Ah, it was starting to get noisy down there, which meant that new jobs had come in. She'd be sure to take a look at them all in a minute, just as soon as she'd finished reading this latest drivel by Ponthieu. Really, how they let the man continue to write... he could perform all the basics fine, but his grasp of metaphysics was laughable. Yet this was the best that Ithillin was teaching its students until she could find a good time to return and teach people how to [i]actually[/i] approach any magic that tried to consider the soul.

Myrielle was, of course, in the adventuring guild--in particular, in a platform up in the rafters that likely could have been converted to a full attic or another floor had the original designers wanted it, yet instead formed a small island of tranquillity in the main room. Except for when harpies or fairies decided it was polite to fly around indoors and came to bother her. Its existence--along with its precise location just along from the notice board--was no doubt her grandmother's doing. There was scarcely anywhere else to read.

The mage decided to take a look with her reading completed, which meant heading down. She could take the long route and climb along the rafters and down, or simply jump and probably squash someone, or...

It was likely that the swordsmen and healer would be the [i]last[/i] to notice the figure now hanging behind them from a strand of silk, reading the noticeboard upside-down. Exploration, huh? That sounded a lot less tedious than the normal missions to clear out some place or another because the inhabitants were complete failures at even basic pest control.