Holiday Special: The Mystery of the Missing Guildmaster

“Adventurer, come quick!” Burt beckons furiously from the windowsill.

You give Nessie the last bit of dried fish in your pouch and hurry over, feeling the glowing warmth of the roaring fireplace as you pass by. Allard, resplendent in a frilly apron, is bending over an iron oven hung over the fire, peeking inside with great concentration. You gasp as you take in the sight. Glistening white particles drift across the rooftops of Windrose City, gently swirling as the Windrosian residents below clutch their cloaks about them as they walk.

“Snow!” Burt exclaims, whooping and clapping his hands. “I’ve never seen it snow in Windrose City before, have you?”

You shake your head in wonder.

“Allard, Allard!” Burt calls across the room.

“Not now, Burt,” comes the gruff reply.

“What a party pooper,” Burt mutters and turns back to the window. “How about it, Adventurer? Our first Winterglow together at the Guild!”

You look to where Allard had brought in a wonky pine tree he had cut down at the edge of Spirit Lake. It stands merrily now in the corner of the room with many colorful baubles. How he had dragged it across the land bridge without the water birds tearing him to pieces is anyone’s guess, but you assume that a potential foe would think twice about attacking that golden tank of a whisker.

“Done,” Allard declares. He pulls out a tray from the oven with leather mitts and brings it carefully to the table. “It’s my specialty: double-chocolate raspberry cookies.”

“Oh wow, don’t mind if I do,” Burt says, making a beeline for the table.

“You’re supposed to wait until they’ve cooled down,” Allard says, trying to pull Burt away, but Burt wriggles free and grabs a handful. “And only one before dinner!”

The cookies smell way too good for regular table manners, so you dodge around Allard’s arms as well and take a couple for yourself.

"May I remind you that if anyone brings cookies in here, it's every whisker for themselves," Burt says, his mouth full of cookie. Allard sighs. You break off a piece, cool it down, and give it to Nessie.

“Leave some leftovers; I need them for something,” Allard says. “Anyway, as you said, Burt, it’s snowing outside. In fact, I think it is the first time in about a hundred years that we’ve seen snow in these parts. Maybe it’s a sign of something brewing, or maybe it’s a sign of good luck.”

“You think too much,” Burt says, reaching for one of the cookies Allard is trying to save. Allard slaps his hand and whisks the tray away.

“Enough of these,” he says briskly. “Anyway, minnows such as yourselves shouldn’t be indoors on such a special day. Cozy up and get out of here! Come back in a shade or so.”

He grabs a scarf and wraps it around Burt’s neck many times more than necessary and pulls tight, his biceps rippling. Burt’s face turns purple, and Allard bundles him out of the guild door, waving cheerfully. You scoop up Nessie and follow, thanking Allard for the cookies.

Your excitement grows as you, Burt, and Nessie traipse down the echoing corridor to the front gates of the Adventurer’s Guild. As you emerge into the courtyard, the frigid air grips your face. The snowflakes have thickened, and you feel each one as it lands on your scales and melts. The ground is now covered in half a foot of snow, and Burt and Nessie have already lolloped away, laughing like crazy. You scoop some snow and form it into a hard ball, and you toss it at full strength at Burt. It hits him square in the stomach.

“I’ll get you for that, Adventurer,” Burt wheezes.

Nessie sticks her head in the snow, trying to hide, but quickly comes back out, shivering. You and Burt have a furious snowball fight. A few whiskers poke their heads out of the guild windows to see what the ruckus is about, and soon enough, half the guild is in the courtyard throwing snow at each other in a boisterous free-for-all.

A couple shades later and the sun is setting, so you and Burt bid your fellow guild whiskers farewell and head back to your own quarters.

“I wonder what Allard was up to?” Burt asks, breathless.

You shrug, but you’re secretly thankful that Allard didn’t join in. You suspect any whisker who took a solid hit from an Allard-propelled snowball would spend Winterglow in the hospital.

The fire is still burning merrily as you enter the quarters. There is no sign of Allard. On the table is a plate of cookies with a note on the side.

“Don’t touch these cookies, Burt, they’re for Santa. I was called away to an urgent meeting, so see you later.’” Burt reads. “Well, I’ll be. Hope he makes it back soon; it’s Winterglow’s Eve.”

But the fire dwindles and Nessie falls fast asleep on her favorite pillow, and you keep turning to see if the bulky frame of the golden whisker will push its way through the door.

“I hope he’s okay,” Burt says. “It’s almost midnight. Should we just go to sleep?”

You nod. Your eyelids have been drooping for over an hour. You are sure Allard is safe and will be back by tomorrow morning. You bid Nessie good night, and you and Burt retire to your sleeping quarters, uneasy in the dark and empty guildmaster’s bedroom.

You awaken groggily to Burt urgently shaking you awake with Nessie on his shoulder.

“There’s a weird sound coming from the common room, but all the lights are out. Nessie ran in here, scared out of her mind.”

You snap to consciousness and get up. You and Burt creep to the doorway. It is indeed dark in the common room.

“I think the sound is coming from the fireplace,” Burt whispers. You ready your hands in the form of an attack spell as Burt does the same, and you both sneak beside the fireplace.

“There’s definitely something up there.” Burt shudders. “And Allard’s not back yet. Remember what he told us? If our quarters are ever threatened, attack first and ask questions later.”

You nod. Burt whispers a countdown, then you and Burt cast every offensive spell you know of up the soot-covered chimney.

“ARGHHHHH!”

You hold out an arm to stop Burt from casting an extra-large Fireball. A shower of thick soot rains down from the chimney, accompanied by tremendous rattling, and the next moment, something huge crashes into the fireplace.

You, Burt, and Nessie scream and jump backwards. The blackened mass, still smoldering from the array of spells it got hit with, picks itself up off the floor. It coughs once and wipes its face.

“I’m proud of you, minnows, for defending our quarters, but it would’ve been better if you could give it a rest during Winterglow.”

“Allard!”

“Ho, ho, ho!” Allard exclaims, a little wobbly on his feet. On closer inspection, you see that the guildmaster is wearing a red Santa suit beneath all the soot. Despite his desolate appearance, he is positively beaming. “It’s the first time in years since I’ve had youngsters in my own guild for Winterglow! The eggnog will taste better than ever this year.”

You look into the guildmaster’s unusually kind eyes, then around the room, which has transformed completely from when you and Burt first stepped foot in it many months ago. As you gaze at the wonky pine tree twinkling with lights, you realize how lonely the old whisker must have been since the collapse of his beloved guild section.

“Allard, you honestly don’t think we still believe in Santa Claus,” Burt says incredulously.

“Shut up, you ungrateful squirt,” Allard says good-naturedly, clapping Burt on the shoulder as hard as he can. Burt flies across the room and crashes into the table, sending the cookies on the plate all over the room. “Look sharp, little Embers. I have presents for you.”

He unslings a burnt sack from his back and tosses a neatly wrapped present to you and Burt. Your arms nearly pop out of their sockets as you catch your parcel. Burt curses as his present hits him in the face. You look tentatively at each other and unwrap your gifts.

“Dumbbells.” Burt looks in disgust as two extremely heavy weights roll out of the box. “Whatever possessed you to think we’d want these?”

Allard rolls about on the floor in merciless laughter. You are about to join in his mirth when Allard suddenly gets up and pulls out a set of his own dumbbells from behind the couch, which are at least four times bigger than yours or Burt’s.

“Grab your weights and line up, minnows. Now, after me! One, two, one, two.”

“It’s four in the morning, Allard,” Burt wails. He can hardly lift his dumbbells off the ground, and you aren’t doing much better.

“Not on my watch!” Allard roars as he continues to move his arms up and down.

And so, you and Burt spend your very first Winterglow at the Adventurer’s Guild pumping iron with their muscle-bound guildmaster in the wee hours of the morning, as Nessie the baby heron happily eats all the cookies strewn across the floor. As they collapse exhausted into their beds at sunrise, you can't help but smile at the new bonds you’ve formed with one another, wondering what Soraya is doing right now, and imagining the new adventures the Great Pond has in store for them all in the coming year.