A while later, and 4 Stone Gold richer, Windy's appetite for conversation has long been sated, and Henna isn't showing any signs of being willing to come back downstairs. But on the rather more literal bright side, the rainclouds have begun to pass by and the gales have long since dissipated, allowing the sun to shine through once more.

Heaving a sigh, I push up and away from the counter, then set about extinguishing the wall lamps to preserve the oil. It's fairly cheap, as alchemical products go, one of the few daily necessities that the Empire deliberately makes affordable for the ordinary commonfolk, but there's no need to be wasteful.

"Mm? Is it time to leave?" Windy rouses from her stupor, shaking off the haze.

"More or less. I believe we'll be a little early, but since the weather's changed for the better, it'd be a good idea to leave now in case it returns," I explain, snuffing out the last lamp.

"No arguments there, I feel so sticky right now," she complains with a yawn.

"My condolences," I respond drily, "We'll have our own bathrooms in a few days time, so just bear with it."

"Oh, do we get en suites?" Windy perks up.

"No idea, to be completely honest," My old room at our compound in Fierdro had one, but I'm not that familiar with the layout of our soon-to-be-headquarters past Rambling Rose's 1-Star Employment Bureau and the main lobby.

"Here's hopin'," she stretches, groaning, "Stiff. Chafing. Need a hot bath badlyyyy...."

"There'll be some sort of facility, I would imagine," I clasp my hands together, then call out loud enough that Henna should be able to hear from wherever she's holed herself up upstairs, "We're leaving! I'll be back tomorrow, the Schematics are behind the counter!"

Waiting for a moment, there's no response or any sign of movement. Might be she went to sleep, she definitely looked tired - but if it's still like this tomorrow, I'll deal with her then. Don't want her backsliding, as I've almost done a few times. The urge to meddle remains strong after so many years spent fishing for Quests, and it will take time to break the habit when it comes to interacting with friends.

It doesn't help that a certain kind of emotionally charged subject matter dominates most of our conversations.

"Uhh, Alex?" Windy calls my name - my real name - then winces, "I mean, Silver. Sorry."

"It's fine, it's just us here," I drag my focus outwards.

"If you wanna go check in on Henna, I don't think it'll make a difference, time-wise," she offers her support.

"No," I deny it outright, shaking my head, "It'll do more harm than good if I go running over to console Henna every time her mood sours."

Windy nods in understanding, her face empathetic, "Sure."

"Let's get going," I mumble, swapping the monocle out for my helmet.

---

 

The Mole and Field Tavern, Meteo Town

Compared to our last visit, the tavern is noticeably quieter, but no less busy. It was and still is a popular hang-out spot for Newborn players, who by now only do odd jobs around the town in exchange for drinking money which they spend here and socialise amongst themselves with. With Miner's Nightmare occupied by DDA, and Ujax Forest considered a forbidden zone to these players, this is the only thing left to most of them.

Things are slowly starting to change, once again, thankfully, as a result of my efforts and the change in fortunes I've enabled in a few of the more dedicated groups, but it doesn't excuse the fact that I blundered in the first place by acting incautiously. The Siege was much further ahead in the schedule than it should have been, and my own success isn't having the inspirational effect I was looking to cultivate - rather, the opposite.

There's a pervasive attitude growing amongst the local Newborn that there's no point in digging too deeply or trying too hard because either I've already done it, or am going to take it for myself soon anyway. I haven't made any attempt to defend my actions or call out my detractors publically since that would only escalate things further. Simply put, they're the ones who need to get over themselves and put in the effort, just like I wanted them to do from the start. Otherwise, this is all they'll amount to, and I'll need to pin my hopes on the wave of newcomers after RotA instead.

I've no time to waste on a lost cause.

"Is it just me, or is everyone staring at us?" Windy whispers.

She's not wrong. Once the patrons noticed us enter, their attentions were arrested away from whatever conversations they were having and the bottoms of their mugs, throwing looks of helplessness, jealousy and mild awe our way. Which I can't help but find a little funny, inwardly, considering how utterly common our equipment is in the Empire of Stone. The only differences being in the details, like the absence of heraldry and squad colours.

"Ignore them," I murmur, "They're welcome to look, so long as they keep their peace."

Gesturing up the stairs, I lead the way, stopping abruptly when I notice a smug-faced Silva man sticking his foot out in my path. Not interested in starting a row, I make a point to walk around it, ignoring him entirely. Whether drunk or deeply resentful, he snarls, shooting up from his chair, a sharp squeak of wood on wood alerting me to his movement before he tries to grab my shoulder.

"Hey!"

I let him. Despite his best efforts to force me to turn and face him, I stand firm, and take another step as though he wasn't even there. Which, for the difference in our attributes, may as well be the case. To his credit, he tries to keep his grip, only for it to be abruptly removed.

"Don't push it, man," Windy's cold voice informs him.

"Fuck're you tr-agh!" he screeches in agony.

"Just sit back down, shut up, and go back to drinking, 'k?" she instructs him sweetly, "God, how old are you?"

Amusing as this is, staying for too long risks making matters worse, so I continue on heedless of the resentment bubbling behind me, Windy following along a step away. When we reach the top of the stairs, she breaks into a minor giggling fit, steadying herself against the bannister.

"That was so cool," she proclaims, restraining herself.

"You rather ruined it just now," I chuckle, smirking beneath my helmet.

"Eh, I held it in," Windy clears her throat and straightens up, "Ok, I'm good. I'm good."

"Don't overdo it," I chide, "I seem to recall that, just today, in fact, you were claiming that I have a habit of starting fights."

"Hey, don't put all of this on me, you're not innocent either, boss," Windy protests, "I just stopped it going further."

I'll concede that. But I don't say anything to the effect out loud, keeping my mouth firmly shut as I stroll over to an empty table. The second common area is far less populated, so it's not difficult, with most people preferring to stay downstairs and close to the bar rather than walk up and down the stairs over and over again, as they become steadily tipsier and the risk of an accident small or large increases.

With how frequently it gets rowdy downstairs, the serving staff don't often have the time to spare for people up here. Which suits me just fine, and is why it becomes more popular with the more 'serious' crowd. I vaguely recognise one or two people from the Wolf Hunt hunting party and a group that came to Stone Arsenal in spite of the weather looking to get their gear identified kitted out in said equipment, celebrating quietly in the corner.

"Do you want to get anything to drink, boss?" Windy offers as we sit down.

"No. I seldom drink as is, but entering negotiations even mildly inebriated is a bad look for us," I reject her.

"Doesn't have to be beer, maybe they have juice or lemonade or something, I don't know," she huffs.

"They don't, believe me," Most varieties of fruit are expensive to come by 'round these parts, especially at this time of year. Lemons don't exist on Merrow either, though a few things come close enough. Those that are affordable are either close to going rotten or gathered from Ujax Forest on the behalf of the Pioneers' Alliance for merchant clients.

"It's a matter of professionalism and also a waste of money," I insist, closing off any possibility of a retort, "If you're thirsty, you should still have some water in your inventory."

"You must be a riot at parties," Windy complains, "Fine, fine. No booze."

"We're not here for a social gathering, we're here for business," I remind her, "Why are you stuck on this?"

"Because I haven't had anything since the night before I left Paris," she grumbles, "And I'm seriously unused to being completely sober for so long. It's not natural."

"It sounds to me like you could use the break from it."

"I want to argue, but Angelus is here," Windy clears her throat, "Yo, Ange!"

"What are you fighting about?" Angelus sits across from us, smelling vaguely of smoke and bleach.

"Her developing alcoholism," I inform him drily.

"I am not an add-"

"Remind me what your major was again?" I cut her protest short.

"What about it?" Windy questions, on edge.

"Recall what you said a moment ago, and with the benefit of that knowledge, tell me I'm exaggerating," I rest my case.

"I-" she stops, collects herself and breathes deeply, "I'm not addicted. It just helps me destress, and I've been under a lot of stress lately."

"That is one of the reasons alcohol addiction manifests, y'know," Angelus chimes in.

"Oh, don't you start as well," Windy slams the table with her palm, "Can we just drop this now? Please?"

"Yes. I've said my piece," I shrug. If she's going to take my request to keep me in check seriously, the least I can do is return the favour, I feel.

While she stews away and hopefully reflects a little, I move on to the subject of Angelus' return from the basement floors of the Pioneers' Alliance. He gives the impression of someone who's had a productive go of something.

"So, how'd you fare?" I start us off.

"Well enough. I managed to eke out 3-Star Novice Alchemist in the time I had. Admittedly, I spent more time questioning the NPCs than I did actually training the skill," Angelus smiles peacefully, glancing at Windy momentarily, concerned, "Got a sense for the local market, what reagents can be found nearby and what needs to be bought."

"We'll be relying on you in the short-term, then," I bow my head slightly out of respect. Alchemists are probably the second most important non-combat profession to the long-term success of a Guild because of the breadth and depth of products they can create, not just limited to potions. Most important, surprisingly, isn't the obvious choice of Merchant, but Scholars, which Angelus is also happily training in, because of it's numerous synergies with other professions, the value of knowledge in and of itself and so much more.

Without a skilled research team for multiple fields of study, independent progression is a pipedream, and you will always be forced to play second fiddle to others who have the advantages they bring.

"Sure," Angelus smiles, "I have to say though, the crafting system is extraordinarily limiting."

"It is," I concur, "But even if manual crafting were something possible for players, without the relevant attainment in rank, experimentation will only lead to showpieces and faulty products, if synthesis is successful at all."

"So you mentioned," Angelus thinks back, "Don't know if I believe it, myself."

"It's one of the few differences from our own Reality's natural laws," I explain simply, "I won't claim to understand the metaphysics or what have you responsible, just that it's how it works here. Any craftsman NPC would tell you much the same thing."

He considers it, and laughs, "I'll take your word for it. 'Video Game Logic' is all you had to really say."

"Mhm," I shift my weight uncomfortably, my armour chafing, "I heard once that it has to do with the Ship of Theseus paradox."

"Oh?" Angelus leans in, arms resting on the table, keenly interested.

"According to their supposition, the ship's parts aren't what's important, but the 'concept' of the ship. So as an example, you have a stick, and a rock. Even if you were to tie them both together, they'd still be 'A rock tied to a stick'. But if a craftsman were to do the same, when possessed of a relevant schematic and the appropriate skill level, it would become 'A Hammer' instead, with it's own inherent attributes. They force a change in how the items are treated through magic or something like that, making the two separate items a unified 'concept' that is recognised by the, for lack of a better term, 'system'," I try my best to relate the discussion I overheard a few years back when I visited another Guild's Library, "You might still get some use out of the result if you don't meet the conditions, but it will always be strictly inferior in all aspects, potentially unstable or dangerous in some cases, and only useful for decoration at best."

The shield Henna's uncle made being one such example that springs to mind. While it's impressive that he was able to work that metal, it's still not worth any more than what metal can be salvaged from it. A smith's vanity.

"Interesting," Angelus nods along, eyes closed, "I can more or less see the reasoning. But what if you take the hammer and split it in two again?"

"You can't, you can only destroy the item in its entirety, which is also what happens to most things that completely bottom out on durability," I explain, "Once the item is made, there's no going back unless you utilise a Talent like Repurposing, which attempts to recycle the item into one of the materials that made it by destroying that item - within certain limitations, like random chance and some materials not being recoverable no matter what. From a certain point of view, crafters are like spellcasters, with Schematics serving as spells and Talents as Skills."

"I see," Angelus drums his fingers on the table, "That would certainly align with how we have to do things, but it's still odd that the NPCs don't."

"Take it up with Hectic Works," I yawn, "It's not our place to question their decisions, just to live with them."

For now.

"Boss," Windy elbows me in the side to get my attention, "Looks like we've got company."

Leaning to the side, I spot two likely candidates for the people who we're here to meet, Sober Morning's representatives. One Kon man with a pair of daggers on his hips, and a widely smiling Firm girl almost as short as Jade, with a Terrorstone Spear strapped to her back. Between the two, she has a slightly more dangerous air about her, likely as a result of the Corruption she's shouldering by using that weapon.

Noticing us, the girl beams an even wider smile that's vaguely offputting, says something to her companion, and bounds ahead of him before he can stop her, "Hi! I'm Jacie, you're Truthseekers, right? Heard a lot about you guys."

Her face and tone are friendly, but there's a familiar quality to the way she's looking us over which reminds me of Generous Morning, even if it doesn't feel insincere. I make a mental note not to confuse her bubbly energy with ditziness.

"Yes, that's right," I confirm, then motion for Angelus to switch sides so they can sit down, "I'm the Guild Leader, Silver Nosster."

"Vice Leader Windy Fields," Windy introduces herself.

"Raid Leader, Angelus Reach," Angelus follows suit, a little hesitant, but covering it well by pairing the introduction with him sitting down next to me.

"Cool, cool," Ms Jacie nods sagely, "This is-"

"Rent, an Officer of Sober Morning, pleased to meet you," the Kon interrupts her smoothly, to her irritation, "I'm here on the behalf of our leader, Jacie is here as an...advisor."

She rolls her eyes, disbelieving, "Uh-huh."

"While our leader couldn't make it today," Mr Rent continues, ignoring her, "She sends her greetings, and has given me an outline of what we're looking to amend the agreement to."

"That's fine," I take off my helmet, just for the sake of politeness, and place it on the table in front of me, "Before we begin, let me see if I recall the original offer correctly, and we can talk it through from there."

They both take their places across from the table, and nod their assent.

"Truthseekers will lead an alliance between ourselves, Wolf Hunt and Sober Morning on the expedition. The spoils of the first full clear will be the property of Truthseekers, while the other two parties will have the complete strategy needed to perform their own runs independently of us," I recall, "Is there any mistake?"

"No, that's what we heard as well," Mr Rent confirms, "Our problem is how one-sided it is in your favour. Mainly, in how you intend to compensate us for both the risk and giving you complete ownership over the rewards."

"Even if we lose most of the people we send along with you, we get nothing back? That doesn't seem fair, does it?" Ms Jacie adds on, pouting, "Rather, it seems like we're just being used?"

I won't really deny that. Out loud anyway.

"No," I deny, "I'm sure that by now you're well aware of the reliability of the information I've been giving out, as well as how rigid the progression for Meteo Town is starting out. Given that, having full, early access to the region's endgame dungeon is more than reward enough, no?"

"If you're right, and assuming it's really as valuable as you claim," she retorts simply.

"You have gained a reputation for finding hidden pieces," Mr Rent continues, "Which is why we are still very interested, but the compensation isn't enough on its own when we're shouldering a lot of the burden and not getting a sniff of the profits with your offer as things stand. Therefore, it is our opinion that we be paid for our expenses and losses regardless of the outcome, and a bonus on successful completion."

Which is all very reasonable-sounding, but dependent on the price they're looking to extract from us. I don't mind giving up a drop or two so long as we get the important ones and access to the Legacy of the Wolf Lord.

I turn my thoughts to our current savings before I respond, "What kind of pay are you expecting to receive?"

"1 Gold & 50 Silver per death, and 20 Gold on completion," Mr Rent lays out their demand, "We'll also be needing your help in equipping our forces in that armour you're wearing."

I suppress a wince, "That's far too much. We don't have the kind of money to spare, and while it is in our best interests to see your people equipped, we likewise can't shoulder the full cost of that. Even more so, considering we have already agreed to provide Wolf Hunt with equipment."

"That is what we want in exchange for our cooperation," Ms Jacie asserts, "Should the first conditions be met, we are willing to pay a portion of the material cost in exchange for what equipment you can provide, alright?"

"Does that include failures?" Angelus questions.

"No, only for completed sets," Mr Rent shakes his head resolutely, "Our offer is for 75%."

Inwardly, I feel a little annoyed by how much they're demanding from me. Even if they felt my offer was lacking, this is simply robbery at this point. Whether or not they're being serious their attitude is, frankly, a little insulting. I do my best not to let it leak out, and think it through properly.

"Putting aside the question of equipment for now, the fact remains we cannot afford such extravagant compensation," I insist firmly, "So, as a counter-proposal to start with, we will pay a maximum of 40 Stone Silver per death in the event that those deaths lead to a full clear in the end. If we all die, we'd be sharing in each others misery, and forcing us to pay would simply be kicking us while we're down. Additionally, we are willing to give up claim to certain drops if a clear is achieved, rather than a 20 Stone Gold bonus."

"If they aren't of interest to you, I feel like they weren't worth 20 Stone Gold, though?" Ms Jacie questions sweetly, "We'd still be getting shortchanged, in that case."

How stubborn. They appear to be rather fixed upon that amount, for some reason. But it's not like I don't understand it, creating and developing a Guild takes a lot of money, after all, and they've likely not been able to register themselves as an Official one yet. Which, just to start off with, requires a 50 Stone Gold down payment. From that, I can infer that their own savings probably amount to around 30 Stone Gold.

With that in mind, I decide to call their bluff, "If you're truly so desperate to raise the funds needed to elevate yourselves to Official Guild status within the empire, then I don't think you need to be so picky about where your money comes from, so long as you profit."

Mr Rent frowns, "Meaning, what exactly?"

"You're labouring under the assumption that we, in our position, must have a treasure trove of money and resources to spare," I fold my arms, "You're being too greedy. We are not as wealthy as you imagine."

Realistically, we could probably stand to just barely afford to pay their asking price, but they don't need to know that. I'm not going to sit here and willingly let them fleece me for all we're worth at market. I may not be the most experienced leader or negotiator, but I'm not a complete pushover, either. Our needs trump theirs. Every time.

"Let me take over, Rent," Ms Jacie shoves her compatriot further down the bench.

Protesting, Mr Rent rights his posture, "F-Hey!"

Negotiations begin in earnest from there, with all participants saying their piece.