My friend Evarilion has been known to be prone to anger from time to time (as I’m afraid I have been known to make an abundant use of euphemisms…). His anger thrives especially between cases, when his brilliant mind lacks focus and purpose. But nothing infuriates him more than the so-called Consulting guild. Evarilion has always claimed that he is the only person practicing the honourable profession of consulting detective, and that he created the concept. And it would be unwise indeed to object to him that the Consulting guild has been active in Laelith for over two centuries. I did once, and I don't want to renew the experience.

- Mere amateurs, Althus! How can you compare the creative practice of the noble art of deduction with the unproductive agitation of this bunch of incompetent fools? How dare you? You’ve been the privileged witness of my maestria of the art for years! Does it count for nothing, you ungrateful old chap? I still can’t swallow that these idiots tried to force me to pay for their ridiculous license. Mark my words: Evarilion Bombogarogan needs nobody’s authorization to perform his art. Do you hear me Althus? Nobody’s! Not even the God-king’s.

- Some of them are not so bad, my friend. Take young Rose for instance. She has solved a few cases, as I’ve been told.

- She got lucky. Nothing more!

I met young Rose MacGuffin a few days after her father's death. He was an eminent member of the Consulting guild, who had met his demise in unsolved circumstances. At the persistent request of his daughter, also member of the guild, the authorities asked me to perform an autopsy. Unfortunately, I was not able to detect any foul play. His death had all the appearances of a simple but lethal cardiac arrest. I felt obliged to inform her of those facts personally. Since then, we kept in touch, and she used my medical services once and a while. She came to visit me a few times in our Bakers Ladder lodging and met Evarilion on these occasions. He disliked her at first sight, as a member of the forever hated guild. She ostensibly ignored him each time, which infuriated him even more, of course. After a few visits, she became the very embodiment (in Evarilion’s eyes) of all the guild's supposed flaws. But things were fated to change…

It all began on a sweet spring morning, while Evarilion and I were sitting at the patio of the Seven-armed squid, a very enjoyable pub near Smugglers wharf, at the very same spot I’m sitting right now, writing these lines. It was a few days before the Raining flowers festival, and this time of the year always imposed the darkest mood on my friend’s temperament. It reminded him of the gruesome events I related in a previous story called “the case of the missing gnome”. For months, his unparalled mind had been severed from his consciousness and controlled by an evil entity called the Antilithe. During these dreadful months, Evarilion became the notorious crime lord known as Professor Mortifère and helped the cult of the Unnamed god foment a bloody revolution.

We were silently sipping a delicious cup of tea, when Evarilion spotted Rose MacGuffin, standing right in front of the pub.

- Althus, look who is here!

- Isn’t it your good friend Rose?

- Very funny. Come on Althus, we must leave the place at once. The mere sight of her is worsening what already started as a very bad day.

- Without finishing our tea? Good heavens! Don’t even think about it!

- I can’t believe it. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into this one!

At that precise moment, Rose suddenly came to us, pulled up a chair, sat right in front of my ill-tempered friend, looked straight into his eyes and said:

- Please help me Mister Bombogarogan, you are my only hope!

To be continued…