Wilfred stood with his back to the door, staring out the large window behind the Guild Master's desk—his desk. That would take some getting used to.

On the desk was an open letter, its edges crinkled by frequent handling.

Dearest Wilfred,

I know this will not come as a surprise—you have sensed it for years. I have never hidden what I believe, nor have I been shy about where those beliefs lead me. I live as my convictions demand.

That said, I have never begrudged others their own faiths. Your devotion to the Guild—rather than to the city—has never been a flaw in my eyes. We simply stand upon different sides of the same truth, and neither is more moral than the other.

When I first saw you wandering the Guild halls—bright-eyed and curious—I saw promise. You became a fine warrior, yes, but that was never what impressed me most. There are many strong arms within the Guild; we trade in them, after all.

What impressed me was your growth. You were not the best or brightest when you began, and I mean that as no insult. I was not seeking greatness already forged—I sought the kind that hones itself.

Those who begin great but cease to grow will always be surpassed by those who strive to become great through will and effort. That is what has always set you apart.

Your struggle to better yourself inspired me when you were young, and it continues to inspire me now. I have no doubt it will outlast even me. But promise me this, Wilfred—never lose that spark.

The spark that drives you to improve.

The spark that makes you kind.

The spark that compels you to lift others, to create, to protect.

You may not always see it in yourself, but believe me—we all do. That spark brightens the dark, and it kindles hope in those who've forgotten it. You make others stronger simply by being who you are.

That is your strength—your power, Wilfred. And I will always cherish what you have created in me.

I wish you every success, Guild Master Wilfred, and may your spark never fade.

With love and respect, always,

Mahven Shûratalûn-Veshari

Former Guild Master of Vazreth

Wilfred had found the letter on his desk that morning. As the Guild Ma—no, Mahven—had said, it was not unexpected. He'd always known that Mahven would not let his people suffer forever. He was always on the lookout for opportunities to improve their circumstances, and it seemed one had finally come.

The Guild, however, was an independent, neutral entity—it had to be. If it was to operate in multiple cities across the world, it could not become embroiled in any political struggles. It hurt Wilfred's heart, but he was a Guild man first and foremost. He couldn't become involved in whatever trouble was brewing in this city.

Instead, he considered how many the Guild had helped. True, it couldn't become involved in local politics, but farmers whose crops were targeted by destructive beasts, merchants whose carts were ransacked by bandits, and even local citizens who had no future but to become adventurers were lifted up by the Guild.

It was easy to dwell on those the Guild couldn't help, but Wilfred believed you owed it to yourself—and to the Guild—to remember those it did.

Vrump!

Wilfred started as Julia and her party suddenly appeared in his office. Her arms were outstretched, her face serious.

Julia and Ithshar exchanged a look, not even noticing Wilfred.

"You must work on your temper. Insulting people is not going to win them to your cause," Ithshar said with a small smile. Julia returned it sheepishly.

She finally turned toward the desk and was visibly taken aback.

"Wilfred? Isn't this Mahven's office?" Julia asked in confusion, quickly scanning the room.

"You have the correct room, Julia, but Mahven has resigned—I am the Guild Master now," he said flatly. Whatever his emotions about the whole affair, he didn't need to drag others into it.

"Oh…uh, congratulations, then?" she said, shifting her feet uncomfortably.

Wilfred suppressed the smile that threatened his lips. He'd always known that Julia was a little awkward when it came to socializing, and he could tell she hadn't the foggiest idea how to respond to such a complicated situation. Her bumbling through complex situations was charming in its own way, though—endearing.

"Thank you, I suppose. May I ask why you suddenly appeared in my office? Not that I am bothered by it—I am just used to people using the door," he said with a small smile.

"Of course. Do you mind if we sit? This will probably take a while," she said, looking toward the benches.

Wilfred acquiesced, and they all sat comfortably as Julia began retelling her group's story, with the occasional interjection from the elves. She had to start from the very beginning, as Wilfred was unaware that Mahven had given her party a specific job. She also had to backtrack to explain how she acquired a document with one of the Lord's seals on it.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

As the tale came to a close, Wilfred considered silently. There was a lot to unpack, but Wilfred's mind immediately went to adventurer matters, of course.

"I suppose you lost your Guild ID, then?" he asked.

"I uh…guess so," Julia admitted, looking embarrassed.

Before Wilfred could respond, a small tink sounded as Julia's ID landed in her armored lap. She held it up to inspect it before looking at Nadhem—who had tossed it to her. He wasn't even looking her way, however. He seemed to be intent on the fire crackling under the mantle.

"Don't worry about it, Julia. That's the benefit of working in groups—more people to handle the smaller details," Talnîr said, chuckling.

Julia smiled and pretended to put the ID into a pocket in her armor, though she'd already revealed her dimensional space to Wilfred before. He wasn't sure why she was hiding it now, but he could imagine how stressed she must be…which made the next part even more difficult.

"Thank you for telling me this, and you have my word that I will share it with the adventurers. We will not let the city blame elves for their own misdeeds uncontested. However, you all must leave," he said with a sad sigh.

The group exchanged confused looks.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Julia asked.

"That depends on your perspective, I suppose. The Guild is an independent entity that operates legally within many cities and nations. As such, there are certain…'rules' that we must follow, else we jeopardize our relationships with those cities and nations. These rules are mostly unspoken, but they exist nonetheless.

"If a Lord of this city comes to the Guild through the appropriate channels and requests the surrender of a Guild member for legal charges, we will be required to surrender them.

"Yes, Margreth is clearly using this opportunity to silence you and what you know. But the fact remains that using her seal without consent is a legal issue, so refusing to surrender you—the offending party—would jeopardize our position within the city.

"Imagine if the city came to us with claims that one of our members had murdered a citizen. You can see how it would be problematic to refuse, yes? This is an extreme example, but if we start deciding what is or is not a 'legitimate' legal issue, we would be seen as interfering in local governance.

"Thus, all our members are required to comply with the laws of the land they reside in, save for some very specific exceptions, such as being ineligible for military drafts.

"The Guild occupies a tenuous position with most governments and municipalities. We are really just a more official and socially accepted version of a mercenary guild—that is how leaders often see us, at least.

"We cannot help people if we are banned from operating, so we have to walk this fine line between the government, its citizens, and our members," Wilfred explained.

He watched the group silently contemplate, a mixture of emotions crossing each of their faces, before Julia finally spoke.

"I see, I understand. Thank you for your help thus far, Wilfred. And thank you in advance for spreading the word about what really happened to those caravans," she said with a small smile.

"Of course. Just because I work for the Guild doesn't mean I enjoy this fraught neutrality we operate under. That said, I recommend you head for the South Quarter," he suggested.

"Why is that?" Ithshar asked.

"First, it is where Mahven will be. Second, it is where the building pressure will undoubtedly burst, which I suspect means it will be where you want to be," he explained.

"'Pressure?' What kind of pressure?" Talnîr asked, his face—along with all the others—darkening.

"Ah, yes. You teleported straight here from the gate, so you probably haven't heard," he said, getting up and grabbing a leaflet from his desk.

He brought it over and flattened it out on the table between all the seats.

"This was posted on our job board this morning. We took it down because the board is for requests that have been processed by the Guild only. It is not a community board for propaganda and random flyers," he said, smoothing the posting out.

The scroll unraveled into a painting depicting an attack. The attackers were clearly elves, their ears wildly exaggerated, while the attacked seemed to be merchants, though their appearances were equally exaggerated. They had large, glistening eyes, and both a man and woman clutched a small child between them, clearly implying that the elves were attacking a family, not just a merchant.

At the top was a line repeating what the man outside the gate had said—that the elves were attacking caravans outside the city. On the bottom was a line explaining that a military draft would be instituted in a few days.

"That is…quite a bit of work for a set of flyers. It must have been costly to have all these painted," Sahira mused as she inspected.

"The city likely only made a few. The population of Vazreth is largely illiterate. It is places like the Guild where these would be posted, as there is a larger concentration of the literate due to the nature of the work," Wilfred explained, frowning.

Julia, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly jumped to her feet. She stared toward the city's center, at the huge fortress floating above it.

"That's what this is…" she whispered.

"Julia? That's what what is?" Wilfred asked.

She turned to him, her eyes wide with realization.

"We defeated the Nashiin in Tûrathiin, despite their overwhelming numbers. I don't know whether those were largely summoned undead or reanimated victims, but in either case, it would take a long time to replenish that army.

"Even more than that, we've shown that just replenishing their numbers won't guarantee victory. They need something else—something to enhance their previous strategy," she said, turning to the elves.

"They're going to supplement their army with actual people this time. That's why they've been building resentment for elves in the city. It started slow. They would build resentment and slowly start pinning all the citizens' problems on the elves, leading many to despise them.

"After years of this resentment, the people of Vazreth would have no issue with going to war against the elves, or what they see as the cause of all their suffering. It's why they've been secretly attacking caravans.

"They didn't want anyone to know the caravans were missing. They wanted the disrupted trade to slowly start eating away at the people of this city's livelihoods without an obvious cause.

"People become desperate and quick to anger when they're unsure where their next meal will come from. I read about this specific issue being one of the dangers of a siege—citizens opening the gates and allowing the invading army in themselves.

"However, in this case, they build resentment, and just when it reaches a boiling point, they offer up a scapegoat. 'It's all the elves' fault!' and, 'If we defeat those elves, our problems will be solved!' They point all that hate toward Tûrathiin and invade with an army of undead and the living.

"If anything, we've only hastened the process. They probably would've preferred to continue the slow burn, but because we discovered their attacks—as you explained to Margreth, Ithshar—they've been forced to escalate sooner than planned.

"They're going to invade the marsh again, but this time it will not be a siege. It will be a fast, devastating march, not to claim the marsh's land or its resources, but to eradicate its people."

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