Winter’s cold bit at the morning air. Our convoy set out early, beginning day two of the five-day trip to Verrinport. Only two carriages remained after yesterday’s attack; the others had been reduced to splinters and ash. The merchant, Torbin, was far from pleased, and his constant grumbling about “no one ever attacking Guild escorts” made that clear.

  At Lira’s request, Merric rode at the front, acting as our first line of defense. Elaria sat in the rear carriage with the wounded and Torbin, while Lira and I took the horses behind them. Yesterday’s ambush had slowed us, and Torbin estimated we’d still need four full days before the city even came into view. The steady rhythm of hooves on stone echoed through the forest, a slow heartbeat against the hush of the morning.

  Lira broke the silence once, her voice low. “You think the Guild will believe us about the insignia?”

  “They’ll have to,” I said. “We’re bringing them proof.”

  “Proof doesn’t always matter,” she murmured. “Not when the Church is involved.”

  “Then we make them listen.”

  She nodded, though the uncertainty in her eyes said otherwise.

  The discovery from yesterday still weighed heavily. If the Coldrens truly orchestrated the attack, then the Church was almost certainly involved. Why would they risk striking the Guild just to seize crystal resin? That question had followed me since last night, and I still couldn’t shake it. The thought that this might be the beginning of something far larger than us pressed at the edges of my mind. If the Church was willing to cut through Guild channels to get what it wanted, then no one was safe.

  The days that followed blurred into a quiet rhythm. After the chaos of the ambush, the next four days felt almost unreal in their calm. We rode until our legs ached, made camp beneath cold stars, then rose with the frost to do it all again. Snow dusted the pines at dawn, melted by noon, and returned by nightfall. The road carried us onward, steady and silent.

  We continued at a cautious pace until the trees broke and the road crested a hill. Below us sprawled Verrinport, a vast spread of pale stone and banners, its ramparts rising toward the winter sky. It wasn’t as elegant as Etrielle, but it carried its own rough appeal. Built on the border of the Cindros Dungeon, Verrinport had become a haven for adventurers chasing glory or coin.

  As we descended, the city walls loomed larger with each step. A thin plume of smoke drifted from a chimney beyond the ramparts, curling lazily into the pale sky. At the gate, the guards waved us through once we flashed our Guild IDs, their expressions shifting when they noticed the damaged carriages.

  The moment we crossed inside, the noise swallowed us whole—wagons creaking, merchants shouting, steel clanging from smithies along the road. Adventurers crowded the streets, their voices and laughter blending into a single pulse of motion.

  By the time we reached the Guild hall, our escort duty was complete. The tension that had followed us from the forest began to ease, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger hadn’t been left behind; it had simply changed shape.

  We pulled to a stop in front of the Guild courtyard, where a clerk stood waiting to greet us. Torbin was the first to climb down, his joints creaking almost as loudly as the wagon wheels. He gave the carriages a long, despairing look before exhaling through his nose.

  “Two wagons left,” he muttered. “Half my profits gone, and that resin shipment nearly joining them. I’ll be paying for this for months.”

  Merric dropped from his seat at the front, landing with a thud that made Torbin flinch. “You’ll be alive to pay for it, at least,” he said, slinging his hammer over his shoulder. “Some of us call that a win.”

  Torbin grumbled, adjusting his coat. “A win, yes, but not a cheap one. You lot handled yourselves well out there. I’ll note it in my report to the Guild. Perhaps they’ll even pay you what you’re worth.”

  Elaria helped one of the wounded guards down from the carriage. The man’s leg was bandaged and stiff, but he managed a slight nod of gratitude before limping toward the registration clerk.

  Torbin hesitated, then stepped closer to me. His voice dropped. “You said those attackers carried the Corren insignia. Are you certain of that?”

  I nodded once. “We found it ourselves. Etched into one of their rings.”

  He frowned, eyes darting toward the remaining crate still strapped to the wagon. “Then I’d keep quiet about it until you speak with the Guild Master. If the Coldrens truly wanted that resin, it means someone higher up sent them. And if that’s the case…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Best not to say such things in the open.”

  The look in his eyes told me he already suspected more than he was willing to admit.

  Merric joined us, wiping dust from his sleeves. “Always nice when people remember manners once the danger’s gone,” he said under his breath.

  Torbin either didn’t hear or pretended not to. He turned to the Guild clerk and began arguing over compensation while the guards unloaded what remained of the shipment.

  Lira stood beside me, her gaze fixed on the Guild doors ahead. “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  We crossed the courtyard together, the noise of the city dimming behind us. Inside, the air felt different—denser, almost humming with restrained energy. The kind that promised answers, but not the kind we’d want to hear.

  The clerk who met us at the courtyard led the way through the front hall. Inside, the noise was a constant thrum—boots, voices, the scratch of quills on paper.

  Merric gave a low whistle. “Whoa, this feels more like a fortress than a hall.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Verrinport’s Guild didn’t gleam like Etrielle’s marble tower. Everything here looked practical: heavy beams, rough floors, walls braced with iron. Clerks hurried between desks, arms full of ledgers and different scrolls. Somewhere deeper in the building, a hammer struck metal, each blow echoing through the walls.

  We followed the clerk up a stair and stopped before a wide door at the end of the corridor.

  “Guild Master Veyne will see you now,” she said as she opened the door and ushered us in.

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  The office was quieter than I expected. Sunlight poured through tall windows, catching dust that hung in the air like mist. Shelves of records lined the walls. Behind a long desk sat a man built like he’d been carved out of the same stone as the Guild; broad shoulders, cropped gray hair, eyes that missed nothing.

  “Come in,” he said. His voice held the weight of someone used to being in command.

  We stepped forward. Lira took the seat beside me, while Merric stayed standing.

  “You’re the ones from Etrielle,” he said, studying us. “The escort that was ambushed on the southern road.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered.

  “Report.”

  I told him about the attack, the destroyed wagons, the arcanists leading the raid, and the insignia we found. Lira placed the burned ring on his desk. Veyne leaned forward, the lines around his mouth deepening as he studied it.

  “You’re certain this belonged to a Coldren unit?”

  “I am.”

  He nodded once. “Then the Church had a hand in it. The Coldrens wouldn’t move without their blessing.”

  Merric crossed his arms. “So it wasn’t random.”

  “No,” Veyne said quietly. “It was a message.” He looked down at the papers spread before him. “That shipment you protected was Guild property, not merchant stock. A transfer from Etrielle meant for the Cindros teams. Crystal resin is rare, powerful, and dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  The room fell still.

  Veyne shut the file and rested his hands on the desk. “You’ve done more than your contract required. I’ll contact Kael myself. Until then, keep quiet about this—no talk of the insignia, no mention of the resin. If word spreads, we’ll have trouble none of us can afford.”

  Lira nodded. “Understood.”

  His tone softened. “Verrinport owes you for this. Remember that.”

  That was all. We rose, thanked him, and stepped out into the corridor. The door closed behind us with a solid thud that carried finality.

  Merric blew out a breath. “I think I liked the ambush better.”

  “At least that enemy was honest,” Lira said.

  Back in the main hall, the noise rushed in again—boots, shouting, the ring of metal on metal. It all felt distant, muffled beneath the weight of what we’d just heard.

  We had come to deliver a report, but as we left his office, it felt more like the beginning of something none of us understood.

  The space in the hall was alive again, laughter echoing beneath the rafters. Dozens of adventurers crowded the counters, reporting bounties or turning in contracts.

  “Well,” Merric said with a tired exhale, “that went about as well as expected. At least we know who attacked us.”

  “Now we just need the why,” I added.

  “Maybe the Church had a reason,” Elaria said, ever the optimist. “Maybe they didn’t want the crystal resin falling into the wrong hands.”

  Lira turned her head toward her, her tone calm but edged. “Even if that were true, violence against another—let alone the Guild—is unacceptable from an institution that preaches peace.”

  “Yeah, well,” Merric muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think this is above our pay grade. Let’s pick our next mission, then find something to eat before my stomach stages a revolt.”

  He had a point. The air inside the Guild was thick with the smell of ink and sweat, but underneath it all, I could still feel the echo of Veyne’s words—It was a message.

  “Merric’s right,” I said, forcing my thoughts aside. “We should focus on passing our exam. We only need one more mission to complete it.”

  Elaria’s face brightened. “Then we should pick something in the dungeon. Merric’s been talking about going down there since we met him.”

  Lira nodded slightly. “A dungeon descent would make a fitting final mission.”

  Merric grinned, his energy returning fast. “Now we’re talking.”

  We made our way to the quest boards lining the far wall. Sheets of parchment covered the wood in overlapping layers, requests for everything from escort runs to monster hunts. The noise of the hall faded as I scanned the papers, fingers brushing against the worn edges. Each request felt like a story waiting to be told, most of them ending in someone’s blood.

  “Here,” Merric said suddenly, tugging a sheet from the bottom corner. “Tier one extermination, Essence Beast on the third floor of Cindros. Says we need to take down a Myrrow and collect its fangs.”

  I leaned over to look. “What’s a Myrrow?”

  “They’re bat-like creatures,” Elaria said, eyes narrowing as she read. “Their fangs are hardened like ore and used in armor crafting. We used to get them near my old village, they’d come out at night and carry off livestock.”

  Merric grinned wider. “Sounds perfect. I’ve always wanted to fight something with wings.”

  Lira gave him a sideways glance. “Then this should satisfy your childhood dreams.”

  I took the sheet from him, glancing over the details again. It was dangerous, but manageable, exactly what we needed.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s take it.”

  We brought the posting to the front counter. The same clerk from earlier looked up as we approached, expression bored but polite.

  “Dungeon request?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” I said, handing over the parchment.

  She skimmed it, then nodded and reached under the counter, pulling out a thin stack of forms. “For dungeon missions, each participant must sign a liability waiver. The Guild isn’t responsible for injuries or deaths inside.”

  Merric raised an eyebrow. “Comforting.”

  Elaria frowned. “Is it really that dangerous?”

  The clerk’s tone softened, but only slightly. “Cindros holds an unusually high concentration of Essence. The beasts down there are unstable, erratic. Even Tier One missions can turn ugly.”

  “Good to know,” Merric said dryly. “Guess that’s why they pay us.”

  I signed first, the ink still faintly warm from the clerk’s quill. Lira followed without hesitation. Elaria’s hand trembled slightly before she steadied it, signing cleanly. Merric scrawled his name last and slid the page back across the counter.

  The clerk stamped the parchment and set it aside. “You’re registered for tomorrow’s descent. Report to the eastern gate at dawn.”

  “Understood,” I said.

  The evening air had fully settled in, a cool breeze sweeping through the city. Verrinport was wrapped in pale orange light, the air carrying the faint smell of smoke from the lit forges. Street lamps flickered to life along the roads as people shouted their final bargains to passing adventurers.

  Merric stretched, letting out a long sigh. “Finally, something that doesn’t involve politics or sermons.”

  Lira gave him a small smile. “It is a nice change of pace.”

  We walked together through the streets until we found an inn a few blocks from the Guild. It was a modest place called The Weaver’s Rest. The sign hung crooked, the walls a little weathered, but the windows glowed warmly, and laughter drifted from inside.

  The air smelled of stew and fresh bread the moment we stepped through the door. The place felt more like a cottage than an inn; wooden floors, low beams, and soft light spilling from lanterns. A matronly woman greeted us with a tired smile, offering a discount for Guild travelers. We thanked her and settled at one of the tables near the fire.

  Dinner was simple: roast meat, vegetables, and bread still soft from the oven. It looked plain but tasted better than anything we’d eaten on the road. As we ate, the tension that had shadowed us since Etrielle finally began to fade.

  Merric told a story about accidentally setting his instructor’s boot on fire during training. Elaria laughed harder than I’d seen in days, and even Lira couldn’t hide her quiet smile. For the first time since the ambush, the weight in my chest eased.

  After dinner, we found the bathhouse tucked behind the inn, smoke rising from its chimneys. The heat of the water pulled the ache from my limbs. Neither Merric nor I spoke while we soaked in the quiet. For a while, there was only the sound of water shifting and the faint creak of wood.

  When we finished, we met the girls outside. The night was cool again, stars scattered like pale dust above the rooftops.

  “Tomorrow’s the big one,” Merric said, his voice echoing softly in the empty street. “Our first dungeon.”

  “You sound excited,” Lira said.

  “I am,” he replied without hesitation. “You can’t spend your life fighting monsters and never step inside a dungeon.”

  Elaria gave a quiet hum of agreement. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Going into our first dungeon, only a few days after meeting each other.”

  I leaned back against the bathhouse wall, staring up at the stars. “Strange,” I said, “but it feels right.”

  We let that thought linger as we walked back to the inn, drowsy and clean, the night air sharp against our skin. The common room had quieted; the fire burned low. Upstairs, our rooms were small but warm.

  As I lay down, I could hear Merric’s faint snoring through the wall. I stayed awake a while longer, realizing I hadn’t felt the familiar hum since arriving in Verrinport. I wondered why that was.

  Somewhere beyond the city walls, the dungeon waited in the forest. Maybe I’d feel that hum again down there, deep beneath the stone.

  The last thing I remember before sleep took me was the quiet pulse of excitement for what was to come.