The cobblestone street widened as Sylvaine and Joshey came around the plaza's bend.
"There," Sylvaine said, pointing ahead.
The Guild was impossible to miss. It wasn't just a building — it was a statement. Pale stone walls reinforced with mana-etched pillars, a bronze crest of a sword crossed with a quill mounted above enormous double doors. Azure lines of mana pulsed faintly along the arches, alive and rhythmic.
Joshey whistled under his breath. "Damn… HR never looked like this back in Lagos."
Sylvaine shot him a side-eye. "HR?"
He coughed, waving it off. "Long story."
The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere hit him like a wave — noise and order, chaos and law stitched together. The hall buzzed with life: adventurers in armor trading monster parts, merchants negotiating contracts under glowing glyphs, clerks stamping parchments with mana-seals that chimed faintly at each approval.
Joshey muttered, half to himself, "Feels like Wall Street got married to Hogwarts."
Elias groaned inside his head. *"What nonsense are you spouting? Focus."*
"Yeah, yeah," Joshey whispered back, earning a confused glance from Sylvaine.
Sylvaine steered him toward the central counters, beneath a domed ceiling. Mana screens hovered over crescent-shaped desks. Thanks to Elias's memories, Joshey could read them perfectly. She led him to Contracts & Arbitration.
The clerk there — a thin elf with ink-stained gloves — raised his brow. "Miss Sylvaine," he greeted politely. "To what do we owe the honor?"
Sylvaine gestured at Joshey. "He needs a loan. Three million florins."
The clerk's quill nearly snapped. His gaze darted to Joshey. "…Three million?"
Joshey gave his most professional Lagos-recruiter smile. "Yup. Business startup. Full repayment in one year."
Elias's voice shrieked inside his head. *"Stop saying it so casually! You sound like a madman!"*
The clerk blinked twice. "Very well. The Guild will require collateral, witnesses, and a mana-signature. Step into the Oath Chamber."
As they followed, Sylvaine glanced sideways at him. "Three million, huh? You've really changed, Elias."
Joshey grinned. "For the better, I hope."
*"For the dumber,"* Elias muttered.
They entered the round Oath Chamber. A silver mandala glowed faintly on the floor, its lines pulsing in anticipation.
For Joshey, it felt like stepping into the center of a heartbeat.
The silver mandala dimmed beneath Joshey's palm as the Oath Chamber sealed his signature into mana-thread. A final, resonant hum vibrated through the polished obsidian table before fading into silence.
The clerk's quill left the final, elaborate flourish in the massive ledger. With a soft chime, a heavy, iron-bound chest shimmered into existence on the side counter—Guild escrow delivered in full.
"Three million florins, contract signed and sealed," the clerk intoned, his eyes lingering on Sylvaine with a look of pure bafflement.
Joshey stepped forward, his hand closing around the chest's cold, wrought-iron handle. He hefted it with both hands, the weight startlingly solid.
"Thank you," he said, turning to Sylvaine with a genuine, relieved smile. "Seriously. You saved me today."
Sylvaine uncrossed her arms, her expression a complex tapestry of wry amusement and deep-seated suspicion. "Don't thank me yet, Elias. You still have to pay it back. In a year. With interest." Her tone was light, but her silver eyes were serious. "The Guild doesn't deal in extensions. That chest comes with chains you can't see."
"I remember," Joshey said, his voice firm. "I will."
He hesitated. "Actually… there's something else. Mana engineering. The theories… they're in my head now." He tapped his temple. "But knowing and doing are two different things. I need to learn how to actually control it. Not just make it… explode."
Sylvaine let out a short, breathy laugh. "Of course you do. You burn a hole in your roof and suddenly you're ready for the advanced curriculum." She tapped his forehead lightly. "Not now. The sun is setting, and I've got a diner to run."
She saw the flicker of disappointment on his face and relented. "But— I can spare some weekends. I'll stop by your place. We can see if that control of yours was a fluke. Consider it part of my investment. A faulty vessel isn't a good risk."
Joshey's face lit up. "Really? That's… thank you, Sylvaine. Again."
"Mm," she hummed. "Just try not to blow up another ceiling before then. It's bad for business."
With a final, appraising look, she turned and left.
Joshey stood for a moment longer in the silent, powerful room, the weight of the chest in his hand and the weight of his promise hanging in the air. Then, squaring his shoulders, he followed her out.
***
Joshey stood in the bustling Guild plaza, the weight of the chest a sobering counterpoint to the surreal high of securing the loan.
"I can't believe she actually did it," he thought.
Elias's voice, sharp and dripping with acidic triumph, sliced through his daze. *"Of course you didn't! You were running your mouth with a life that isn't yours! And now look! Three million florins! We'll be indentured for a hundred lifetimes!"*
Joshey winced. "We'll be fine. It's an investment."
*"An investment in what?!"* Elias shrieked. *"You have a farm that barely yields enough to pay the land tax! What business? What plan? You gave me nothing! What are you going to do, buy a million rakes?!"*
A slow grin spread across Joshey's face. "You're thinking too small, Elias. You see a farm. I see an untapped market." He turned on his heel, striding back towards the imposing Guild doors.
*"What are you doing? Where are you going? We just left!"* Elias's confusion was palpable.
"You asked what the plan is," Joshey said, his voice low and steady. "So I'll show you. Watch and learn."
He bypassed the crowded counters, his gaze fixed on a quieter wing marked by glowing sigils of scales and scrolling numerical runes. The air here was different—less sweat and steel, more calculated silence.
He stopped before a door with a polished brass placard: Market Operations & Liquidity.
He took a steadying breath, smoothed down his rough-spun tunic, and knocked firmly.
A crisp, female voice called out, "Come in."
Joshey pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving a bewildered Elias screaming into the void.
The door clicked shut behind Joshey, sealing him in a room that was a temple of orderly commerce. Behind a meticulously organized desk sat Secretary Evelyn Hartwell. Her hair was swept into a severe bun, and her eyes, the color of flint, assessed him in a single, unnervingly comprehensive glance.
"Please, take a seat," she said, her voice crisp and efficient, devoid of warmth.
Joshey sat, placing the heavy chest on the floor with a soft thud.
"Name and business?" she asked, her quill poised.
"My name is Elias. I wish to acquire the operating rights to a market under guild jurisdiction—specifically, one dealing in weapons and garments."
The scratching of her quill stopped. Evelyn Hartwell looked up, her gaze sharp enough to pin him to his chair. "A market license," she stated, her tone making it clear the request was both unusual and suspect. "That is not a minor petition. Establishments dealing in such goods fall under stringent guild regulation. Why do you believe you are qualified?"
*"Do tell the nice lady why you're qualified,"* Elias taunted. *"Failed farmer, pyro-mana dropout, and now, a real estate mogul with three million florins of someone else's money."*
Joshey ignored him, leaning forward slightly. "I have the capital required to not only purchase the rights but to sustainably operate and secure the venture. My intention is to create a centralized, highly regulated hub. Consolidating trade minimizes rogue trading, standardizes quality, and increases levy collection efficiency. It benefits the guild's authority and the community's safety."
Evelyn's expression did not change. "Many individuals have capital. That alone does not grant credibility. Do you have prior experience? Established connections? Or are you simply an opportunist with a chest of coin and no understanding of the complexities involved?"
*"She sees right through you!"* Elias crowed.
Joshey chose strategic honesty. "I will not claim a long-standing history in trade. However, I am resourceful and an adept negotiator. I have begun outreach to local artisans who are currently underserved. They are eager for a fair, centralized platform. But more importantly, I am prepared to commit to the guild's fees and oversight consistently—as a long-term partnership."
Evelyn Hartwell leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. Her eyes narrowed, assessing him as a risk-to-reward ratio. "And what of security? A weapons market is a beacon for black-market dealers. How do you intend to prevent your establishment from becoming a haven for such elements?"
*"Please, enlighten us,"* Elias hissed. *"How will you stop the thieves? With your fearsome rake?"*
Joshey's gaze remained steady. "Through proactive cooperation with the guild itself. I propose that all merchants be required to hold a guild-issued vendor's permit, vetted by your office. Furthermore, I would formally request that the guild appoint its own inspectors to be stationed on-site, their salaries covered by a percentage of the market's levy income. This ensures compliance and demonstrates that the operation is an extension of the guild's authority, not a challenge to it."
There was a long silence broken only by the soft scratch of Evelyn's quill as she made notes.
Finally, she set her quill down. "You present a… curiously structured proposal. It is either shrewdly calculated or dangerously naïve." She closed her ledger with a definitive snap. "Very well. I will document your petition and present it to the Guild Master. You will wait here until he is ready. Do not mistake this for approval. Should you fail to meet the guild's standards, the consequences will be severe. Your license will be revoked, your assets seized, and your standing permanently forfeit. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Joshey gave a respectful nod. "Perfectly clear, Secretary Hartwell. My goal is to strengthen the guild's trade network, not test its patience."
Evelyn Hartwell gave a curt, dismissive nod. "Then you may wait. Do not touch anything."
The audience was over. For now.
The silence in the office was absolute. Joshey sat perfectly still, the image of patient composure.
Internally, it was a warzone.
*"This is what your 'plan' has earned us,"* Elias's voice was a scalpel. *"A waiting room and a threat of permanent exile. She doesn't believe you. This is an inquisition waiting to happen."*
*Just trust me, Elias,* Joshey thought back, the mental words firm. *I know what I'm doing.*
*"Trust you?"* The laugh in Elias's mind was hollow. *"You are a ghost wearing my skin! You speak of 'visions.' My body is the stake on your table. So, I will ask you again: what is your end game? What do you truly desire?"*
He pushed harder, his mental voice raw. *"I gave you my memories so you could find a way to untangle us. To free us both from this prison. Was that not the point?"*
Joshey's composure didn't flicker, but internally, he flinched.
*It was. It is,* Joshey admitted, the thought quieter. *I will find a way to give you your life back. I promise.*
*"Then why this?!"* Elias demanded. *"Why shackle us to this debt? Why draw this much attention?"*
*Because I can't just leave.*
The thought was heavy, freighted with a guilt Elias could feel but not understand.
*In my world,* Joshey continued, mental images flashing—a sleek black mask, cold gloves, the weight of a gun. *I… was something else. I thought I was an arbiter. A savior. I thought I was delivering justice. But I wasn't. I was just a man with a gun and a reason to be angry. And my… my oldest friend. He died because of me. Because of what I was.*
The memory was a shard of ice in his heart.
*If I am to leave this body,* Joshey thought, the conviction solidifying, *if I am to leave you, I will not do it as that man. I need to do what is right. I need to make a positive impact. For once. I need to leave you better than I found you. Not with a patched roof, but with a legacy. This… this is me trying to do that. This is me trying to be the savior I pretended to be.*
The silence between them was different now. The taunting edge was gone from Elias's presence, replaced by a wary, bewildered contemplation.
*"You… killed your friend?"* Elias asked, his voice a mental whisper.
*I thought I was saving him from something worse,* Joshey replied. *I was wrong.*
For a long moment, there was no response.
Finally, Elias's voice came, quieter, stripped of its venom. *"A positive impact…?"* He sounded like he was testing the words.
*"Just… try not to get us enslaved before you achieve this 'legacy,'"* he muttered, the fear still there but now tempered by a sliver of desperate, hesitant curiosity.
Before Joshey could respond, the door to the inner office opened. Secretary Hartwell stood there, her expression impassive.
"The Guild Master will see you now."