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With that realisation, they built the Adventurer’s Guild, creating a structure with ranks, contracts, and codes of conduct.

They became the ones willing to take on the jobs that others considered too mundane or too risky. Clearing out a nest of Grade 1 wyrmlings terrorising a nearby village, gathering a rare herb from a venomous swamp, escorting an injured woman through dangerous terrain to reach the skilled hands of a surgeon in another city— they handled it all. It was this versatility, this willingness to serve the common folk, that won them respect and spread their influence.

Soon, guild branches sprung up across nations, not only providing protection against magical beasts but also creating a network that made life a little safer, a little more predictable for those living in the shadows of power. As the guild thrived, it became more than just a counter to the Mages— it became a pillar for local communities.

Kai knew all this well. He understood the potential, especially with the dangers lurking near the edge of the Vasper Forest and the ongoing development projects in his territory.

He saw an opportunity, a chance to bring that same structure to Veralt, albeit centuries before the guild would have emerged in history. The timing couldn’t be better; Veralt needed more than just guards and Enforcers. It needed flexibility— fighters, scouts, herbalists, people willing to venture where others wouldn’t.

"This place could use a guild, Gorak," Kai began, thinking about the city and all the possibilities. "The mercenaries here— they’re too scattered, too free. Because of that, they’re not taken seriously. There are large mercenary groups out there, sure, but most are just small bands of three or four. They come, they go, they’re ghosts to the people. But with structure—rankings, missions, a place to call home— we could change that."

Gorak leaned back, crossing his arms, his brows furrowed with thought. "I get what you’re saying, but you’re missing a point, Lord Arzan. Mercs like their freedom. That’s why they become mercs in the first place, to avoid being tied down. How do you plan to get them to follow rules and take orders?"

Kai smirked, his eyes gleaming with the fire of a visionary. "You don’t take away their freedom. You give them a choice—a choice to accept or decline contracts, to work alone or team up with others they trust. But you add incentives—better pay, safer places to rest, medical treatment for injuries. They can be free and they’ll have a reason to be loyal. A place where they can find support when they need it. Not everyone wants to be a lone wolf forever."

Gorak scratched his chin, mulling over the words, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes now. "It’s not a bad plan… But it’ll take time to build trust. Mercs don’t bend easily."

Kai’s smirk grew into a grin, sharp like a blade. "Time is something we have, Gorak. And if it works… Veralt won’t just survive the changes coming its way— it’ll thrive.

"And about their freedom… there really won’t be any need for them to lose their freedom. The idea is simple. They’d just be registered at the guild, a place where they can still pick their own battles. If someone needs something done—a beast cleared, a herb collected, an escort through dangerous terrain—they can post the request at the guild. We’ll offer rewards right there on the board, and the guild can notify the mercs about it. Any mercenary who joins would become an adventurer— a bit more prestigious than just a sword for hire, don’t you think?"

He paused, letting his words settle like dust after a storm. "It’s more of a registration network than an enforcement body. They won’t have to scavenge for jobs themselves, wandering town to town hoping for a contract. It saves them time. And if it works out, we can open more branches as the demand grows, spreading throughout the region. But Veralt would be the main headquarters, the heart of it all."

Gorak squinted his eyes in thought as he made lazy patterns in his chin, the rough stubble making a rasping sound as he mulled over Kai’s words. He seemed intrigued but sceptical, his weathered face creasing with thought. "It sounds ambitious. But I’m not sure, Lord Arzan. There’s a lot to consider. You know how mercs are— they don’t like being tied down to anything, even if it’s as loose as what you’re proposing."

Kai chuckled softly, a confident glint in his eyes. "You don’t have to worry about the logistics, Gorak. I’ll provide a building for the guild. A good one, centrally located. And I won’t charge a single coin for rent or taxes— not for the first few years, anyway. That’ll give the guild time to grow without financial pressure, and it’ll give the mercenaries time to see the benefits."

Gorak’s expression brightened. His arms uncrossed, and for the first time in their conversation, he looked intrigued rather than wary. "No rent, no taxes, and a ready-made base for the guild… That’s a tempting offer, I’ll admit. But I’d need to hear more details about how you plan to make this work. It’s not just about setting up a place; it’s about managing people, and that’s a whole other beast."

Kai nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "We’ll discuss the finer points this week. Stay in the city for now, and we’ll hammer out the details."

Gorak nodded, his eyes narrowing with consideration. "Alright then. I’ll let my party members know what’s going on and keep them in the loop. Let’s see if we can make this work." He gave a final nod and turned, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor as he left the study.

Kai watched him go, his shoulders loosening as the door shut behind the mercenary. He let out a slow breath, muttering to himself, "At least one thing is off the list."

He leaned back, glancing at the people who seemed to be enjoying the celebration. For weeks, he’d wanted to discuss the idea of the guild, knowing it would be a boon for the local economy, a way to bring stability to his growing territory. But between handling the aftermath of the beast wave and the endless administrative work that came with being the new lord, he’d struggled to get a moment alone with Gorak. Now, at least, the seed was planted.

But as the satisfaction of this small victory faded, his thoughts shifted to the long list of other tasks demanding his attention. The Archine Tower Mages were a problem that wouldn’t go away quietly and they were still hanging around the city.

He still had to visit Verdis, to ensure the people there understood who their new lord was— not just in name, but in presence. It was a delicate balance of asserting his authority without appearing heavy-handed, of building trust while keeping potential rivals in check.

Once these two jobs were over, he would need to prepare to deal with his brother Lucian.

***

The forest around the road rustled, shadows weaving through the thick trees as a chilling wind blew across the path. Princess Amara, dressed in plain clothes that could almost pass for a merchant’s daughter, leaned against the window of the rented carriage. Her fingers absently traced the glass as she watched the lone wolf circling the carriage, eyes gleaming with hunger.

Beside her, her maid, Anya sat stiffly, clutching the edge of her seat as if that alone could hold back danger. Her knuckles whitened with tension as she glanced at the scene outside— the carriage driver, a rough man with an ordinary sword, fending off the beast with grunts and swipes.

"Sit back, Your Highness," Anya urged, her voice tight with worry. "Let the driver handle it."

Amara turned her gaze toward the maid, raising a brow at her anxious expression. "Why are you so tense? It’s just a wolf."

"It’s a beast, Your Highness," Anya replied, her voice rising as her grip tightened on the seat’s edge. "And we’re far from the city walls. If anything happens—"

Amara’s lips curved into a small, confident smile as she brushed a lock of long hair behind her ear. "There’s no need to worry. I’m a Mage now, remember? And a proper one."

Anya’s eyes widened with alarm. "But Your Highness, your injury— you’re not fully healed yet! You shouldn’t—"

Before she could finish, Amara pushed open the carriage door and leaped out, landing on the dirt road with a soft thud. The maid’s panicked scream echoed behind her. "Your Highness, wait!"

Ignoring the protest, Amara focused on the wolf that had now turned its attention to her, its fangs bared and hackles raised. She glanced briefly at the carriage driver, who had paused mid-swing to stare at her, confusion and alarm painted across his rugged face.

"Miss, you shouldn’t come close," he called out, brandishing his sword to keep the wolf at bay. "I’ll handle this—"

Amara barely acknowledged his words, raising a hand as mana surged through her veins. The familiar energy coiled around her fingers, a sharp, tingling sensation that sent a shiver down her spine. She felt a stab of pain in her chest—a reminder that her wounds hadn’t fully healed— but she pushed it aside, focusing on the spell’s structure. A swirl of water condensed around her hand, forming into a spear-like shape.

She thrust her arm forward, and the water spear shot through the air, piercing the wolf’s side. The beast yelped, its eyes going wide with shock before it collapsed to the ground, the water soaking into the dirt beneath it.

Amara lowered her hand, breathing heavily as the lingering ache in her chest made her wince. But the wolf lay still, lifeless on the forest floor. She glanced at the carriage driver, who stared at her with wide eyes, his sword hanging limply in his hand.

"You’re… a Mage?" he asked, astonishment clear in his voice.

"Yes," Amara replied, pressing a hand briefly to her chest to steady the rapid thudding of her heart. Her breaths came a little faster than she’d have liked, but she forced a calm expression as she looked back to the driver. "But that’s not important right now. We should get out of here— quickly. Take the main road. I don’t want to take shortcuts like this if there’s danger."

The driver hesitated, glancing back at the wolf’s body, then at Amara, who stood with an air of authority despite her plain clothes.

Amara turned back to the carriage, ignoring the frantic questions from her maid. As she settled into her seat, a hint of frustration crossed her face.

She could already feel the fatigue seeping into her limbs from using magic so soon after her injury, but there was no time to dwell on that. With a sigh, she glanced out the window at the forest. "I believe I’ve already missed what I wanted to go to Veralt for," she muttered under her breath, her expression hardening.

The carriage driver, with newfound respect in his eyes after witnessing the Mage’s power, gave her a quick nod after getting inside. "I’ll take the main road as you asked," he said, his tone far more deferential than before.

The first thing Amara noticed was Anya, who sat across from her, worry etched into every line of her face. She reached out, hesitating before speaking softly. "Miss, it’s deadly, these beasts… I know you can use spells now, but you should be careful. Your pain— it’s getting worse."

Amara dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand, though her expression remained strained. "It doesn’t matter. We’re close enough to Veralt, and the one who will heal me is there."

Anya’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked down before glancing back up at Amara, her voice barely more than a whisper. "What if… what if he isn’t able to, Miss? What then?"

Amara shook her head, her gaze resolute as she looked out the carriage window, the trees flashing past. "I believe he will. I firmly believe so, Anya. In the past year, that man has achieved feats that haven’t been replicated in decades, things even the Archine Tower Mages marvel at. And I still can’t figure him out. If anyone can heal me, it’s him." Her fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of her cloak, as if clinging to that conviction. "And either way, we’re about to find out. But… I’m more disappointed that the ceremony will be over by the time I arrive."

Anya looked at her with a puzzled frown. "You never liked banquets before, Miss."

Amara let out a soft, bitter laugh, a touch of wistfulness in her voice.

"No one likes things they’re forced to attend, Anya. But for the first time in my life, I want to do things my way. And this… this was one of those things. I wanted to be there, on my terms." She paused, a slight edge of disappointment in her voice. "But even if I arrive late, it won’t matter— so long as he’s there to receive me."

Anya’s concern clearly lingered, but she nodded, her grip on her seat relaxing slightly. Outside, the road grew smoother as they moved deeper into Sylvan Enclave.

***

A/N - Sorry I was busy with my brother’s wedding and then when I returned, I got sick. Still recovering.