Morning in Silverwall broke with the peal of distant bells. Elric stood at the open balcony outside his quarters, arms resting on the railing, eyes scanning the cobbled streets below. Merchants had already begun to stir. Wooden carts clattered over the uneven stone roads, children sprinted barefoot past bakers setting up their wares, and in the distance, the cathedral bell tolled solemnly. The city was alive.
But more importantly, his guild was alive.
The Golden Fang—his brainchild, his gamble, his monument to a second chance—was gaining shape. The Redport mission had seeded their reputation, and the Silvershade contract confirmed their value. Still, Elric knew that fame and money were fuel—not structure. Without the bones, the entire venture would collapse.
He stepped back inside, where papers littered his desk: architectural drafts, budget breakdowns, scouting reports, and troop logs. The ink on the Silvershade agreement was barely dry, but already, the pressure was mounting.
"You didn't sleep. Again," Lyra said, entering with two cups of dark brew.
"Sleep is expensive," he muttered, accepting the drink.
She smirked. "So is burnout."
He exhaled through his nose, then walked over to the map on the wall. Pins had been set into it—colored according to trade routes, regional power centers, and known threats.
"Today we expand," he said simply. "We need that outpost in Redport established. And if Silvershade's moving five convoys a month, we'll need a permanent team stationed there."
Lyra nodded. "We're short on hands. The trainers can only do so much, and we can't send recruits into unknown territory without supervision."
"We'll hire." Elric flipped a page. "A hundred mercenaries with decent records, preferably from out of town. Pay premium to lure them."
"Expensive," she noted.
"Yes," he replied. "But if we can show this guild is reliable and well-funded, we'll attract top-tier adventurers soon. Think of this batch as scaffolding."
She took a seat opposite him. "We also need to open the sponsorship program for local fighters. Pay their fees at the Adventurer's Guild, tie them to us in exchange for guild gear and support."
He scribbled the idea onto a parchment. "Do it. Two tiers: Bronze and Iron. Offer housing for Iron-ranked fighters."
"We have space?"
"We'll make it."
By afternoon, Harvin had returned from the guild registry. His face was pale.
"You won't like this," he began.
Elric looked up.
"Silver Talons are challenging our Redport station. Claim we're stepping into their territory."
Elric frowned. "Guild war? Already?"
"They're threatening to buy the Redport docks out from under us. And Silvershade has a history with them—bad blood."
Lyra looked thoughtful. "We can't afford to get dragged into their politics."
Elric leaned back. "Then we win legally. Buy the land ourselves—fast. We'll send a team to Redport to handle negotiations. Harvin, draft the property transfer documents. Send Lenn and Torren to oversee the deal. I want a full lease and building contract within 48 hours."
Harvin nodded slowly. "We'll need a city noble's signature."
"Bribe if we must. Do whatever it takes."
While Harvin worked on the legal front, Elric took to the training grounds. The yard was now bustling. Dozens of new recruits were sparring under instructors' watchful eyes. The clang of steel and the rhythmic thump of wooden staves hitting straw dummies filled the air.
Among them, Elric spotted Hilda and Markus—his first picks. They were coaching a group of nervous teenagers in basic stance.
He walked over. "Good to see you two giving back."
Markus flushed slightly, but nodded. Hilda merely gave a quiet nod.
"You two will lead the Redport guard."
They froze.
"We're not ready," Markus said quickly.
"You are," Elric replied. "You proved yourselves on the caravan run. Now prove yourselves as leaders. A squad of fifteen will accompany you. You'll secure the building site, maintain order, and report every morning."
Hilda swallowed, then nodded. "We won't fail."
Elric clapped them both on the shoulder. "Good. You leave in two days."
That night, a fire crackled in the common hall. Staff, fighters, scribes, and new faces had gathered. Elric stood by the hearth, watching the growing family his money—and their courage—was building.
The room hushed as he stepped forward.
"A week ago, we were nobodies. One mission, one contract. Today, we are a name. Tomorrow, we will be a force."
He let the silence hang.
"We're building something real. Not just a guild. A future. For all of us."
Glasses clinked. Voices rose.
And The Golden Fang roared into its next chapter.