suddenly, a figure stepped forward, gracefully bowing before the king.

"Holmes, the Prime Minister of Royal Management, humbly requests your approval to voice objections regarding Prime Minister Sanders' statement," he stated, his voice laced with a mixture of formality and conviction.

"Approval granted," Edward responded, his interest piqued as he gestured with a wave of his hand.

Bearing the weight of his newfound permission, Holmes turned his gaze to Sanders, a smile curling upon his lips as he observed the minister's visage, etched with difficulty.

"Indeed, Prime Minister Holmes," Sanders retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

"While it is true that delving into past cases may seem unwarranted, we recently received a report indicating striking similarities between the recent incidents and a case that unfolded three years ago." The minister's frown deepened, unease clouding his expression as he noticed the satisfaction gleaming in Holmes' eyes.

Edward, too, absorbed the revelation, his countenance shifting with a mixture of concern and displeasure.

"And what of this case from three years past? Have you failed to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion? Is this how you manage the nation's defense?" Holmes seized upon the opportunity, his voice laced with triumph, aiming to undermine his rival.

"Mind your words, Prime Minister Holmes. We are in the presence of the throne," Sanders countered, his voice steady, yet brimming with warning.

"For three long years, we have pursued this investigation, yet not a single citizen has borne witness to these incidents. Only two days ago did we receive a report from residents who discovered a series of mutilated bodies in a nearby alley," Sanders explained, his tone laced with a mix of frustration and determination.

His suspicions had been confirmed—the deranged killer seemed to be linked to the enigmatic disappearances of demons from years prior.

The gruesome details flooded the minds of those present, eliciting a collective shudder at the memory of the report. The bodies, their forms grotesquely disfigured, bore the scars of a sadistic hand. No one was spared from the killer's wrath—men and women alike, reduced to macabre displays of mutilation. Entrails spilled forth, bodies rent in two, a horror that defied imagination.

"It is a testament to the incompetence of—"

"Enough!" Edward's voice thundered through the throne room, cutting off the brewing storm of discord. His eyes blazed with fury as he directed a piercing glare at Holmes, his aura thick with an undercurrent of menace. "This is the throne room, and I will not tolerate further insults or vilification of those within. Sanders, you have one year to resolve this matter.

Failure will result in the reduction or complete withdrawal of your salary and resources. And as for you, Holmes, your repeated disparagement of the throne room's occupants warrants your immediate dismissal from this chamber."

Holmes and Sanders swiftly bowed, their words infused with contrition. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. We shall not transgress again."

"Very well. Today's meeting has concluded," Edward declared, his countenance marked by discomfort. The morning's proceedings had cast a shadow over his spirit, dampening the joy he sought in sharing a meal with his family. With a heavy heart, he rose from his seat and exited the throne room, leaving behind an atmosphere tinged with unresolved tension.