The Kingdom. Various Locations. Spring.
The guild was not yet built. The proposal was still being drafted. The King had not yet given his final approval. But word had spread.
The nobles talked. The merchants talked. The mages talked. And the dukes listened.
---
Duke Marcellus of the North. His Keep. Morning.
The north was cold, even in spring.
Snow still clung to the mountains, ice still crusted the rivers, wind still cut through the thickest walls. Duke Marcellus sat in his hall, a fire roaring behind him, a map spread before him.
His lands were vast, his people were hard, his soldiers were veterans of a dozen campaigns against the Vargr. He had fought creatures before—never like the ones in the south, never like the ones that had come through the portal. But he had fought.
His spymaster stood before him, a thin man in dark clothes, his face pale from too many winters indoors.
"The guild," Marcellus said. "Tell me again."
The spymaster nodded. "The King's son, Edward, proposed it. A guild of warriors—not soldiers, not bound to any noble. They would take contracts from anyone who could pay. They would hunt monsters. Protect caravans. Clear roads."
Marcellus leaned back. "And the crown?"
"Would subsidize it. But the guild would fund itself through contracts and the sale of monster parts."
Marcellus was quiet for a moment. "Monster parts?"
"The creatures produce mana. Their bodies contain materials that mages and craftsmen could use. The guild would sell them."
Marcellus snorted. "Sounds like mercenaries."
The spymaster inclined his head. "In practice, yes. But the crown would retain control. The guild would answer to the King."
Marcellus stared into the fire. "The King is dying."
The spymaster said nothing.
"If the guild answers to the crown, it answers to whoever sits on the throne." Marcellus looked at his spymaster. "And when the King dies, the nobles will circle."
The spymaster nodded. "They will."
Marcellus was quiet for a long moment. "Then we need to be ready."
---
Duke Helena of the East. Her Palace. Afternoon.
The east was rich.
Trade routes connected the kingdom to distant lands, bringing silk and spice and gold. Duke Helena sat in her study, her advisors gathered around her, her face calm, her eyes sharp.
She had heard about the guild. She had read the reports. She had sent her own agents to the capital to learn more.
"The merchants support it," her trade minister said. "Rosalia has pledged her guild's resources."
Helena raised an eyebrow. "Rosalia?"
"She's a powerful voice among the merchants. If she supports the guild, others will follow."
Helena nodded slowly. "And the mages?"
"Also supportive. They want access to the monsters for research. The guild could provide that."
Helena stood. Walked to the window. Looked out at the city below.
"The guild is a good idea," she said. "But ideas are easy. Execution is hard."
Her advisors waited.
"The crown will control it. The King will appoint its leaders. The nobles will try to influence it." She turned. "We need to make sure our interests are represented."
Her spymaster stepped forward. "I have a list of potential candidates. People who would be loyal to us."
Helena studied him. "Not loyal to the crown?"
The spymaster hesitated. "Loyal to both."
Helena smiled. It was a cold smile. "Find me someone who is loyal to me first."
---
Duke Stefan of the South. His Estate. Evening.
The south was warm, even in spring.
Duke Stefan sat on his terrace, looking out at his gardens, his wine glass in his hand. He was the oldest of the dukes, the most experienced, the closest to the King.
He had seen kingdoms rise and fall. He had seen nobles scheme and soldiers die. He had seen monsters before—never like the ones in the south, never like the ones that had come through the portal. But he had seen enough.
His daughter sat beside him. A young woman, her face serious, her eyes bright.
"The guild," she said. "Father, what do you think?"
Stefan was quiet for a moment. "I think it's necessary."
His daughter frowned. "Necessary?"
"The army is stretched thin. The merchants are afraid. The people are demanding action." He set down his wine glass. "The guild could solve some of those problems."
His daughter leaned forward. "And the nobles?"
Stefan smiled. It was a tired smile. "The nobles will resist. They always resist change. But they will adapt. They always adapt."
His daughter was quiet for a moment. "Do you think it will work?"
Stefan looked at the sky. The stars were coming out, cold and distant.
"I don't know," he said. "But we have to try."
---
Duke Valerius of the West. His Palace. Night.
The west was recovering.
The battle at the valley, the portal, the creatures—the scars were still fresh. Duke Valerius sat in his study, alone, his thoughts heavy.
He had supported the guild. He had spoken with Edward, with the King, with the other dukes. He believed it was necessary.
But he was worried.
The monsters were spreading. The creatures were breeding. The mana concentration was growing. The world was changing.
He didn't know what that meant. He didn't know what was coming.
A knock at the door.
"Enter."
Renshaw stepped inside. The Viscount looked older than he had a year ago—his hair grayer, his face lined, his eyes tired.
"Valerius."
"Renshaw." Valerius gestured to a chair. "Sit."
Renshaw sat. "The guild."
Valerius nodded. "The guild."
Renshaw was quiet for a moment. "It's a good idea."
"I know."
"But it's not enough."
Valerius met his eyes. "I know."
Renshaw leaned back. "The monsters are spreading. The creatures are breeding. The Vargr are massing in the north. The King is dying." He paused. "We're running out of time."
Valerius was quiet for a moment. "Then we need to move faster."
Renshaw nodded. "We do."