The Guild was not what he imagined.
The tall marble doors had opened with a hiss, spilling the scent of ink, dust, and leather-bound age into the sunlight. He stepped through, adjusting the satchel at his side, eyes wide. This wasn't the hallowed, candle-lit archive the songs spoke of. No, this was—
Chaos.
Scrolls levitated, caught mid-air by frantic aides; sharp quills etched endlessly into hovering ledgers; brass tubes hissed steam as complex machines whispered secrets in whirring tongues. The air buzzed not with silence, but thought, rapid and relentless.
He stood, uncertain, a stranger cloaked in anonymity.
A woman with ink-stained gloves approached. "You look lost," she said, voice clipped.
"I—I'm seeking information," he answered.
Her eyes narrowed. "Name?"
He hesitated. "Cael."
"Last name?"
He smiled with a faint shrug. "Scholar. Cael the Scholar."
Her brow arched, but she said nothing. "Follow me."
She led him past murmuring halls, paper-stuffed elevators, and glyph-inscribed doors until they arrived at a staircase twined in carved vines. Up they went, the noise below fading into unsettling calm.
The door at the top opened to a vast room—quiet, rich, impossibly well-kept. It smelled of polished wood and cinnamon.
"Wait here."
Cael paced. Sat. Stood. His nerves wrestled. This floor was a world apart. Too clean. Too silent.
When the woman returned, it was not the one from before.
She wore precision like a cloak—sharp lines, tailored dress, posture cut from steel. She did not speak right away. She crossed the floor, sat opposite him, and waited.
He cleared his throat. "My name is Cael. Scholar. From a village near the Black Mountains."
She said nothing.
"I seek the truth behind the Sites. They've been appearing across the land, ancient... remnants. I believe they hold knowledge. Power. Things that could elevate entire regions."
Still, she said nothing.
Then—
"It is the Guild's privilege," she began at last, voice smooth and cool, "to assist seekers from across the world."
Relief bloomed.
"But I won't assist you."
"…What?"
"You're lying. You're no scholar."
He stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"You are Cael. True. But not of the Black Mountains. You are of Dorithal. A noble line thought extinguished when raiders razed the keep. You vanished. Now here you are—masquerading as a curious academic. Seeking Sites that may or may not exist."
His blood ran cold.
"Who are you to say that?!" he snapped, rising. "You don't know me—how dare you reduce my journey, my purpose, to some tale in your records!"
She remained seated, unfazed.
"Are you ready," she asked, "to begin telling me the truth?"
He faltered. Breathing heavy. Then—he nodded. "Yes."
She stood and walked toward the window, hands clasped behind her.
"This Guild is larger than you think. We are not bound to these walls. Our presence stretches across the known lands. You were known to us long before you arrived."
He sat again, softer now. "Then why won't you help me?"
"Because the Sites are not your concern."
"They must be. I know I can do more. These ruins—they're older than the nations. They whisper to me. I've seen patterns, alignments, forgotten tongues—"
"No."
"I swear to you, if I could just study them—"
"No."
"Then let me prove it. I'm not just a remnant of a broken house—I'm more."
A pause.
Then, she turned to face him, amusement flickering.
"The world of information is cloaks and daggers, Cael," she said softly. "You're not the only one who's noticed the Sites. But perhaps…" she tilted her head, "we could use help unraveling their truths."
He leaned forward. "Does this mean you'll allow it?"
She walked to the door. Rested her hand on the handle. Then turned back.
"What can you offer," she asked, "aside from seeking knowledge about yourself?"
He swallowed. "I am more than what meets the eye."
A smile touched her lips.
"Then consider your request… approved. You'll have our sponsorship. And the burden that comes with it."
He exhaled in relief, lightness returning to his chest. "Then… what will be my title?"
She opened the door, letting gold light spill into the hall.
"Gamesmaster."
He blinked. Chuckled softly. "Gamesmaster?"
The door shut behind her.
His chuckle faded into puzzled silence.
"…What's a Gamesmaster supposed to be?!"