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While Mazoga was busy speaking with the Adventures’ Guild Leader, Calen and Marron heading towards the merchant guild.

Calen followed Marron through Splitstone Row's crowded streets, weaving between merchants hawking wares and adventurers haggling over gear. The Merchant's Guild stood ahead—a three-story structure faced in polished granite with bronze filigree accents running along the eaves. Unlike the Adventurer's Guild's weathered stone, this building projected wealth.

Carl would probably have questions about those bronze patterns, Calen thought, noting how the metalwork seemed to follow geometric principles rather than decorative whimsy.

Twin oak doors reinforced with iron bands marked the entrance. Marron pushed through without hesitation, and Calen stepped into another world.

The interior was pristine. Marble floors stretched toward a raised counter where three clerks worked behind polished wood. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting steady light without flame or smoke. Along the walls, enchanted ledgers floated in glass cases, their pages turning themselves. The air smelled of ink, parchment, and something faintly metallic—preservation wards, Calen guessed.

This is what wealth looks like when it doesn't have to fight for survival.

Merchants moved through the space with quiet efficiency. A dwarf in formal robes negotiated at one end of the counter while a human woman reviewed contracts at the other.

Marron approached the front desk where a young man with neat brown hair and guild insignia on his collar looked up from his ledger.

"Good morning," Marron said smoothly. "I'd like to arrange a meeting with your guild leader."

The clerk smiled politely. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

The smile didn't waver. "Then you'll need to schedule one. Our guild leader's availability is limited, as I'm sure you understand."

Marron sighed and glanced at Calen with a look that said I knew this was coming.

"Of course," Marron replied evenly. "Then perhaps you can direct me to someone who handles high-quality trade goods?"

The clerk's expression shifted slightly, interest replacing politeness. "What type of goods are we discussing?"

Marron leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough to suggest discretion. "Agricultural surplus and medicinal herbs. Frontier-grown, well-preserved. And healing potions, proper craft, not watered-down market stock."

The clerk's quill paused mid-stroke. "Quantities?"

"Enough to establish consistent supply lines," Marron said. "We're not peddlers moving single crates. We're representatives of a settlement with production capacity."

Calen watched the clerk's eyes sharpen. The words consistent supply and settlement had weight here. Markets didn't care about one-time hauls. They cared about reliability.

The clerk set down his quill. "Third floor, office twelve. Factor Kess Wyndmar handles frontier trade negotiations. She'll assess quality and discuss terms."

"Appreciated," Marron said.

The clerk gestured toward a staircase at the far end of the hall. "She's expecting a grain merchant from the eastern clans this morning, but if you're quick, you might catch her between appointments."

Marron nodded his thanks and turned toward the stairs. Calen followed closely behind him.

As they climbed, Calen glanced back at the main hall. The floating ledgers, the enchanted lights, the quiet efficiency—it all spoke of systems built over decades. Systems that didn't adapt quickly.

Good thing we're not trying to disrupt them. Yet.

On the third floor, the corridors narrowed. Offices lined both sides, their doors marked with bronze nameplates and guild seals. Marron counted down until he stopped at a door bearing the name Factor Kess Wyndmar – Frontier Trade.

He knocked twice.

"Enter," came a voice from inside.

Calen followed Marron into Factor Kess Wyndmar's office and immediately understood why she commanded respect.

She wore deep blue guild robes with bronze threading. Her graying auburn hair was pulled back in a practical bun, and her hands bore the faint ink stains of someone who worked their own ledgers rather than delegating everything to clerks. Behind her, shelves held organized trade samples, regional maps, and correspondence files arranged with meticulous precision.

Every surface in the office served a purpose it seems.

She runs a tight operation, Calen thought, recognizing the same efficiency Edda brought to settlement planning.

Kess looked up from a contract she'd been reviewing and smiled warmly. "Gentlemen. Please, sit."

She gestured toward two chairs positioned in front of her desk. Marron took the left seat with practiced ease, and Calen settled into the right.

Kess folded her hands on the desk. "How can I help you today?"

"Marron Vyren," he said. "And this is my associate, Calen. We're hoping to establish trade relations with the Merchant's Guild."

Kess's smile didn't fade, but her eyes sharpened with professional interest. "Are you guild members yourselves?"

"I am," Marron said. "Registered merchant, western operations."

"Where are you based?"

Marron didn't hesitate. "Western edge of the Empire. Small operation, but growing. You'll probably need to look me up later, but for now—" He spread his hands slightly. "—we have business to discuss."

Kess's gaze flicked to Calen for a moment, assessing, then returned to Marron. Her expression remained neutral, but Calen caught the subtle shift in her posture.

After a brief pause, Kess nodded once. "Fair enough. What are you offering?"

Marron produced a folded list from his coat pocket and set it on the desk. "Agricultural surplus—hearthgrain, ashroot, deeproot, stonebulb. Medicinal herbs: silverleaf, frostleaf, bitterbark, hearthbud, sunveil petal. Healing potions crafted by a trained healer and froststones—high-grade, refined for trade."

Kess picked up the list and scanned it. Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Froststones? From where?"

"Threeburrow," Marron said. "We've established supply agreements with them."

Kess set the list down and leaned back in her chair, studying Marron with renewed interest. "The Northern Territories aren't known for easy trade partnerships. Most frontier settlements are too isolated or too hostile for consistent dealings."

Marron smiled faintly. "We've found that mutual survival builds better relationships than haggling over coin."

Kess's lips quirked. "That's an optimistic view."

"It's a tested one," Marron replied.

Calen stayed quiet, letting Marron handle the negotiation. His role here wasn't to speak—it was to observe. And what he observed was Kess slowly shifting from polite skepticism to genuine consideration.

She tapped her fingers on the desk once, a decisive gesture. "All right. Let's discuss specifics."

Kess leaned back in her chair. "Do you have samples of these products?"

Marron winced internally but kept his expression neutral. "Yes, we do. However, they're currently stored in our trade wagon at the Thornwick Rest."

Kess nodded. "I'll need to assess the items personally before making any promises."

"Of course," Marron replied. "That's perfectly reasonable."

Kess's gaze sharpened, the practiced warmth fading into something colder and more calculating. "Be straight with me, Marron. One guild member to another—how lucrative is this setup? I don't have time to chase rumors or waste effort on marginal returns. I'm a very busy woman."

Marron had known this question was coming the moment they'd walked through the door. He shifted into the mode that had kept his caravan profitable for fifteen years—direct, confident, and utterly certain of his product's value.

"The quality of goods we're bringing can be found nowhere else in the Northern Territories," he said, meeting her eyes without hesitation. "I cannot tell you where they originate—that's a trade secret—but I would stake my membership in this guild on their value."

The words hung in the air between them. Marron watched Kess's expression carefully, reading the subtle tells that separated a genuine merchant from a bureaucrat playing at trade. Her eyes narrowed slightly with the sharp focus of someone recalculating risk and reward.

She tapped her fingers once against the desk then nodded. "I'm scheduled for another meeting immediately after this one, but I'll be free afterward. I'll personally accompany you to verify the quality of your goods."

Marron allowed himself a small, genuine smile. "That would be excellent. We appreciate your time, Factor Wyndmar."

"We do have one other stop to make first," Calen added quietly from beside him. "The Mage's Guild."

Kess glanced at the young man, then back to Marron. "That's fine. I'll wait outside the Merchant's Guild once I'm finished with my meeting. If I'm not there when you return, ask the reception desk for me."

"Understood." Marron stood, extending his hand across the desk. Kess shook it firmly—the grip of someone who'd closed deals worth more than most adventurers saw in a lifetime.

As they turned to leave, Kess spoke again. "Marron."

He paused at the door.

"You're right to be cautious about your sources," she said. "But if these goods are as exceptional as you claim, you'll need more than secrecy to protect that supply chain. Think about that before our next conversation."

Marron inclined his head, acknowledging the warning without committing to anything. "I'll keep that in mind."

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

In the corridor, Calen exhaled slowly. "She's sharp."

"Very," Marron agreed, already mentally cataloging the conversation for his report to Edda. "Which means she'll recognize quality when she sees it. That works in our favor."

They descended the stairs together, passing through the bustling ground floor toward the exit.

Kess watched through the enchanted window as Marron and his young companion descended the guild steps and turned toward Mage guild. She waited until they'd disappeared into the midday crowd before speaking.

"You can come out now, Aldric."

The side door opened, and Aldric Brennan emerged from the observation alcove with an expression of mild amusement. His silver hair caught the light from the crystal lamps as he crossed to her desk.

"How did you know I was listening?" he asked, settling into the chair Marron had vacated moments before.

Kess laughed—genuine and unguarded in a way she never allowed with clients. "Oh, please. We both received the same information packet from the gate watch this morning. Frontier merchant, accompanied by a level forty-six Warden, arriving from the direction of Wasteland." She gestured toward the stack of reports on her desk. "Marron walks in requesting the guild leader, and instead of directing him to scheduling or one of the junior factors, the receptionist sends him straight to me."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the polished wood. "That doesn't happen by accident. Not in this guild. Not with you running things."

Aldric's smile deepened, the expression of a man who appreciated being understood. He said nothing, which was answer enough.

Kess drummed her fingers against the desk—the same deliberate pattern she'd used during the meeting. "So. Level forty-six Warden. Frontier merchant who stakes his guild membership on product quality he won't name the source for." She paused. "And you made certain I was the one who spoke with them. Why?"

The question hung between them, weighted with all the years Kess had spent reading people, parsing motivations, and identifying the patterns beneath surface conversations. Aldric had spent twenty-eight years with the guild—twelve of them as Regional Guildmaster. He didn't make random assignments.

He folded his hands in his lap, gray eyes settling on her with that familiar expression of patient calculation. "Tell me what you saw in that meeting, Kess. Your read on them."

"Don't deflect," Kess said, but without heat. "You want my assessment? Fine. Marron's legitimate. The quality claim isn't a bluff. He means it." She tapped the arm of her chair. "But you didn't send him to me because of trade goods. Whatever's behind this group, it's bigger than a frontier supply line."

Aldric nodded slowly, still watching her with that unreadable expression.

Kess narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to tell me why you assigned this to me, are you?"

"I will," Aldric said. "But first, I want to know if you're interested."

"In what, exactly?"

"In taking this on. Personally. Not as a routine frontier evaluation, but as something that requires your full attention." His tone shifted—less genial, more serious. "This could be significant, Kess. Or it could be nothing. But either way, I need someone I trust to find out which."

Kess studied him for a long moment, weighing the unspoken implications. Aldric didn't use words like "significant" lightly.

"Alright," she said finally. "I'm listening."

Aldric leaned back in his chair. The gesture reminded Kess of how he looked when reviewing complex trade agreements.

"As soon as they came through the gate this morning," he began, "I pulled their information. The goblin is Garrik Thornwick. Local innkeeper, good reputation, runs a clean establishment near the outer districts. No concerns there."

Kess nodded. She'd heard of the Thornwick Rest—modest place, but reliable.

"The gnoll is Rurrak Grey-Muzzle," Aldric continued. "We've seen him before with trade groups from Threeburrow. Small settlement, mostly outcasts—goblins, kobolds, gnolls. They trade froststones occasionally, stays out of trouble." He paused, his expression shifting. "The other three, however..."

Kess felt her pulse quicken. Aldric only used that particular tone when something didn't fit established patterns.

"The orc—Mazoga—is an adventurer who disappeared eight months ago. The guild marked her dead." He met Kess's eyes. "She wasn't. She's alive, she's here, and she's gained eleven levels since vanishing."

"Eleven levels in eight months?" Kess blinked. "What happened to her?"

"Unknown. The Adventurer's Guild is trying to find out." Aldric's gray eyes went briefly distant — a rare tell. "But here's where it gets interesting. Marron."

"His caravan was attacked eight months ago by Rellan Vex." Aldric let that sink in. "The Rellan Vex. Bandit lord, voidcaster, operated on the western edge of the Empire. The kind of threat that requires multiple adventurer teams to handle."

Kess understood immediately. "Marron shouldn't be alive."

"Exactly. Not only is he alive, he's here—in the northernmost part of the Empire, thousands of miles from where his caravan was destroyed." Aldric leaned forward. "And somehow, he's traveling with a level forty-six Warden who also shouldn't exist."

The pieces didn't fit. Kess ran through scenarios in her mind—survivor's luck, hidden resources, powerful allies—but none of them explained the geographic impossibility.

"There's more," Aldric said quietly. "I've heard rumors about their wagon. Not the trade goods inside it—the wagon itself. Quality craftsmanship, expensive enchantments. Preservation runes, reinforced suspension, climate control." He paused. "That signals significant wealth, Kess. Real capital."

Kess thought of Marron's clothing—fine wool, well-maintained. The young man beside him had worn simple traveler's gear. Nothing about their presentation screamed wealth.

"What does your skill tell you?" she asked.

Aldric's Market Oracle was legendary—an intuitive awareness of trade patterns, opportunity, and risk that bordered on precognition. If something didn't fit normal patterns, he felt it.

"They're powerful," Aldric said simply. "Not just the Warden. The group. There's structure behind them, Kess. Real organization” He met her eyes. "And whatever they're offering, it's going to be significant."

Kess absorbed that, her mind already cataloging implications. A frontier merchant with guild credentials, traveling with a resurrected Warden, carrying high-grade goods from unknown sources, and backed by wealth they weren't advertising.

"You want me to find out what they are," Kess said. Not a question.

"I want you to decide if we should invest in them." Aldric's expression remained neutral. "Or if they're a risk we can't afford to take."

Kess stood, straightening her robes. "Then I'd better see those samples."

 Aldric nodded, but his expression shifted—still composed, but weighted with caution. "Be careful, Kess. If they're as powerful as they seem to be, we don't want to offend them."

Kess met his gaze, reading the concern beneath his measured tone. Aldric didn't issue warnings lightly.

"I'll be careful," she said. "No assumptions. Just an honest assessment."

Aldric's smile returned—faint, but genuine. "That's why I sent them to you. You're one of the best, Kess."

The compliment landed with quiet warmth. Coming from Aldric, it meant more than flattery.

"I'll send word once I've seen the goods," Kess said, already running through her mental checklist. Portable scales. Sample containers. Assessment tools. The enchanted ledger for immediate valuation.

She moved toward her desk, gathering the supplies she'd need. Behind her, Aldric remained in his chair, silent now—his gray eyes distant with the kind of thoughtful stillness that meant he was running calculations she couldn't see.

Kess secured her evaluation kit and adjusted her guild robes. "I'll report back this evening."

Aldric nodded once. "Good luck."

Kess left the office, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click. The corridor outside remained quiet—midday lull, when most factors were either at lunch or buried in contract negotiations.

She descended the stairs with purposeful strides, her mind already shifting from speculation to procedure. Whatever Marron was offering, she'd approach it the same way she approached every frontier deal.

But as she reached the ground floor and nodded to the receptionist, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered something Aldric hadn't said aloud.

If they're this powerful and they came to us—what does that mean they want?

Aldric remained at the window long after Kess left, watching the familiar rhythm of Splitstone Row below. Merchants. Adventurers. Mages.

The same commerce that had defined these streets for decades.

His Appraise Potential skill had never once fired for routine business. Three times it had flagged something that reshaped the guild's entire northern operation.

It was firing now.