After spending the night at a nearby inn, Daryl stood at the door to the workshop along with an antsy Liam who, in his intoxication, completely forgot about the bag he brought with him. The last thing Liam could remember regarding where he left it was leaving it by the left wall in Rod's quarters. He brought this to Daryl's attention that morning when they woke up, to which Daryl responded with a dry shrug. The sorcerer's teeth were clenched, and he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for someone to open the door for them after Daryl knocked. "C'mon, open..." Liam murmured.

"It's long gone," Daryl stated, his arms crossed.

"No, it's not!" Liam argued, throwing the swordsman a glare.

"It looked like a sack of garbage," Daryl went on, "someone likely threw it away."

"Shut up!" Liam snapped.

"Or maybe one of the handlers got a hold of it," Daryl continued, "probably sold it for lunch."

"Cut it out!" Liam demanded, and then directing his attention back at the door. "It's gotta be in there. It has to be!"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him, still wondering what was in that bag that was so important to him. As long as he kept it secret, Daryl could not fully trust him. Even if things went awry, though, Daryl was sure that he could defeat Liam. He recalled the way Liam shrank away from him when he told him how he got his title, and he knew that the sorcerer was not as confident in his abilities as he had previously let on. The main problem was the possibility of the rest of the Sorcerers' Guild having some nefarious intentions. Daryl had no idea what they might want to gain from this alliance.

The door opened up to reveal Phillip, surprising both Daryl and Liam. He beamed at the swordsman. "Ah, Dauntless! Finally ready to take my job?"

Liam was expecting, and hoping, to see Grace again, while Daryl was expecting someone to at least look through the grille before opening the door to who could have been anybody. In any case, right after Philip greeted Daryl, Liam practically flew past the handler, shoving him to the side of the doorway, and into the workshop in search for his bag.

Daryl reached out after him and called, "Hey! You can't just..." Before he could finish, Liam was already completely out of reach, and most likely out of earshot. He sighed with a low growl and lowered his arm.

Philip looked in the workshop with a bewildered grimace on his face. He looked back at Daryl and asked, "Who in the world was that? Not very polite, is he?"

"Maybe you should watch who you open the door for," Daryl suggested.

Phillip jerked his head back. "Well I'm no door attendant! I only answered because the woman isn't here yet."

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "What you're saying is that Grace is the only one here who knows how the slider works?"

"Bah!" Phillip grunted with a wave of his hand. "I don't need your wit. I need your skill! Come on inside, swordsman! Let us discuss your next job!"

Daryl exhaled and said, "Alright. I guess I've been keeping you waiting long enough."

Philip clasped his hands together with glee, laughed, and exclaimed, "Seems the third time's the charm! Come, come!"

Daryl walked in past Philip as he placed an emphatic hand on his shoulder, escorting him over to a table in the middle of the room. By the table they sat at was an empty space where the table that got smashed used to be, a grim reminder to Daryl that he, Grace, Liam, and even Mallory were all on Garrison's bad side. Grace proved to be a challenge for him the last night, and Daryl had a feeling that Liam could have even held his own for a bit against the giant if he was not inebriated, but Mallory, of course, would be completely defenseless if he ever tried to attack her anytime soon. Through her training, though, he would make sure Mallory would not have to fear any of the other swordsmen again. With his apprentice on his mind, he wondered how she was holding up in his hideout.

"Thank the gods!" Liam cheered, coming out of Rod's quarters wiping the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand and with his precious bag slung over his shoulder.

"Is Rod in there?" Daryl asked, wondering if he got scolded at all for barging in uninvited.

"Yeah, he's sleeping," Liam answered, sitting down next to Daryl.

"Of course he is," Daryl remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway," Liam began, turning his attention to Philip, "what are you guys doing?"

"Conducting business," Philip answered with a glare, most likely due to Liam's behavior from earlier. "Seeing as it is that you're no swordsman, why don't you do him and I a favor and bug off?"

"Hey now!" Liam started, putting an arm around Daryl's shoulder. "For your information, pudgy, Daryl and I are friends! He doesn't mind that I'm here, do you?"

"Not how I'd put it," Daryl responded, straight-faced and refusing to look down at Liam's dopey grin, "but he's right. We're allies now, so I don't mind if he listens in."

"Ha, tell him Daryl!" Liam gloated, pointing a finger in Philip's face.

Philip slapped the sorcerer's finger away and scolded, "Well that doesn't mean you shouldn't have any manners! Are you even gonna apologize about shoving me earlier?"

"Why would I do that?" Liam asked, a genuine curiosity on his face.

"Because it was rude!" Philip explained, his face growing a light red.

"Oh really? Well you just slapped me and told me to bug off. That's rude." Liam shrugged and placed his hands behind his head with a closed grin. "I'd say we're even now."

Philip fumed, a deeper shade of red spreading to his whole face. He slammed his fist on the table and started to yell, "You little—"

"Enough," Daryl interjected. He looked at Liam and ordered, "Show these people some respect. We're on the same side. Act like it."

Liam scoffed and said, "Sure."

Daryl looked back at Philip, whose nostrils were still flared and his skin about as across from him and said, "Relax. He's not gonna cause anymore problems. In fact," Daryl went back to the smug sorcerer at his side with raised eyebrows and continued, "he's going to help with this job."

"What?" As expected, Liam jumped up in his seat, taking his hands off of his head. He jerked himself forward with an incredulous look at Daryl. "I-I can't do that! I'm not a murderer, remember?"

"Who said you'd be murdering anybody?" Daryl retorted. "You didn't even hear what the job entails. Besides, how can we trust you if you're not willing to aid us when we ask for it?"

"This isn't the kind of help I was offering!" Liam argued.

"C'mon, Daryl," Philip chimed in, his face going back to its original color, "the boy's not man enough to get his hands dirty. He'll just get in your way."

"Thank you!" Liam replied, extended a dramatic hand to him. Then, he realized that what Philip said was in no way a compliment and drew his hand back. "Except, y'know, that part about me not being a man."

"What's the job, Philip?" Daryl finally asked, growing impatient with Philip and Liam's bickering. "Maybe we can make up our minds if we hear you out first."

Philip straightened his mouth and his eyes darted back and forth between Daryl and Liam. With a reluctant sigh, he started, "Alright then. About the job, it's a petty one, like the one you carried out a month ago. But you'll find this one a bit more difficult, I'm sure. It'll be worth your while, though. An older woman by the name of Henrietta Stanford, you can call her Miss Stanford, got her necklace stolen by a man whose face was covered with brown scarves. His head was covered, too, so we couldn't figure out his hair color. On the other hand, she did say he had distinctive, hazel eyes. His skin seemed pale. When he snatched it off of her, he ran off south of Autumnfront. It happened a week ago. It's quite possible he sold it already, or he may still have it, that's up to you to find out."

"I see..." Daryl replied, rubbing his chin and digesting the information. "How expensive is the necklace?"

"She told me it was worth about a hundred tokens."

"A hundred?" Liam asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Good grief, who in their right mind spends that much for a necklace? Lady's gotta be off her rocker!"

"She didn't spend a single token for that necklace, moron," Philip sneered, "it's a family heirloom. Said it was passed down to each daughter in her family ever since her great-great grandmother. It's very important to her. So important, actually, that she's willing to pay even more if you bring her the thief's head."

"She'll what?" Liam yelled, turning heads in their direction.

Daryl took a breath and rolled his head back, trying to avoid eye contact with the onlookers.

Philip put a firm finger to his lips and angrily shushed Liam.

Liam's eyes darted back and forth at the mad and annoyed faces of other handlers and swordsmen alike. One of the swordsmen had a long, diamond shaped scar that ran from his scalp down his eye and ended at his jawline. The scar was bright red, as if he just got it on the same day. His eye almost looked completely white, his iris being the faintest shade of blue. He looked at Liam with a nasty snarl. The sorcerer whipped his gaze back to Philip shortly after making eye contact with the scarred swordsman with a hard gulp. Liam straightened one corner of his mouth and looked down. "Man, I forget that's a normal thing for you guys... Lady really is mad."

"So back to the necklace," Daryl started, giving Liam a harsh side eye and then looking back to his handler, "did she tell you what it looked like?"

"It was decorated with a turquoise gem," Philip answered. "Quite the valuable stone from what she told me."

Daryl nodded. "How much more will she pay for the thief's head?"

"Daryl!" Liam complained. "You're seriously gonna murder this guy?"

"If it pays well enough, then yes," Daryl answered.

Liam leaned away from Daryl with a disgusted look on his face.

"You already knew I killed people," Daryl acknowledged, remembering one of Liam's first questions for him being about how many people Daryl killed in his time as a swordsman. "Why are you acting so surprised now?"

"I mean..." Liam began, with a bared-teeth grimace and his eyes shifted to the side. "It's just...different. Seeing this all play out in person."

"To answer your question, Dauntless," Philip interjected with clear exasperation in his tone, "getting the necklace back will be a hundred and fifty tokens. One hundred for the necklace, the extra fifty for going through the trouble of finding it. If you bring the thief's head, the reward is doubled. You'll be making three hundred tokens at the most."

Liam's eyes widened at the reward amount. Three hundred tokens for one job? No wonder so many people turned into murderers here...

"That's good," Daryl noted. "Does she have a deadline?"

"Sometime within the next two months," Philip answered.

"Alright then," the swordsman replied, extending his hand for a handshake, "I'll take it."

Philip chuckled and gave Daryl a firm handshake. "Ah, there's my favorite swordsman! I'm sure I'll have nothing to fear with a man like you on the job!"

When they stopped shaking hands, Daryl motioned to Liam and said, "You, too. Shake his hand."

Liam and Philip jerked their heads back almost simultaneously, still wanting nothing to do with each other. They both felt a strong urge to ask why, but the answer was obvious enough. They glowered at one another for a moment, and then reluctantly shook hands.

A couple seconds into shaking hands, a devilish smirk spread on Liam's face and he tensed up two of his fingers in Philip's grasp. From the tips of his fingers he sent a jolt of electricity into Philip's wrist.

Philip yanked his hand away and jerked back in his seat feeling the shock go up to the center of his forearm in an instant. He swayed his arm back and forth and glared at Liam with gritted teeth. "What did you do to me?"

Liam shrugged, an evident grin on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Philip growled and sprang up from his seat. "Dauntless," he started, a hard frown still on his face, "let me know when you're ready to meet Miss Stanford. I'll take you to her."

"Thank you," Daryl replied, and then huffed looking down at Liam's relaxed disposition. "And I'll make sure he'll be on his best behavior."

"Well that's all fine and dandy," Philip responded, "but I'm not taking him anywhere. I can't stand another second with him! So y'know what? Goodbye!" With that, Philip turned around and walked out of the workshop, slamming the door behind him.

Liam chuckled, looked up at Daryl, and started to ask, "Man, what's up his—"

Daryl grabbed the collar of his shirt before he could finish yanked the sorcerer up off the bench. The man would have been suspended in the air if it were not for the tops of his feet slightly resting on the floor beneath him. Daryl held him up so close to his face that the two of them were almost nose to nose. Liam cowered with fear looking up at Daryl's fuming expression. Instinctively, Liam grabbed the swordsman's wrist, not necessarily to resist him, but as a plead for mercy. Even more heads turned in their direction than there were from earlier, this time the men seem more intrigued and thrilled than annoyed. "I'm only going to tell you this once," Daryl started, loud enough for the spectators to hear, "stop causing trouble around here. You've already enraged a few of us, and you almost got some of us killed with your carelessness."

Liam's eyes widened with confusion on his remark about almost getting people killed. "Wait, what—"

"Shut up," Daryl ordered, Liam's head jerking back and gulping in response. "Let me make this clear. Next time I catch you starting any more problems with anyone else here, I'll slice off your bottom jaw so quickly, you won't even be able to move your hands fast enough to shock me with your lightning. Understand?" There was a murmur among the men after hearing Daryl mention Liam's lightning. Daryl noticed their reactions and knew not to say anymore of it. They'll know soon enough, but I'll wait for Rod to make his announcement.

Liam readily nodded his head and answered, "Y-yeah, sure, I understand!"

With that response, Daryl let go of him with a light push, sending him to the floor and landing on his backside. After mentioning the previous night to Liam, it reminded him of Mallory as one of the people who almost died. Daryl figured it would be a good time to let the girl out of her temporary dungeon. He turned to the end of the workshop, where the double doors to the training grounds were. Aside from the puzzled questions people asked each other about what Daryl meant about the lightning, he noticed some people were snickering at Liam's pathetic disposition. Seeing Liam on his butt like that made it hard for Daryl to believe that he was still a powerful sorcerer. The sight almost made Daryl feel a bit bad for being so harsh. The swordsman turned back to the other members of the guilds who were seeming to mock Liam, and declared, "The same goes for the lot of you, too."

Their faces dropped at Daryl's warning, knowing full well that he was one of the best in the guild.

"If I catch any of you pestering him," Daryl continued, "you'll have to answer to me."

Liam lightened up a little upon Daryl's threat to the rest of the guild. It made him feel a little better to know that Daryl would protect him from others if need be, until another thought crossed his mind. That threat wasn't nearly as terrifying as the one he gave me!

"Yeah?" one of them spoke up. Daryl looked back to see the man with the scar who had glared at Liam earlier. His grimace grew into a snarl-like side smile, and he continued, "Does that include Garrison the Gargantuan? 'Cause I heard he almost killed ya both last night. Doesn't seem like you'd have what it takes if he tried it again, huh?"

"Huh?" Liam blurted out. Gary the what almost killed Daryl and who, now?

Daryl grunted. "You might have a point. But I'd certainly have no problems with you."

"Is that right?" he hissed back, bolting out of his seat and started walking up to Daryl. The man was about average height but compared to Daryl he looked very short. His body was toned with muscles, so despite his height, he still looked intimidating. He kept that snarling grin on his face, wincing as if the right side of his smile was irritating his scar. His upper body moved up and down with a chuckle. "So then, ya think you can stop me from doin' this?"

The man turned to his left to face Liam, and then he lunged toward him with a long stride. Liam put his arms up in response, baring his teeth with spurts of electricity coming from his fingertips. The man raised his foot to kick Liam, but before he could, Daryl grabbed him by the back of his shirt. The sorcerer quickly put his arms down, glad that Daryl intervened and hoping no one noticed the lightning that came out of his fingertips in that brief second.

With all his strength, Daryl yanked the man backwards. His whole body flew through the air, Daryl intercepting his trajectory by grabbing him by the neck and slamming him down onto the table without sending him through it. Daryl definitely did not want to break another table. Rather than squirming and trying to get Daryl's hand off of him as Daryl expected him to do, he drew his sword from the scabbard at his side and swung it towards Daryl's face. The sword was crafted like a long sawblade, with grooves that protruded sharp points all throughout the metal. Even in his surprise, Daryl managed to draw his own sword with his free hand in the nick of time, sending it toward the scarred man's weapon to block a fatal blow. Their weapons trembled against the force of one another's struggle. Daryl's blade was caught in between one of the grooves in the other man's sword.

His astonishment must have shown on Daryl's face, because the other swordsman croaked out a laugh, even with Daryl's hand around his neck. "That would've been pretty messy," the man gloated, "huh, Dauntless? Maybe you shouldn't underestimate your fellow swordsmen! I'm already better than you anyway!"

Berating me while I have my hand on his neck, taking a slash at me after getting slammed against hardwood...Braden the Brash, indeed.

Braden shifted his blade upwards, trying to push Daryl's sword out of his grasp, a trick he was always able to pull off with his sword. In that moment, however, Daryl's sword would not budge. Daryl's grip was too strong. Braden looked a little shocked himself noticing Daryl's strength, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open.

Daryl straightened his expression and lowered himself toward Braden's face. He raised his eyebrows and asked, "Are you sure about that?" In an instant, Daryl shot his upper body upward, releasing his grip on Braden's neck, while at the same time forcing his sword downward against his opponent's sword. A few of the sharp edges made by the grooves in Braden's sword made their way into his chest.

With Braden's resistance, though, the cuts into his body were fairly shallow, some spurts of blood leaking through his navy-blue garments. He grunted with anger and pain, and then he raised his feet to Daryl's stomach. He bent his knees and sent his legs forward, pushing Daryl back and giving him room to leap back onto his feet and take the edge of his sword out of his chest. As soon as the scarred swordsman stood back upright, though, he found himself looking down at the edge of Daryl's sword on his neck, making a shallow, red slit. He felt Daryl's hand on the back of his head, its firm grip threatening to press him down further into the blade and decapitate him. A thin trail of crimson liquid trickled down the blade's silver edge, Braden seeing his own mortified reflection in it. He slowly looked up to see the towering swordsman glaring into his eyes, a look that told him he clearly lost this fight.

Seeing Braden's broken expression, Daryl lifted his hand off of his head and took his sword away from his neck, leaving him standing there speechless. "So," Daryl started, pulling out a hand towel from his robe and wiping his sword down, "was that threatening enough for you?"

Liam watched Daryl in awe at how he was able to stop the guy dead in his tracks. His mouth was wide open, slowly spreading into an open grin of excitement. That. Was. Awesome!

Braden put his hand on his neck and pulled it back to watch the blood run across his fingers, completely dazed at how swiftly Daryl was able to move at his size. His breathing started getting faster, an angrier expression forming on his face.

Daryl sheathed his weapon and turned around, starting to walk away. "You're good," Daryl acknowledged. "Maybe you will surpass me one day. But you're overestimating yourself. Try not to do that."

Braden growled at that last remark and yelled, "This doesn't prove anything! If you didn't get me from behind, I woulda beat you! Don't forget that I'm high ranking, too!"

Daryl waved a hand at him as he continued to walk off. "That attitude got you your title, but it also got you your scar."

Braden jerked his head back and raised his eyebrows, almost as if that last remark resonated with him somehow. He then whipped his look away from Daryl with a huff, trying to retain what little dignity he had left. "Whatever," he grumbled, wiping the droplets of blood on his sword against his pant leg. He rubbed the cuts in his chest and walked away with his handler, who finally got up and followed him out the door of the workshop.

There was another murmur amongst the men as Daryl walked off, some of them, mainly the handlers, feeling nervous, while the swordsmen swallowed their pride with reluctant pouts. They already knew Daryl was no pushover but watching him take down someone as wild and menacing as Braden the Brash, with about three hundred kills to his name, reiterated that fact emphatically.

Liam scrambled to his feet and placed his fists on his hips, looking at the men around him with a proud smile. "Ya see that everyone? No more messin' with the new guy, as long as that old guy's around!" he announced.

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head hearing Liam's unnecessary retelling, while the others turned their attention back to their previous conversations.

Noticing Daryl's reaction from behind, Liam grabbed his bag and power walked to Daryl's side. "That was incredible!" he praised. "You really can hold your own in a fight, huh?"

"If I couldn't hold my own in a fight after thirty years of this, I'd have no place here," Daryl explained.

Liam rolled his eyes, still smiling, and replied, "Ah, you know what I meant! I've just never seen you fight before! Seriously, the way you used his own sword against him? Man, that was epic!"

"Hm, I thought you'd be disgusted," Daryl stated, trying to take in Liam's unexpected enthusiasm.

"I mean, if you killed him, then yeah," Liam admitted, "but the squabble was spot on! Almost makes me wanna learn sword fighting!"

"Well we are headed for the training grounds. Maybe you can pick up on a thing or two."

"I said almost," Liam specified, wagging a finger at Daryl, "I'll just leave all that sword fighting to you and..." His eyes widened before he could finish his sentence, as if he just realized something important. He looked around the room and then at Daryl's side, like he was expecting to find something there. "Uh, Daryl?"

"What?" Daryl asked, despite having an idea of what Liam was about to ask, approaching the double doors.

"Where's—"

"You'll see," Daryl interrupted, opening up the doors to the training grounds.