The workshop crackled with heat as the forge spat out its first full-length musket.
Emil held the weapon with both hands. Primitive. Heavy. The wood slightly warped. The barrel a touch short. But it worked. It would fire.
Henna watched with wide eyes. "You made this?"
"No," Emil said. "We made it."
Thass ran a hand over the gunstock, whistling. "Never seen one like it."
Orren, the older twin, tilted his head. "What is this place? A guild?"
Emil wiped sweat from his brow, stepping forward. It was time.
🗣️ "Let Me Tell You What a Union Is"
"You've heard of guilds," he said. "They work for the crown. Or the lords. They take orders, they serve coin. They're businesses."
Everyone nodded.
"A union is different. It doesn't serve gold. It doesn't bend to nobles. It belongs to you. The workers. You join because you believe in something. That a man with a hammer has just as much worth as a man with a crown."
The group exchanged glances. Confused. Curious.
"Unions fight for fair work. For safety. For rights. And sometimes, when needed—"
He raised the musket.
"They fight for each other."
🤫 "And That's Why You Must Stay Silent"
"Now listen carefully."
His voice dropped.
"This cannot leave these walls. No one outside this room can know what we are making, or what we are planning. Not yet."
Thass nodded slowly. "Because if the wrong ears hear…"
"We hang," Henna finished grimly.
"Worse," Emil said. "We vanish. They don't even bury us."
Orren raised a hand. "But why keep building if we can't use them?"
Emil smiled. "We'll use them when it matters most. But not a moment before."
🍻 Tavern Talk & Companions
That night, Emil sat with the old hunting crew again in the tavern.
Tarn, the ex-soldier, was three drinks in, arm around Garn, the younger, joking guard.
"So Emil," Tarn laughed, slamming down his mug. "You sure you're not some runaway noble? You talk too clean to be born poor."
Emil chuckled. "Would a noble help you clean monster guts?"
"Good point!" Garn hooted. "Only nobles I've seen near blood are the ones coughing it up!"
Alric, the former priest, leaned back in his chair, grinning. "You ever think the gods just sit up there, watchin' us trip over our own feet?"
"Absolutely," Emil said. "And laughing."
The mood was light — until Vollan, the other guard, leaned in.
He never laughed. Never smiled. His eyes sharp, posture stiff. Even now.
"You're hiding something," he said flatly.
The table quieted.
Tarn raised an eyebrow. "Vollan…"
"No. He's too sharp. Too careful. That's not just survival instinct."
Emil met his gaze. Calm. Steady.
"I'm not hiding anything dangerous to you. But yes… I have plans. Big ones."
Vollan stared a while longer, then nodded once.
"You'll need someone serious to keep the rest of you from getting killed."
And just like that, Emil knew: these were his first companions. Different, flawed, but grounded.
🤝 Meeting Kael Again
Kael met Emil the next morning in the old shrine gardens, the scent of herbs thick in the air.
"I asked about your 'union,'" Kael said, raising an eyebrow. "No one's heard of it. Not even in the southern republics."
"Because it's not from this world," Emil answered truthfully.
Kael stared at him for a long while. Then smirked.
"Well, that explains a lot."
"I'm not ready to show anyone everything," Emil said. "But I need people. Smart people. Angry people. Loyal people."
Kael crossed his arms. "That's a dangerous trio."
"That's why you're perfect."