From the moment he first heard the news, he knew he had a long couple of days ahead of him; At least that was his
estimation from his lengthy experience, though it was under the assumption that the teams sent in to clear out the monstrous incursion were capable enough. It did stand to reason however, considering the level of importance resting on the festival. Mind you, that was his impression even before the onrush of whining merchants barged into the building and demanded he take action.
The amount of self control it took to patiently hear them out aside, Rowan did indeed see little recourse but to issue an open contract for anyone so able to join the village's hunting party, members of which will travel together to the festival grounds and coordinate with other hunting teams to rout the intruding monsters. Applications have been coming in steadily, and it is estimated that around a dozen hunters will be set to depart tomorrow morning.
Till the festival's finally underway, the guild hall would continue to have its hand's full. One couldn't ignore the sheer number of people who came this way only to be stranded due to the delay, and that only meant more problems that needed sorting on top of the usual amount of jobs that always comes their way. It therefore hardly came as a surprise that the guild employees that requested time off for the festival had said petitions temporarily suspended until the predicament was handled, while everyone on the whole saw an increase in their hours. Rowan needed all hands on deck, a matter he made next to no effort to sugarcoat to his staff, though he did mention a fair bonus to their next paychecks.
The frail older gentleman sitting across the table from Rowan chuckled loudly as he lifted the cup of coffee to his white bearded lips, clearly having the more enjoyable time out of the two, having taken to one of his anecdotes that danced around the line between truth and hyperbole. He is known as Mr. (Isaac) Cullen, an old friend of the former guild master, who had agreed to stick around to show a newly arrived Rowan the ins and outs of managing the hall, that is... when he wasn't strolling down memory lane and generally doing his part to ensure his protégé wound up just as bald as he is.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny. And why did you pick here to spend your morning telling stories and not at the pub again?
" Rowan replied, not even bothering to look up from the clipboard of trade documents that an assistant handed to him, many of which needed his sign off. This meeting of theirs wasn't exactly a private one, as to their side were the descending stairs that led to the ground floor of the hall.
"Because my stories are for the ones that need them, and there's no one that needs a good story more than you, hehh heh," the man returned with a wrinkled smile. "Seriously now, you're still the same stick in the mud you were when I first took you under my wing. You know you could have at least invited your dear old teacher to your lovely office so we could reminisce in peace." Cullen leaned forward expectingly with his hand resting on the walking stick at his side, trying to look as innocent as he could.
Rownan did look up from his work at that, though with an annoyed, almost unbelieving look in his eyes. "And have you in the same room as the wine cabinet. Not a chance. Some of us learn from our mistakes, thank you very much.
"You're no fun..." was the old man's dejected retort before taking another sip of his coffee.