Evan and Runa finally arrived at the imposing Kubu Fort. The moment they entered, a flurry of activity surrounded them. Guild members bustled about, carrying supplies, weapons, and reports.
Evan dismounted and turned to Runa. "You report to the administration. Make sure they document everything. I'll handle the rest."
Runa nodded, understanding the urgency of their tasks. She headed straight to the guild's administrative wing, where an attentive clerk began meticulously recording her report. Every detail of their mission was noted, ensuring the guild had all the information needed for future references.
Meanwhile, Evan climbed the staircase leading to Dyeva's office. The leader of the Golden Sun Guild was seated at her desk, her expression calm despite the fatigue that lingered in her posture. Her dark hair framed her sharp, calculating eyes as she looked up at Evan.
"Runa succeeded," Evan reported, standing at attention.
Dyeva's lips curved into a faint smile. "Of course she did. I wouldn't have sent her if I thought otherwise." Her tone carried a quiet certainty, as though the outcome had never been in question.
Evan hesitated, sensing something unspoken in her demeanor. Dyeva leaned back in her chair, her gaze thoughtful.
"Evan, let me ask you something," she began, her voice softer now. "What would you do if there was something you've been holding onto for a long time? Something that's becoming unbearable but letting it go might bring consequences you're not ready for?"
The question caught Evan off guard, but he quickly composed himself.
"I'd think about the cost," he said after a moment. "Not just to me, but to the people around me. If holding it back is doing more harm than good, then maybe it's time to face those consequences head-on."
Dyeva's gaze lingered on him, a flicker of something—approval, perhaps—in her eyes. "You have a way of cutting through the noise, Evan. Go rest. You've earned it."
The following evening, the main team gathered on the third floor of the guild hall for a celebratory feast. The room was alive with laughter and camaraderie, a rare moment of relaxation for these seasoned warriors. Long tables were laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, and pitchers of ale.
Gerrard stood and raised his glass. "To Runa," he declared, his voice carrying over the din. "Our newest main team member. May your strength and wits keep you alive in the madness that lies ahead."
The room erupted in cheers and applause. Runa, seated at the center of the table, blushed under the attention but managed a grateful smile.
"Welcome to the guild where every mission feels like a death wish," Ourra said with a mischievous grin. He leaned in closer to Runa. "Did I ever tell you about the time I had to fend off a band of High Orcs with nothing but a broken dagger and half a bottle of ale?"
Runa's eyes widened. "Did that really happen?"
Ourra shrugged, his grin widening. "Depends on who you ask." The table burst into laughter.
Across the room, Yvette sat quietly, her smile subdued. Evan noticed her demeanor and moved to sit beside her.
"You've been quiet," he said gently. "Something on your mind?"
Yvette hesitated before replying. "Do you ever wonder if the choices we make will ruin us? If one wrong decision could bring everything crashing down?"
Evan leaned back, considering her words. "Every day. But fear won't change what's ahead. We just have to trust ourselves and face it."
His words seemed to ease her tension. Yvette's smile returned, genuine this time. "Thanks, Evan. You always know what to say."
Four days later, the watchtower guards spotted a royal banner approaching from the horizon. The guild quickly assembled at the front of the hall, awaiting the arrival of the Second Prince.
The prince's entourage rode in with practiced precision, the royal banner fluttering in the wind. Prince Mettan dismounted first, his small stature and golden hair making him appear almost ethereal.
Despite his modest frame, his piercing blue eyes held an undeniable intensity. He greeted the guild members with a humble nod before shaking hands with Dyeva.
"It's an honor to meet the legendary leader of the Golden Sun Guild," he said, his voice smooth but earnest.
Dyeva inclined her head. "The honor is ours, your highness. Please, come inside."
In the meeting hall, Dyeva, Evan, and Gerrard represented the guild, while the prince was accompanied by his private guard, Sir Ello Dun. After the formalities, the prince spoke plainly.
"I've come seeking your protection," Mettan began, his tone steady but laced with a quiet desperation.
"Not as the crown prince, but as a man trying to survive a power struggle. I do not desire the throne, but my younger brother refuses to let me live my life freely. I need allies, and the Golden Sun Guild is the only force capable of ensuring my survival."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling heavily over the table. Dyeva's gaze lingered on the young prince, her sharp eyes scrutinizing every word, every gesture. Gerrard leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but clearly focused on processing the implications. Even Sir Ello Dune, the prince's private guard, seemed taken aback by Mettan's forthrightness.
"In exchange," Mettan continued, leaning slightly forward, "I offer resources and funding to sustain your guild even after the royal coffers have cut the support. My wealth doesn't come from the palace but from trade. I've built one of the largest trading enterprises in the region. By the age of twenty, I was among the top five wealthiest merchants, and I've only grown since. I can ensure your survival in return for mine."
There was a pause, as if Mettan was carefully weighing his next words.
"This is not a plea for help, nor is it an attempt to exploit your guild. It's a mutual agreement. You gain the stability and independence to continue your vital work without interference, and I gain a measure of safety."
Dyeva's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of her chair, her expression calm but calculating.
"This is a significant proposal, Your Highness. The Golden Sun Guild's reputation has always been built on neutrality and independence. Siding with a member of the royal family—especially in a matter of succession—could compromise that."
Mettan nodded. "I understand your hesitation. That's why I've come here personally, rather than sending an envoy. This alliance would be built on trust, and I intend to prove myself worthy of it."
Evan, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was measured, but there was an undertone of his characteristic loyalty and practicality.
"Your Highness, if we were to accept, what guarantees would we have? Protecting you would inevitably put us in conflict with those who seek to harm you. Would your resources be sufficient to sustain us through those challenges?"
Mettan met Evan's gaze, his blue eyes fierce yet humble.
"I do not make promises lightly. My resources are vast, my connections extensive. But more than that, I understand the value of this guild's work. This is not just about my survival—it's about ensuring that the Golden Sun Guild can continue its mission without being shackled by the whims of the court."
The weight of his words hung in the air. Finally, Dyeva nodded slowly.
"This is a matter that requires careful consideration. Allow us time to deliberate. You'll have our answer soon."
In the days that followed, the proposal became the primary topic of discussion among the Golden Sun Guild's main team. Heated debates erupted as each member voiced their thoughts.
Ourra, ever the bold and impulsive one, was the first to speak.
"It's a no-brainer. The royal coffers have been tightening their grip on us for years. If we don't secure independent funding, we're at their mercy. This deal gives us the freedom to keep doing what we do best."
Yvette, was more cautious. "But at what cost? Siding with one prince means making an enemy of another. If we're drawn into their power struggle, it could jeopardize everything we've built."
Runa, the newest member of the main team, hesitated before speaking. "It's risky, but isn't that what we do? Take risks to protect the people who depend on us? If the prince is genuine, this could be our chance to solidify the guild's future."
Evan, as always, was pragmatic. "We need to think long-term. Resources are crucial, but so is our reputation. If we lose the trust of the people or the respect of other guilds, no amount of funding will save us."
Gerrard, who had remained silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke. His deep voice carried a note of finality.
"We need to tread carefully, but this isn't a decision we can avoid. Whether we accept or reject the prince's proposal, it will shape the guild's future. Let's be sure we make the right choice."
Weeks passed, and Mettan returned to the capital, awaiting the guild's decision. Life at Kubu Fort resumed its rhythm, though the tension of the pending decision lingered.