The morning after the firelit gathering in the Golden Fang's great hall, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Elric strode through the central corridor of the guildhall, his boots echoing across the stone floors. His mind was already three steps ahead—property deals in Redport, staffing shortages in Silvershade, the looming threat of the Silver Talons.
Everything was moving fast. Maybe too fast.
He pushed open the door to the strategy room. Lyra, Harvin, and several senior staff were already seated around the table. A large map of Redport occupied the center, littered with parchment notes, wax seals, and strings pinned between key locations.
"Report," Elric said.
Harvin adjusted his spectacles. "We finalized the land purchase last night. The docks, the adjacent warehouse, and the small smithy behind it—all under Golden Fang ownership now."
"Elric's bribe worked wonders," Lyra added, raising an eyebrow. "Lord Kenforth signed the paperwork himself."
Elric folded his arms. "And the Silver Talons?"
"Not happy," Harvin said. "Their envoy visited Kenforth's estate early this morning. By then, the deed had already been filed with the Council."
"We'll likely see a response," Lyra warned. "They're not known for letting things go."
"Let them respond," Elric said flatly. "We'll match force with force, money with money."
"But we should be cautious," Lyra insisted. "This isn't just about a building. This is about control. Influence. They've operated in Redport for years."
Elric leaned over the map. "Then it's time we stop playing like newcomers. We've got the coin. Let's build something permanent."
He turned to Harvin. "Send the architects. Begin foundation work immediately. I want that guild branch ready within a month. Stone, not wood."
Harvin nodded. "Understood."
Elric's gaze shifted to a second report on the table. "What about the adventurer recruitment? Any progress?"
Lyra shook her head. "Not much. Word is spreading that we're untested. A flash in the pan."
"That's ridiculous," Elric muttered. "We've completed two high-risk contracts successfully. We saved a convoy and negotiated one of the best-paying trade escorts in the region."
"Doesn't matter," she said. "Veterans want guarantees. Prestige. Not potential."
Elric stared at the burning lantern above them for a moment, then looked back. "Then we give them prestige."
Two hours later, Elric stood before the grand double doors of the Silverwall Adventurer Registry, the city's central institution for guild registration, promotion, and ranking. The stone pillars carved with swords and serpents loomed overhead, their artistry a testament to Silverwall's long martial history.
Inside, rows of adventurers—some armored, others robed or cloaked—milled around waiting boards. Clerks scribbled furiously behind polished desks. A massive directory dominated the left wall, listing guild names, tier rankings, and notable achievements.
Elric approached the main counter. A bald, bearded man in a blue robe eyed him with faint interest.
"Elric Vale. Guildmaster of Golden Fang. I'd like to request an audit for tier evaluation."
The man raised a brow. "Already? You've only been registered two weeks."
"We've completed two high-level contracts. The Silvershade convoy protection and the Redport recovery operation."
"And you have evidence?"
Elric pulled out a thick envelope, placing it on the counter. "Signed testimonies. Merchant Guild endorsement. Item logs. Threat kill-lists. We saved thirty-seven civilians and repelled a band of swamp raiders. And Silvershade is willing to send a representative."
The man slowly opened the envelope and skimmed through the top documents. His expression shifted.
"I'll have to verify this, but if true... you may be eligible for Iron-tier status. That would put you above seventy percent of the registered guilds."
Elric gave a satisfied nod. "That's the plan."
Meanwhile, Lyra was busy with another crucial matter.
She moved swiftly through the artisan district, weaving between carts of iron ore and shouting smiths. Her destination: a small, aging forge tucked behind a row of stables. Its sign was faded, but the symbol—an anvil with twin crossed hammers—was unmistakable.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and heat. A burly woman with a braided beard and arms like tree trunks paused mid-swing, her hammer frozen above a half-formed blade.
"Lyra?"
"Elda," she said, stepping forward. "We need to talk."
Elda grinned. "Let me guess. You're here about armor. Again."
Lyra nodded. "But not just armor. We want you as our exclusive supplier."
The blacksmith frowned. "You're expanding."
"Fast," Lyra replied. "We're going to need custom gear. Uniform design. Scalable for Iron, Bronze, and future tiers. And enchantment-compatible."
Elda leaned on her anvil. "That's a tall order."
"We'll pay double the standard rate. Materials included."
"Triple."
"Done," Lyra said instantly. "But you join the guild as a technical member. Workshop space provided. You'll have your own smithy at Redport once the branch is complete."
Elda's eyes twinkled. "Now that... that sounds interesting."
Back at the Golden Fang guildhall, Harvin met with the returning scouts.
Three young men stood before him, each bearing travel grime and rolled-up scrolls.
"We've completed the survey of the western passage," one said. "Bandit activity has decreased since your last intervention."
Harvin nodded. "Any signs of monster migration?"
"Wyvern sightings increased near the Raven's Bluff."
"Good. Note it down. We'll organize a contract around it."
He looked up. "And thank you. Your reports are detailed. We'll factor them into the new mission postings."
As they left, Harvin quietly marveled at the efficiency of it all. A month ago, they were unorganized. Now, they had routines, reports, forecasts. A real structure.
That evening, Elric stood again before the fireplace. This time, only a few staff were present: Lyra, Harvin, Elda, and a couple senior recruits. The flames flickered softly against the walls.
"We're going to be audited next week," Elric said. "If we pass, we get Iron-tier status."
Lyra sipped from a glass. "That would push us ahead of half the guilds in Silverwall."
"We're also finalizing uniform designs," he continued. "Elda will oversee equipment production and help outfit both the central base and Redport."
Elda grunted. "I'll need two more assistants. Maybe three."
"You'll have them," Elric replied. "And we're setting up a fund for enchanting services. Low-level enhancements first. Fire resistance, stamina recovery, weapon sharpening."
Harvin placed a ledger on the table. "We'll need more funds if we want to sustain that alongside Redport's expansion."
Elric nodded. "Then we'll secure another contract."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "You planning to chase down a dragon next?"
Elric smirked. "Only if it's carrying treasure."
The next day, the Golden Fang received a sealed scroll, bearing the crimson wax of the Silverwall Merchant Authority.
Elric broke the seal and unrolled it carefully.
To the Esteemed Guildmaster Elric Vale,
The Merchant Authority of Silverwall formally recognizes your guild's contribution to the recent Silvershade operation and your successful acquisition of property in Redport. We hereby extend an invitation to participate in the Annual City Defense Auction—a sealed bid contract for defense rights over three central trade routes.
This opportunity is extended only to guilds with outstanding conduct and financial backing.
Further details enclosed.
Regards,
Kerrik Morn,
Merchant Minister of Silverwall
Elric's hands tightened on the scroll.
This was it. Their break into the elite circles.
He turned to Lyra, who was just entering. "Prepare a bid proposal. I want every detail about those trade routes. Bandit history, estimated convoy income, competitor patterns. Everything."
Her eyes lit up with the same fire he felt inside. "I'll get on it."
But not everyone was celebrating.
Far across the city, in a shaded hall lit by torches and incense, the leader of the Silver Talons sat in silence. He was a wiry man with sharp cheekbones and a serpent tattoo around his neck.
A younger lieutenant approached. "The Golden Fang beat us to the Redport docks. The Council legitimized their claim."
The man exhaled slowly through his nose. "So the upstarts want to play politics."
"They're rising fast. Too fast."
"And that means they're vulnerable."
The man stood, his shadow long against the back wall. "Send word to our contacts in the Adventurer's Registry. If they want an audit... we'll make sure it's thorough."
"And if they pass?"
The man smiled thinly. "Then we burn their success down around them. One brick at a time."
Back at the Golden Fang, Elric was unaware of the quiet threats forming in the dark.
He walked through the dormitories where recruits were resting. Some were polishing weapons, others whispering stories of battles yet to be fought. He stopped beside a window that overlooked the training yard.
So much had changed.
So much still needed to be done.
But for the first time since he awoke in this strange world, Elric felt that the empire he had built on Earth—his wealth, his power—had not been wasted. It had simply transformed.
He wasn't just buying influence anymore.
He was building legacy.
And soon, the whole kingdom would know the name: Golden Fang.