The guild hall was louder than usual.
Voices overlapped in waves, the steady hum of mercenaries, hunters, and opportunists filling the wide wooden chamber. Tankards struck tables. Boots dragged across the floor. Laughter rose and fell in uneven bursts. It was the kind of noise that usually meant nothing.
Today, it meant something.
Because when Kael pushed the doors open and stepped inside, the noise dipped.
Not completely. Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Enough for attention to shift.
Enough for eyes to follow.
Belphegor walked in behind him, expression unreadable, his presence drawing a different kind of silence. Not respect. Not yet. Something closer to unease. A few guild members straightened as they took in the state of them. Torn fabric. Dried blood. The quiet weight of people who had gone somewhere dangerous and come back carrying more than they left with.
They looked like a group that had crossed a line.
And returned with proof of it.
Jarek rolled his shoulders as he stepped inside, ignoring the stares. Lyra moved quietly at Kael's side, her gaze already scanning the room. Corin kept the satchel close, his fingers never straying far from its clasp.
Kael did not slow as he crossed the hall.
"Counter," he said.
Belphegor followed without comment.
The receptionist behind the long wooden desk looked up as they approached. She had the look of someone who had seen too many hopeful faces and too many failures. Calm. Detached.
Until she saw the satchel.
Then her expression changed.
"Mission identification," she said, voice steady but sharper now.
Kael reached into his coat and placed the folded parchment on the counter. The royal crest caught the light immediately.
A few nearby conversations died outright.
The receptionist unfolded it carefully, eyes scanning the text. Her posture straightened as she read.
"Investigation of the Northern Trade Route raids," she murmured. "High clearance."
Her gaze lifted.
"Status?"
Kael nodded once.
"Completed."
A pause.
"Proof?" she asked.
Corin stepped forward without a word and placed the satchel on the counter.
The moment it opened, the air shifted.
Documents. Sealed correspondences. Ledgers marked with Greywatch insignia. Names. Payments. Orders. Enough to turn rumor into accusation.
The receptionist did not touch anything at first.
She simply looked.
Then she exhaled slowly.
"I'll need to verify this."
Kael stepped back. "Take your time."
Belphegor leaned slightly against the counter, his eyes drifting across the hall rather than the documents. The entire process held no interest for him. Paper. Ink. Words. None of it carried weight.
Power did.
And this felt like… delay.
The receptionist called someone over. A senior clerk arrived within moments, then another. The documents passed between them in careful hands, their quiet murmurs growing more urgent with each page.
One of them stopped midway through a ledger and looked up sharply.
"This is enough," he said.
The receptionist nodded once and turned back to Kael.
"Mission status: Confirmed complete."
A faint ripple moved through the guild.
Not loud.
But present.
She continued, voice now formal.
"Reward authorization: Fifty gold pieces, as stated in the contract."
Jarek let out a low whistle. "Finally."
A locked drawer slid open beneath the counter. A small chest was brought out and placed between them. When it opened, the gold inside caught the light, dull and heavy and very real.
Belphegor's gaze shifted.
For the first time since they entered, he focused.
Not on the people.
Not on the room.
On the gold.
He said nothing.
But he watched.
Kael reached forward and closed the chest.
"We'll divide it later," he said.
The receptionist nodded again.
"The guild will forward this report to the Crown immediately. Given the nature of the evidence…" She hesitated briefly, choosing her words. "You should expect further contact."
"Royal contact?" Lyra asked quietly.
"Yes."
That single word settled heavily.
Even Jarek's grin faded slightly.
Belphegor straightened.
"Good," he said.
The others glanced at him.
Kael studied him for a moment. "You're not concerned?"
Belphegor's lips curved faintly.
"If they have power, I want to see it."
Jarek snorted under his breath. "You might regret that."
Belphegor did not respond.
The receptionist slid a smaller parchment across the counter.
"Official completion seal," she said. "Keep it. You'll need it when you're summoned."
Kael took it.
That word again.
Summoned.
Not invited.
Not requested.
Summoned.
Corin closed the satchel, now lighter but no less important. Lyra exhaled slowly, tension she had been holding finally easing, though not completely.
They had survived the manor.
That part was over.
What came next would not be simpler.
Belphegor turned away from the counter first, his gaze drifting once more across the guild hall. Conversations had resumed, but quieter now, more controlled. People were watching them without pretending otherwise.
He stepped forward, moving toward an empty table.
"Explain it," he said.
Kael followed. "Explain what?"
Belphegor glanced once at the chest in Jarek's hands.
"This," he said. "Why does metal matter?"
Jarek blinked. "You're serious?"
Belphegor's expression did not change.
Kael answered instead.
"It buys things," he said simply. "Food. Weapons. Information. Loyalty."
Belphegor frowned slightly.
"Power," Kael added.
That word landed.
Belphegor leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing faintly as he reconsidered the chest.
"…So this is how mortals trade strength," he said.
Lyra gave a small, careful nod. "In a way."
Jarek grinned again, some of his earlier ease returning. "Welcome to the world."
Belphegor did not smile.
But he did not look away from the gold again.
Across the hall, unnoticed by most, a guild runner slipped out through a side door, a sealed report already in hand.
It would reach the Crown before nightfall.
And somewhere far above the reach of the guild, where decisions were made behind guarded walls and measured words, someone would read it.
And decide what to do with the man who had walked into Greywatch…
…and walked out.