The second day of the festival was in full swing.
As soon as the sun rose, performers filled the streets—musicians, magicians dazzling with tricks both simple and elaborate, dancers, and comics entertaining passersby. Merchants were just as lively. Stalls lined the festival grounds, offering everything from western antiquities and durable weapons imbued with unique attributes to high-quality armor, exotic tunics, and food and produce never before seen or tasted in Zelthoria.
Serys could have earned from her bread stall in the bustling market, but today, something else held her interest—guild tours.
The second day of the festival was when guilds presented their strengths to adventurers seeking a place to belong. The Registry Office hosted smaller guilds that lacked the resources for a permanent guild house, while mid-sized guilds held their exhibitions in inns and pubs. The larger, more established guilds welcomed prospective members into their own halls.
This year, the Golden Sentinels opened their training grounds, eager to display their state-of-the-art facilities and the rare beasts they were rearing. Meanwhile, members of The House of Versarre strutted from their entrance gates to personally escort adventurers through their lavish estate, highlighting luxurious benefits such as a spa, hot spring baths, massages provided by handsome men, and an extensive wardrobe selection for female members.
Exousia, however, had a different approach.
Thirty years ago, their guild house—a three-story mansion known as Blackthorne Mansion—belonged to the infamous Governor Rodion Blackthorne, whose reign of terror plagued the town of Eldoria. He imposed crippling taxes, imprisoned and tortured dissenters, and kept slaves. Eventually, the surviving townsfolk could endure no more. They revolted, and Blackthorne, cornered and defeated, took his own life by hanging himself from the grand staircase.
Afterward, the townspeople uncovered the horrors hidden beneath the mansion. Its basement was a torture chamber filled with grotesque devices—a spiked rope, an automaton designed to crush victims in its embrace, a rack that pulled on ropes tied to limbs, and worse. Human remains were scattered among them. Fear of lingering spirits rendered the mansion uninhabitable, its reputation so vile that no one dared buy it, even at a fraction of its worth.
Then came the trio—Serys, Gress, and Rieze—who saw beyond its grim history. The Registry Office, eager to rid itself of the cursed property, sold it to them for a mere forty thousand gold, far below market value since demolishing it would have cost double. Wwith the help of Gress's aunt, a priestess from the Waldreich Forest, they exorcised every lingering soul, eventually purging the mansion of its dark presence. The ritual spanned several nights, each filled with the echo of sacred chants and the flicker of consecrated flames. Shadows twisted and howled as they were banished, their cries fading into the void. When the final wail died down, the air grew lighter, and a long-forgotten warmth returned to the halls.
Now, the mansion was theirs, a home they had poured their hearts into. The once-dreaded halls now echoed with laughter and warmth. Serys experimented with recipes and alchemical concoctions in the expansive kitchen, Gress hosted young adventurers in the lively dining hall, and Rieze trained aspiring tanks in the well-maintained training yard.
The third floor provided dormitories for adventurers saving up for private accommodations, offering a communal yet comfortable space with sturdy wooden bunks, personal chests, and a shared bathing area. The second floor housed private quarters, each tailored to its occupant's needs—some filled with books and trinkets, others meticulously organized with weapons and armor. The first floor was where the guild gathered; it featured a grand dining hall, a cozy living room with a perpetually crackling fireplace, an extensive library filled with ancient tomes and personal journals, a war room equipped with detailed maps and tactical miniatures, and an entertainment room boasting a variety of board games and enchanted puzzles to unwind after long battles.
The basement's transformation was equally remarkable, expanding into an oasis of leisure and craftsmanship. At its far end, a workshop brimmed with tools for alchemy, potion-making, and gear enhancements—a sanctuary for the guild's tinkerers and creators. Adjacent to it, is a room to store all the materials and ingredients the guild will need not just for crafting but also for their day to day consumption. A natural hot spring, discovered during the mansion's renovations, had been converted into a luxurious bathing area, complete with a sauna and a cold room for recovery after strenuous training. A grand swimming pool provided both relaxation and a means for endurance training. The basement's enchantments also mimicked the natural passage of time, shifting seamlessly between day and night, making it a retreat that never felt disconnected from the world above. It was a place where warriors could recover, scholars could tinker, and every member of Exousia could find a moment of peace amid the chaos of their adventures.
More than just a home, Exousia prided itself on being a haven for adventurers of all backgrounds. They championed camaraderie and mentorship, ensuring every member—no matter their experience level—found guidance and friendship. The walls of the dining hall bore tapestries of their greatest battles, the war room's grand map table carried the marks of countless victorious strategies, and the library, which at first started as the late governor's collection, held ancient tomes waiting to be explored.
Though its past was steeped in darkness, the Blackthorne Mansion—now known as The Scale to Exians and Eldorians—had been reborn, pulsing with life, laughter, and unbreakable bonds. It stood as a testament to resilience—a house once filled with nightmares now brimming with dreams. And the trio could not have been prouder.
While Serys had no plans to lead a tour herself, she was eager to observe how the senior guild members handled the role. Exousia's approach was not about showing off strength or promising greatness. Instead, they emphasized something far more important—finding joy in adventuring alongside kindred spirits. After all, the best adventurers weren't always the most skilled; sometimes, they were simply those who loved the journey.
This year, they entrusted the tours to seasoned members. Trej Danae and Iona Yaroz guided caster classes, while Khai Daemon and Arden Ramir led melee-focused adventurers. Tama Sahkeet, Mira Leonore, Li Wei, and Verscha Belova hosted an open discussion session, answering questions and sharing their experiences. A full day of activities awaited the adventurers, ensuring they got a real taste of Exian spirit.
"I remember my first guild tour," Gaius mused. "The mansion was so haunted, we had to fight off ghouls at every turn." He and Rieze burst into laughter at the memory.
"I know. I was mortified," Rieze admitted. "But we didn't have the money to put out a quest."
"It was a funny hell of a time, though," Gaius said, grinning. "Serys and Gress were charging ahead like maniacs, Sander's clothes dissolved from Spider Rat attacks, and Elric opened a mimic chest. The rest of us were panicking and barely holding on to our lives. It was one of the reasons I stayed. My old guild took itself too seriously—I never felt like I belonged."
"Well, I'm glad you found us, then," Rieze replied. "Where's your old guild now, by the way?"
"Disbanded," Gaius said with a shrug. "It was bound to happen. They focused too much on one thing, with no room to grow, no space to breathe. And they weren't exactly welcoming to newcomers."
Rieze nodded, understanding all too well. Adventurers joined guilds with grand ambitions, but at some point, the monotony of the grind set in. The best guilds, the ones that endured, always offered something more—a respite from self-doubt, a space to explore, and the freedom to rediscover the joy of the journey.
As the tours began, groups of new adventurers hesitated at the threshold of The Scale. A young mage adjusted his ill-fitting robe, a swordswoman shifted from foot to foot, and a beast-tamer clutched a small, chirping wyvern to his chest. Their nervous energy was palpable.
"Don't worry," Khai said with a reassuring grin, clapping a hesitant archer on the shoulder. "You're not signing any blood oaths today."
The tension broke as laughter rippled through the group. Encouraged, they followed their guides inside, wide-eyed as they took in the sheer life that thrived within the mansion's walls.
"So, first things first," Trej Danae announced as they entered the grand foyer. "Who here has ever fought a mimic?"
A few hands hesitantly rose.
"Great! Because our storage room has one," he said with a grin. "And we're going to let you try and open it."
The gasps and groans of protest filled the air, and Serys couldn't help but chuckle. This was exactly what Exousia was about—turning fear into laughter, challenges into excitement, and strangers into companions.