The heavy silence in the Guild hallway pressed in on William, thick with the ghosts of strategy and desperation left behind by Borin and the Lord Marshal. Julia sat beside him on the worn wooden bench, the storm of the meeting having passed, leaving behind a landscape of weary resolve. The intel she’d relayed, Oakenfall a grinding siege, likely a feint. Lumenar, the isolationist elven kingdom, the suspected true target, churned in William’s mind, demanding processing power he barely had.

  Borin’s proposed counter. A high-risk, low-probability gamble. A small team, punching through goblin-infested Tallenwood, tasked with reaching Lumenar and forging an alliance that history suggested was impossible.

  Right, William’s internal analyst immediately kicked in, ignoring the nausea coiling in his gut. Mission Parameters: Infiltration, Diplomatic Engagement. Environment: Actively Hostile (High Density Enemy Forces). Target Profile: Isolationist, Low Historical Cooperation Metrics. Risk Assessment: Extreme. Probability of success based on known variables… frankly, requires significant positive variance to even register above rounding error. This wasn't just a Hail Mary pass. It was throwing it from your own end zone, blindfolded, into a hurricane, hoping a friendly eagle catches it.

  He glanced at Julia. The profound exhaustion was still visible, etched beneath her eyes like faint ink stains, but the shock had solidified into a troubled determination. Her usual vibrant energy felt muted, banked like embers after a fire.

  “So,” William broke the quiet, his voice carefully neutral, seeking data. “This… expedition to Lumenar. It’s happening? Who… who is Borin sending?” He needed the team composition. Evaluating the assets allocated to this suicide mission was critical.

  Julia drew a slow breath, the sigh heavy with the weight of the decision. “He finalized the core team just after the Marshal left. On paper,” she conceded, leaning forward slightly, her voice regaining some analytical crispness despite the fatigue, “it's arguably the best possible combination for this specific, insane task.”

  She began outlining the members, and William started building the personnel file in his head.

  “First, Jett Shadowfox.” The name registered, A-rank Scout, a rarity. “He knows Tallenwood like the back of his hand. Borin claims he can track a squirrel across bare rock and navigate the deepest woods blindfolded by scent alone.” A flicker of a wry smile touched Julia’s lips. “More practically, he’s had fleeting contact with Lumenar's border sentinels years ago during… unauthorized explorations. Nothing formal, but more interaction than nearly anyone else in Aver. If anyone can slip a team through goblin lines and maybe not get immediately shot by an elf, it's Jett.”

  Asset: Jett Shadowfox. Class: Scout (A-Rank). Skills: Wilderness Navigation (Expert+), Stealth (Expert+), Tracking (Expert+), Enemy Intel (Goblinoid Specialist). Bonus: Elven Border Contact (Low Confidence). Role: Pathfinder, Lead Scout, Early Warning System. William filed it away. Crucial component for infiltration phase.

  “Leading the mission,” Julia continued, her tone shifting to respect, “is Sir Roland. Knight Captain, fiercely loyal to the King. A rock. You saw him briefly with Borin earlier. Veteran of countless campaigns. They say he held the Stonebridge pass against an ogre clan for three hours alone until reinforcements arrived.” She shook her head slightly, as if still finding it hard to believe. “He provides the tactical command, heavy combat capability if stealth fails, and ensures the mission carries the King's official weight.”

  Asset: Sir Roland. Class: Knight Captain (Veteran). Skills: Leadership (High), Melee Combat (Master - Longsword), Tactical Discipline (High), Royal Authority (Representative). Role: Mission Commander, Close Quarters Combat Lead, Team Morale Anchor. William processed. Solid core, handles direct engagement and command structure.

  “The third member...” Julia hesitated, a complex mix of respect and concern warring on her face. “Is Prince Caspian.”

  William blinked. “Prince Caspian Aver? The King’s third son? The scholar?”

  “The very same,” Julia confirmed. “He's dedicated years to studying elven history, language fragments, cultural protocols. His knowledge is… exhaustive. He won't be fluent, nobody outside Lumenar truly is, but he understands enough archaic Elven greetings and honorifics to, hopefully, navigate the initial diplomatic minefield without causing a fatal incident.” She sighed, the sound thin. “His presence signifies this is a formal delegation from the throne itself, not just a Guild side-project. But… he’s not a fighter, William. At all. Protecting him becomes a secondary objective in itself.”

  Asset: Prince Caspian Aver. Class: Noble/Scholar. Skills: Diplomacy (Theoretical), Elven Lore (Expert), Linguistics (Archaic Elven - Basic/Formal), Royal Legitimacy (High). Vulnerability: Combat Effectiveness (Negligible). Role: Lead Diplomat, Lore Specialist, High-Value Escort Target. William mentally flagged the risk. Essential for the diplomatic phase, but a significant liability during infiltration/combat.

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  “And the final member,” Julia said, her gaze dropping to her hands clasped in her lap. The tension returned to her shoulders. “Borin… requested me. Insisted, actually.”

  William nodded slowly. It made logical sense, but he saw the renewed conflict flicker in her eyes. “Your magic?”

  “Partly,” she conceded, her voice tight. “Offensive capability, crowd control, magical support, things Roland can't provide. But also...” She looked away, towards the grime-streaked window at the end of the hall. “My… background. Despite the rift, the Blackcombe name is known, and I was drilled in court protocols and negotiation tactics from childhood. Borin believes the combination, A-rank mage, familiar with noble customs, might bridge a gap with the notoriously proud elves.” Her jaw tightened. “I argued. Oakenfall needs defenders. Edward, Goran… they’re digging in for hell. But Borin wouldn’t budge. He argued this mission, denying Neverus access to Lumenar's power, is strategically paramount. Worth the risk, he said.”

  Asset: Julia Blackcombe. Class: Mage (A-Rank). Skills: Offensive Magic (High), Defensive/Support Magic (Versatile), Diplomatic Protocol (Noble Training), Potential Name Recognition (High Risk/Reward). Role: Magical Support/DPS, Secondary Diplomat. William completed the file. Internal Conflict: High (Duty to Mission vs. Duty to Comrades/Oakenfall). Forced Deployment.

  He watched her grapple with it, the silent war between her duty to this long-shot mission and her heart pulling her towards the immediate, brutal fight at Oakenfall.

  Okay, run the simulation, William thought, assessing the assembled team. Stealth/Pathfinding: Check (Jett). Command/Heavy Combat: Check (Roland). Diplomacy/Lore: Check (Caspian). Magic/Support: Check (Julia). A balanced loadout, covering key operational requirements for an infiltration/diplomacy profile.

  But the gaps… the uncertainties… they gnawed at him. Tallenwood wasn't just a forest. It was now the Goblin King's staging ground. Jett was good, maybe the best, but detecting every patrol, every ambush, in unfamiliar, actively hostile territory? Roland was a force, but how long could he hold against overwhelming numbers if stealth failed? Caspian was crucial for talks but needed constant protection. Julia was powerful, but torn, and magic had limits, especially her own mana reserves.

  Probability analysis still shows critical failure points, William concluded grimly. Navigating Tallenwood relies heavily on Jett's skills, a single point of failure. Diplomatic success relies on Caspian's knowledge and elven tolerance, both low-confidence variables. The team lacks real-time, adaptive intelligence gathering beyond Jett's senses. No predictive modelling for enemy movement. No objective monitoring of team status under pressure.

  The mission needed an edge. An unexpected variable. Something to mitigate the colossal risks, to shift the probability curve even slightly away from 'certain doom'.

  And then, it clicked. Not a gentle realization, but a sudden surge, like throwing a switch and having a dark room flood with light. EMMA.

  Extraction. Modelling. Manipulation. Analysis.

  His strange, data-driven internal system wasn't just a fancy mana gauge or a step counter. It was an information processing engine.

  He could integrate Jett's pathfinding, creating dynamic, real-time maps of their route through Tallenwood, highlighting potential choke points or ambush zones based on terrain analysis before they walked into them. If they observed goblin patrols, he could potentially model their patterns, predict future movements, optimize their route for maximum stealth, data-driven infiltration. He could monitor the team's vitals, at least visually, providing Roland with objective tactical data on team readiness. Approaching Lumenar, could EMMA analyse sentry patterns? Assess defensive postures from afar? Maybe even... interpret emotional states during negotiations? Feasibility unknown for advanced emotional analysis, requires testing, but basic threat assessment based on posture/grouping seems plausible.

  It wouldn't make the mission safe. It wouldn't guarantee they could talk their way past ancient elven prejudice. The risks remained immense, terrifyingly real. But EMMA offered capabilities no one else had. It was the force multiplier, the analytical edge, the black swan event that could elevate the mission's chance of success from statistically negligible to merely 'highly improbable'.

  A jolt of adrenaline, potent and clarifying, washed through him, scouring away the lingering feelings of F-rank inadequacy. My value proposition isn't sword skills or arcane firepower, he realized with startling clarity. It's information superiority. Real-time analysis. Tactical optimization. Risk mitigation. Back on Earth, he crunched numbers to optimize investment strategies or predict both user and market behaviour. Child's play compared to this. Here, the dataset was life and death, the stakes a kingdom's survival. The responsibility was crushing, but the potential impact...

  He looked at Julia, truly seeing the crushing weight on her shoulders, the fear warring with duty in her eyes. He thought of Edward and Goran facing unimaginable horrors at Oakenfall, relying on sheer grit and steel. He thought of his own useless F-rank badge.

  No. Not useless. Not anymore. Not if EMMA could deliver even half of what he theorized. He couldn't stand by and just watch. He couldn't let this team walk into that forest without the one advantage he could offer.

  He had to go. It wasn't about ego, or ambition, or even just staying alive. It was the logical, necessary deployment of a unique, critical asset. He might be F-rank in a melee, easily squashable. But in applied data analysis within a high-risk fantasy scenario? He was bringing S-rank capabilities to the table.

  “Julia,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hallway, startlingly firm. He felt a strange sense of calm settle over him, the clarity of calculated purpose.

  She looked up, surprised by the sudden intensity in his tone. “William? What is it?”

  “The team,” he stated, meeting her gaze directly, his mind already outlining the arguments, the data points, the sheer unmitigated gall required to sell this to Borin and Sir Roland. “It's missing a variable. One more member.”

  Julia frowned, confused. “Who?”

  “Me,” William said, the word hanging in the air, heavy with implication. “I need to be on that expedition.”