Chapter 25
The Mercenary Guild
The air inside the Mercenary Guild was thick with the smell of old wood, spilled ale, and the sharp, clean scent of oiled steel. It was a cacophony of low, rumbling conversations, the clink of coin, and the occasional bark of laughter. As Renly stepped through the heavy doors, the ambient noise dipped for a moment as dozens of experienced eyes sized him up. He felt their gazes like a physical weight—assessing his youth, the quality of his armor, the unfamiliar blue stone sigil on his cloak.
A few murmurs reached his ears. "Bluestone... that's the new fief up north, past the Bramblewood." "The Oak-Horn lands. Heard they got a new Knight after the tide." "Young, isn't he?"
He ignored them, his posture straight and confident, the calm authority he'd cultivated in Bluestone serving him well here. He made his way to the main counter, a long, scarred piece of oak manned by a sharp-eyed woman with her hair tied back in a severe bun. A polished bronze plaque on the counter read: 'Mistress Cora - Guild Registrar'.
"First time?" she asked, her voice clipped and efficient, not looking up from a ledger.
"Yes. Ser Renly of Bluestone, seeking to register," he replied.
She finally glanced up, her gaze sweeping over him once before returning to her book. "Registration is five silvers. Covers guild fees for a year. You'll start as a one-star. Sigil?"
He showed her his cloak clasp again. She made a note. "Bluestone. Viscount Corvan's domain. Good enough." She took his five silvers with a practiced motion. "Guild rules are simple. No killing fellow guild members outside sanctioned duels. No reneging on accepted contracts. Payment is upon completion, verified by the client or a guild adjudicator. Disputes are settled by the guild master. Break the rules, and you're out, blacklisted, and possibly hunted. Understood?"
"Understood."
She gestured with her chin towards a large wooden board on the wall behind her, carved with a clear, five-star ranking system. "Your rank. One star: clear three low-risk missions. Two stars: six low-risk or two mid-risk. Three stars: nine low-risk or four mid-risk. Four stars: eight mid-risk or two high-risk. Five stars: four high-risk. Rank determines what contracts you can take and your pay grade. Higher risk, higher reward."
Renly studied the board, committing it to memory. It was a straightforward progression system, not unlike the Federation's Order classification, but measured in proven deeds rather than pure power.
Mistress Cora followed his gaze. "Mission availability is… fluid. Since the beast tide, the forests and fields nearby have been picked clean. The bigger, smarter beasts are gone or hiding deep. But the disruption…" She sighed, a rare hint of weariness in her professional demeanor. "It's driven a lot of desperate men to banditry. We've seen a surge in bandit-hunting missions posted by the Count's guard and the city watch. Small bands, mostly, but a few larger forces led by disgraced knights or deserters with Knight-level power have been causing trouble on the trade routes from the surrounding provinces. It's impacting city trade, driving up prices."
Renly nodded, understanding the economic ripple effect. Scarcity of beasts meant fewer materials and more dangerous roads, which in turn made everything more expensive.
He turned his attention to the main mission board, a vast slate covered in neatly written chalk notices. They were categorized by risk and type.
Low-Risk: Escort Merchant Caravan to Silverstream (3 days). Guard Warehouse in Outer City (Night Watch). Collect 10 bundles of Silverleaf Herb from Bramblewood Fringe.
Mid-Risk: Hunt Bandit Group 'The Grey Wolves' (5-7 members, last seen near Stonebridge). Clear Giant Rock-Tusker from Northern Farmlands. (Beast is destroying crops, deadline: 3 days). Investigate Disappearances in Hillside Hamlet.
High-Risk: Hunt Deserter Knight 'Malak the Black' and his warband. (Believed to be Senior knight with combat skill). Secure a Site in Deep Bramblewood. (Reports of unstable elemental activity further information upon contract).
His eyes settled on the mid-risk Rock-Tusker mission. It was perfect. A clear, tangible threat with a short deadline. It was close to the city, minimizing travel time, and dealing with a beast played to his strengths—both his Knightly power and his experience from Bluestone. The pay was listed as fifteen silvers—a significant sum, enough to cover his inn expenses for a week and more.
He turned back to Mistress Cora. "I'll take the Rock-Tusker contract. The northern farmlands."
She raised an eyebrow slightly, perhaps surprised at his direct choice of a mid-risk for his first mission, but made no comment. She stamped his guild charter—a simple parchment now bearing his name and the one-star emblem—and noted the contract. "Deadline is three days from today. Report back here with proof of kill—a tusk, a pelt, something substantial. Good luck, Ser Renly."
With a nod, he left the guild hall, the eyes of the other mercenaries following him out, their assessment now tinged with a flicker of curiosity.
Finn was waiting outside, leaning against the wall. "All set, Ser?"
"For now," Renly said. "I have a contract. But first, I need to sell these." He gestured to the pack on his back, filled with the carefully preserved pelts, rare herbs, and potent bones he and the villagers had gathered over the past months.
Finn's face lit up. "Right this way, Ser! The best market for that is Hawker's Square."
The boy led him through a maze of bustling streets to a large, open square teeming with energy. It was a symphony of commerce. Stall owners shouted their wares, the air thick with the smells of spices, leather, and sizzling street food. Finn expertly guided him to a section dedicated to hunters and herbalists.
Renly moved from stall to stall, negotiating with the sharp-eyed merchants. He sold the winter-wolf pelts for two silvers each, the bundle of Ghost-Kelp herbs for five silvers, and the reinforced bones of a Scale-Tusk for three silvers. It was a slow, deliberate process, each transaction a lesson in the city's economy. By the end, his purse felt significantly heavier, jingling with a total of twenty-three new silvers added to his funds. It was a start.
Returning to The Gilded Quill as evening began to paint the sky in shades of orange and purple, Renly felt the day's weight. He dismissed Finn with a well-earned silver coin, promising to call for him again tomorrow.
In the quiet of his room, he sat on the edge of the bed, the sounds of the city a muffled roar through the shuttered window. He had taken the first concrete step. He had funds, a mission, and a better understanding of the city's pulse. But the larger challenge loomed. Making real connections, gaining influence, and finding a path to the advanced resources he needed—that wouldn't be found on a simple beast-hunt. He needed a way into the circles of the inner city, to rub shoulders with the knights who had combat skills to spare and the merchants who dealt in things far more valuable than pelts and herbs.
He stared at the dancing flame of the room's single oil lamp. The path was clear, but the map was blank. He had three days to slay a beast and prove his worth. After that, the real game in the City of Rose would begin.