Bran was a city watchman. That meant one of two things. Either he had finally matured and become an upstanding citizen dedicated to the protection of the common folk, or he had finally found a position of authority from which to bully people.

  He leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed, his expression bored but sharp. Otter almost slunk away before Bran spotted him. But then he remembered that he’d stood against real Kaosborn. In comparison, Bran was a pussycat. What did he have to fear?

  Otter knew exactly when Bran saw him. One side of his mouth curled into a sneer. "Well, well. The sewer rat returns."

  Otter exhaled, steadying himself. He wasn’t going to let Bran get under his skin. Not anymore.

  Instead, he offered a small nod. “Bran.”

  Bran arched a brow, waiting for something more. Maybe a scowl, a look of discomfort, or a smart ass reply. Otter didn’t give him the satisfaction.

  Instead, he tilted his head slightly. “I heard about the attack. Glad to see you’re all right.”

  Bran’s smirk faltered. His jaw tightened just a fraction. Then his eyes darkened. He shifted his weight off the post. “What are you trying to say? You calling me a coward?”

  Otter blinked. The sharpness in Bran’s voice, the immediate defensiveness—it wasn’t what he expected. “I—what? No.”

  “I follow orders. I don’t care what anybody says.”

  Otter’s mind reeled, piecing things together. Had Bran done something during the attack that caused people to question his bravery? Had he run away? That would be ironic, considering how he always wanted to prove himself. Although, that might explain the tension in his stance, the way his fists curled at his sides.

  But Otter hadn’t heard any of this firsthand.

  And he wasn’t about to ask.

  “Never said you weren’t,” Otter said evenly.

  Bran scoffed, but there was something uneasy about it. He glanced away, toward the busy street, as if expecting someone to be watching.

  Otter adjusted the pouch in his pocket. “Well… good to see you, Bran. Stay safe.”

  Then, before Bran could say anything else, Otter turned and walked away. He felt Bran’s glare burning into his back, but Bran didn’t follow.

  Because he couldn’t. Not while he was on duty.

  Something about that thought left Otter stepping lighter.

  ***

  The Brighthaven Adventurer’s Guild stood near the heart of the city, an old but well-maintained stone building with a large wooden sign bearing the Guild’s crest—a sword crossed with a wand. The double doors were closed, keeping out the chill.

  Otter stood outside for a moment until he saw someone leave the place, reassuring him that it was, in fact, open for business. Then he stepped inside.

  There weren’t a lot of adventurers in Brighthaven. There simply wasn’t much need for them. Brighthaven was a civilized place—a moderate sized trade hub—far from Kaosborn dungeons. Where the foul creatures that had recently attacked the city had come from was anyone’s guess.

  Most adventurers the city saw were only passing through. Perhaps getting orders to visit more remote locations where there was no guild hall.

  But the recent attack meant more activity. A few grizzled looking adventurers perused a a notice board hanging on one wall. Job postings, missing persons reports, and bounties dotted its surface.

  Otter hesitated just inside the threshold. He’d never stepped foot in the guild hall before. He had no reason to—not until now.

  He straightened his shoulders and made his way to the front desk, where a clerk sat behind a broad, ink-stained counter. The man had several day’s worth of beard on his face. He flipped through a heavy logbook, quill in hand, barely sparing a glance at Otter as he stepped forward.

  “Got a contract to file?” the clerk asked without looking up.

  Otter shook his head. “I’m looking for information.”

  The clerk finally lifted his gaze, giving Otter a once-over. “Unless you’re here to post a job or accept one, I don’t have time for questions.”

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  Otter ignored the dismissive tone. “I’m looking for Varek Holloway. I was told he was in Brighthaven recently.”

  That got a reaction. The clerk’s brows lifted, just slightly. “Holloway? The bounty hunter?”

  “Yes.”

  The man leaned back, tapping his quill against the desk. “And what’s your business with him?”

  “I ran into him in Aurelia a while back,” he said truthfully. “I just wanted to know what brought him here.”

  The clerk huffed. “Not exactly your business, kid.”

  “I’m a student at the Adventurers’ Academy,” Otter said, pulling himself up a little taller. “I’m doing research on how bounty hunters operate.”

  It wasn’t a total lie.

  The mention of the Academy seemed to give the clerk pause. “A research project, huh?” He muttered something under his breath, then reached for a smaller logbook. After flipping through a few pages, he tapped a line with his finger.

  “Holloway was in town on Guild business,” the clerk said. “Sanctioned contract.”

  Otter leaned forward. “What kind of contract?”

  The clerk’s mouth twitched. “Restricted.”

  Otter frowned. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. That information is above my rank.” The man shut the book with a heavy thump. “All I can tell you is that he was tracking a person of interest and made several inquiries while he was here. Checked in regularly, like any good contractor does.”

  “And after the attack?”

  The clerk rubbed his jaw. “He stopped. Hasn’t checked in since.”

  Otter felt a sinking feeling in his gut. “Do you know where he went?”

  The clerk shrugged. “Last confirmed sighting was the docks, two nights ago. If he’s left town, he didn’t report it.”

  Otter’s mind raced. Had Holloway fled the city after the attack? Or had he found what he was looking for?

  The clerk studied him for a moment, then exhaled sharply. “Look, kid. If you ever get your own contract, you’ll learn real fast—when a hunter stops reporting in, it means one of two things.”

  Otter met his gaze. “What two things?”

  “Either he caught his target.” The clerk’s expression darkened. “Or his target caught him.”

  The words settled heavy in Otter’s chest.

  He muttered a quick thanks and turned for the door, stepping back into the city streets.

  Holloway had come to Brighthaven tracking someone. Which made sense. He was a bounty hunter, after all. Was it his father? That made less sense. Had Holloway found his quarry? Or had the trail led him away from Brighthaven?

  There were too many possibilities to consider. But Holloway, and whoever had hired him, was the only lead Otter had to go on if he was to unravel the circumstances behind his father’s disappearance. He had to find the man. Had to get more information out of him.

  If he’d last been seen at the docks, maybe he’d hired passage on a boat. That information, Otter knew how to find. No one knew the docks better than he did.

  When he got there, the docks were busy as ever. Sailors, merchants, and dockhands bustled about, shouting orders and loading cargo onto ships preparing to depart. The attack might have paused things for a day, but nothing could truly put a stop to the inevitable call of capitalism and coin.

  Otter weaved through the chaos, eyes scanning the ships moored along the waterfront, wondering if Holloway was aboard one of them. The harbormaster’s office sat on the far end of the docks, a squat stone building with a large wooden sign hanging above the door.

  Otter stepped inside.

  The room was small but cluttered with maps, logs, and shipping manifests. A harried-looking man in a stained vest sat at a desk, quill moving swiftly across parchment. He barely glanced up. “What do you want, Otter?”

  “I’m looking for someone, Master Goad” said Otter with more confidence than he felt. He’d known the man for years. He was a demanding taskmaster, but fair. “A man named Varek Holloway. I heard he booked passage on a ship.”

  The harbormaster finally lifted his gaze, eyes sharp with scrutiny. “What’s your business with him?”

  Otter had already used the Academy student excuse once today. He wasn’t sure it would work again. But he also didn’t want to lie. Goad would probably see right through him.

  “I think he has information about my father.”

  The harbormaster’s countenance softened. “I see.”

  Otter forced a smile and leaned on the counter. “So? Has he left yet?”

  The man exhaled through his nose, reaching for a logbook. He flipped through the pages before stopping at a recent entry.

  “Hmm. Didn’t pay extra for anonymity or discretion. In that case, I see no reason I can’t tell you. Holloway booked passage on the Halestorm. Departs tonight, just after sundown.”

  Otter’s heart quickened. He still had time.

  The harbormaster shut the logbook, then turned an appraising eye on him. “Be careful Otter. That man has a hard look about him. He might be dangerous. But if he knows anything about your father, I know that’s not going to stop you. You’d best hurry. That ship’s heading south—won’t be back for months.”

  Otter nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  If Holloway was leaving tonight, it meant his work in Brighthaven was finished—or something had forced him to abandon it. Either way, Otter needed to act fast.

  As he turned to leave, a familiar notification flashed across his wrisplay.

  New Skill Acquired:

  Investigation   Novice-Lvl 1.

  Otter’s steps slowed. He sure was racking up a lot of skills. He wondered if that was normal. He’d have to ask someone. Maybe Overseer Blackwood could shed some more light on that.

  He barely had time to process it when a familiar voice called out behind him.

  “Otter!”

  He turned to see his mother weaving through the bustling dockside crowd, her shawl drawn tight against the breeze.

  “There you are,” she said, slightly breathless. “I was hoping you’d make an appearance. I need you to do something.”

  Otter blinked. “Um, okay?”

  “I need you to stop by Ethel’s and pick up the linens for Binding Night. I meant to get them earlier, but—” She sighed, shaking her head. “Well, you know how it is this time of year.”

  Otter hesitated. He still had to find Holloway before sundown.

  But it was his mother. And it was just a quick stop.

  He exhaled and nodded. “Alright. I’ll get them.”

  She smiled, relieved. “Thank you, love. And don’t let Ethel talk your ear off. She’ll keep you there all afternoon if you let her.”

  Otter grinned. “No promises.”

  His mother chuckled and gave his arm a squeeze before heading back toward the market.

  Otter lingered for a moment, rolling his shoulders. Halestorm wouldn’t leave for hours. He could afford one detour.

  With a sigh, he turned away from the harbor, heading toward Ethel’s laundry.

  Hans had a realization that changed the direction of his adventuring career: “above average” is different from “great.” At 39 with a litany of lingering injuries, he accepted that he would never progress from Gold-ranked to Diamond-ranked. He plateaued long ago, lacking whatever secret sauce that produced the legendary adventurers he grew up admiring. With his prime behind him and disillusioned by guild politics, Hans accepts a guild master posting in a remote village. Usually, guild masters had to be Diamond-ranked, but the guild was happy to accept Hans’ voluntary exile to fill an insignificant position no one else wanted.

  Looking forward to a quiet life of teaching, Hans arrives in the small town of Gomi at the foot of the Dead End Mountains. As he sets his mind to rebuilding the local chapter of the Adventurers’ Guild, his unconventional teaching methods earn him allies and enemies, while his career failures find ways to resurface.

  This slice of life fantasy explores a life post-adventuring and the challenge of reconciling dreams with reality. The author describes the tone as “if lofi fantasy beats were a LitRPG.”

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  Disclaimer: The version of "cozy" in Dead End Guild Master aims to be more akin to the cozy feelings found in stories like Frieren, Battle Mage Farmer, or Delicious in Dungeon and less like Beware of Chicken (a great book, though). That means conflicts exist and the world isn't bright and cheery all the time, giving the cozy moments a different flavor in one author's opinion.

  What to expect from this series: