After Miss Dawn Waker leaves, Mr Fathom is first to break the silence that follows her absence, "Have to say, it took a lot of self-control not to choke or speak up when you turned down more than half a mill in cash."

"I appreciate that you did, but I wouldn't have objected if you had," I yawn, the fatigue too great to be sated by just one, "Otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed to your terms and subsequently asked you to stay in attendance."

"It is a ludicrous amount of money," he justifies himself unnecessarily, "Only reason I didn't say anything was how obviously futile it'd be to try and convince you to take the deal. Still feel like shaking you, if I'm honest, because...well what exactly do you stand to lose right now?"

"Autonomy for a start," I respond, rubbing my temple, "As I explained already, I'm not giving up 30% of Truthseekers to someone I just met. To me, that's more insane than turning down a $600k bribe that came straight outta nowhere. Or can you figure out what exactly she wants out of us that justifies spending so much money just as an incentive?"

He glances away, pensive, "No, now that you mention it. Still should have taken the money, if you ask me. Or at least tried to haggle her down instead of just telling her no outright."

"Ordinarily, you might be right," I sit up as Angelus, Morn and Windy enter, "But Truthseekers wasn't created purely to be a business. Hey, expected you a little sooner."

"Work on the Training Hall has finished for today," Morn reports unprompted, "According to the Architects, it will be operable by the end of tomorrow. We just need to await the arrival of the Enchanter NPC to complete it."

"Alright," I acknowledge the information with a lackadaisical thumbs up.

"What were you talking about?" Windy asks curiously, taking the same seat Miss Dawn Waker was using for herself and placing her helmet on the table in front.

After staring at me, Mr Fathom answers in my stead, "Dawn Waker wanted to invest $600,000 into Truthseekers in exchange for 30% of it's shares. Silver shut her down instantly, and I was just questioning that."

Windy coughs, "E-e-Wha-...How fucking much?!"

Angelus doesn't take the revelation any more gracefully, and even Morn stares bug-eyed at me. None of them shows any sign of comprehending my decision, for which I can hardly fault them on. But any in-depth condemnation of my decision will have to wait, as our next guest has been this past half-hour or so.

"I'm sure you have a lot to say--"

"No fucking kidding, man!" Windy cries out, standing up abruptly, her chair squeaking across the floorboards.

"-but it will have to wait until later," I finish, motioning for her to sit back down, "There is still a pair of guests waiting to speak to me, so, what can you tell me about them?"

"Oh, no, we are not skipping over that!" Windy slams her palm on the table, "Are you fucking insane, Alex?!"

I clear my throat pointedly, "Name."

"I know what I said, man," Windy scowls, "This goes way above that. Like, way, way, way above that. I mean, you're the boss and all, but- but half a million and you just turn your nose up? No input or anything from the rest of us?"

"...Regardless of motive, that is a rather large digression," Angelus adds on seriously, "I can more or less understand why you'd say no, given what I've come to learn about you. However..."

"Something like that is too much for you to decide on your own," Windy concludes on her own, "Like, shit man."

Conflicting emotions churn inside, "Alright, enough. You're upset you weren't consulted, I get it. But, as I already asked Mr Fathom here: What, exactly, is the sense of offering so much money 'no strings attached? What exactly are the profit margins from such an investment? Bear in mind, I'm not asking from our perspective, but theirs."

Windy heavily drops back into her seat, dragging it back forwards, "Okay, I can accept that it's really god damn weird. But, so what? You're just going to reject them outright, without any negotiation, investigation or input from the rest of us?"

"Decisions made in haste are often poorly considered by definition," Morn intones, "Though I respect that it is your prerogative as the employer and sole owner, I have to question this as well."

"We can revisit this conversation later," I put my foot down, "Who are our remaining guests, and what do they want from us?"

"Don't change the subject on us," Windy scowls, arms folded.

"Consider it another point with which to condemn me after," I reply with dry sarcasm, getting more than a little fed up with the attitude, justified or not, "Either way, we're wasting their time right now."

Windy's eyes narrow, "Fine. But if she comes in here and, I dunno, offers us all a Stellar Flight S6, and you turn it down..?"

I don't even have a licence for a regular car, never mind one of those super experimental hovering vanity models. And something tells me she doesn't either, but that's neither here nor there. Windy is no doubt feeling the looming judgment of her Uncle keenly, so her behaviour isn't hard to understand.

"If the price is fair. Reasonable. And acceptable...Naturally, you won't need to convince me," I sigh, finding it increasingly tough to maintain focus, "But I won't apologise for rejecting Miss Dawn Waker's offer. Now, enough of this tangent already, and back to the matter at hand."

"Klare Creed, one of the leaders of the independents during the riot," Morn provides, a slight edge to her tone of voice, "According to the agreement, she - and many like her - will be afforded a temporary discount on the use of the Training Hall and Employment Bureau's services for the next two months of in-game time. I suspect that her inquiries will be related."

"Anything else?"

"Little of note," Morn shakes her head, "Despite - or perhaps because of - her blunt personality and foul-mouth, even in the face of her employers, she's gained a degree of popularity amongst the local mercenaries, which is what led to her becoming one of the two major representatives of that demographic of players in Meteo. Miss Creed is also quite vocal about her distaste for Miss Dawn Waker and they argue whenever they cross paths."

"Something about Dawn Waker stealing something?" Angelus shrugs, uncertain, "I'll be honest, I barely paid any attention to what they were saying. Or shouting, in Klare's case. Either way, they're like oil and water near as I can tell. Don't know the big guy, but I figure they're friends."

"If that's all there is," I straighten my back out, "Can somebody let them know to come in?"

---

 

I don't know the Kon woman, Klare. Though, the name rings something of a far-off bell in the recesses of mind, imparting a feeling like I've heard it before somewhere. The Urso man that follows closely behind her like a bodyguard, on the other hand, is someone I've met before though don't think I never got their name.

Or, more likely, I just forgot it. He was one of the people who braved the downpour to avail themselves of my appraisal services at Stone Arsenal before I left the town. Other than that, nothing springs to mind. They are, near as I can tell, unimportant nobodies, at least in the original timeline. For the present, at least, their destinies are liable to change if they haven't already. They are, at least, capable of bargaining at the same table as the cream of Meteo, which has to count for something doesn't it?

"Please take a seat," I instruct them, and they comply quickly, "My name is Silver Nosster, what brings you here today?"

If I were to draw one main point of contrast between her and Miss Dawn Waker, then Miss Creed's composure isn't nearly as practised and betrays her anxiety easily. When she sits, it's the restlessness and hazy eye contact which demonstrates how uncomfortable she is in my presence, but that fiery defiance innate to her I saw before consumes it quickly as she psyches herself up to respond, "Klare Creed, pleasure t' finally meet you, Mr Silver.  My friend here's Medde, Medde Olk, 'n' he's my number two I guess you could call him?"

The Urso smiles thinly, waving half-heartedly as he skooches his chair closer to the table, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"We're not here to bother you too much," Miss Creed assures us, transitioning smoothly, "Actually, it's something pretty good for you! See, me and a bunch of mercs knocked our heads together during the fight with Darkest Dumbasses near the end and figured that, well, we worked pretty alright with each other, yeah? So, now that that whole mess is over'n done with, we've decided to start a freelancer agency called Voyagers. Not like a proper Guild or anything, something a little more like a uhh..."

"An employment agency,"  Mr Olk chimes in.

"Yeah," she smiles, "We aren't really all that interested in being some big company or whatever, dealing with paperwork all day. But from what we've seen, there ain't really all that many people in Meteo worth their salt in a scrap. 'course, nothing against all you, you're probably as good or better, but there's not exactly a whole lot of you? Most guild folk can't say they're doing much better with their rosters if we're talking, like, pure quality alone - which is where we come in. We don't want to give up our freedoms permanently, but at the same time, you're the ones with the money and connections. So, if you've got a job needs doing but no bodies, consider this an open offer from us to Truthseekers and all the other guilds."

I suppress a wry chuckle. A development like this certainly isn't bad, but it is a little premature, given the upcoming changes which allow mercenaries to operate independently on the same level as a guild operative. 'Unions' like this, as they come to be known, don't really gain traction until some time after the overhaul of the Infamous system and the creation of the Bounty Hunter Agency by the continental powers to keep the less scrupulous players from getting out of hand without giving too much political currency to Panopla's Pioneers.

Certified Bounty Hunters are able to act on their missions without needing to consider national borders and a great of otherwise obstructive legislation on Firmament, not too unlike Interpol, but that concession is something none of those nations would ever be able to stomach giving to Panopla. For better or worse.

Guilds don't have that flexibility, as they are reliant on the nation they start in, only able to open more branches abroad after ever-harder to achieve Star Rating promotions. Which is why choosing the Empire of Stone was such a massive deal. The landmass it lords over, as well as the resources and prestige at it's disposal grant - ironically given their controlling nature - Truthseekers and any other Official Guild from here the greatest amount of freedom and opportunity on Firmament by far. Panopla operates a little differently since the Pioneers' Association practically is the Panoplan government if not in name, but that's neither here nor there.

Unions arise as a natural consequence of the continent of Firmament being so vast, allowing for individuals to call on allies within the same sphere of operations without needing anything formal to tie them down in exchange for cash, goods or other services. Inevitably, many of the larger more influential organisations have little choice but to become proper guilds in their own right, though. Free as they may be when small-scale, they become cumbersome to operate and heavily suppressed by the national powers when they grow too large for their own good.

Astral Knights straddled the line between Union and Guild since our holdings weren't that impressive and we largely worked for other interests to keep the lights on (even then we didn't tend to move around much unless it was for a big job) it was simply far more convenient to maintain our Official Guild status within Fiedro.

So, to see the birth of perhaps the first 'Union' is a funny thing. Without the Bounty Hunters Agency, they've little choice but to feed on the table scraps of established Official Guilds within their nations. Whenever a suitably scaled job would be available, Truthseekers would be prioritised by the Empire. Or the Pioneers. Even Rambling Rose, now that they've reached Official status.

"So you say," I clear my throat and mind, "While my fellows here would likely vouch for you, the fact that you came to us first is not hard to understand. It is no secret that Truthseekers used to lack membership, after all, so we probably looked like the one guild most in need of your services."

Miss Creed's offer is not generosity, to my presently cynical state of mind, but opportunistic. Accepting it as the former would mean higher prices and concessions we might normally avoid out of desperation for warm bodies. Simple as schemes go, and crude besides. Of course, she doesn't back down after I point that out.

"Used to?" she glances suspiciously at Mr Fathom, "Guess Wolf Hunt had the same idea, huh? What did they offer? We can match it."

"We joined Truthseekers," Mr Fathom states simply by way of explanation, "Not wholly, but as good as for the duration of the contract. Are you sure you can match that commitment? I can't imagine your friends would be all too happy about you signing them up for a guild on their behalf, to hear you talk."

Miss Creed makes a strangled sort of gurgling noise from the surprise, leaving a calm Mr Olk to answer in her place, "Though we won't consent to being tied down like that, we can at the very least demonstrate that level of commitment for whatever job we are hired to do. Of course, that doesn't mean we will accept any job for the sake of it, though. It will be down to each member to agree. Me and Klare are just a point of contact for the network of interests behind us."

Well-spoken, this one. Not nearly as forced as Miss Dawn Waker.

Miss Creed rallies behind her adjutant, "What he said. We're not a black ops kinda group or anything, so sure, we'll guard your stuff and fight in dungeons with ya, but we won't be doin' any thievin' or murdering, yeah? Might be as one or two'll be tempted to weather some Infamy gain for a quick buck, but if they do they're as good as blacklisted when it comes out. Rules aren't really set down in stone yet since it's early days - plus most of us have lives outside this piece'a shit game - but that's one thing we all agreed on: We don't wanna end up like DDA."

"A reasonable conclusion," Mr Fathom comments.

"Yeah," Windy concurs, "So, when you say network, how many people are we talking about here?"

"And what sort of payment are you looking for?" Morn adds swiftly.

"Depends on the job," Miss Creed shrugs, "And the people signing on. Voyagers itself isn't really taking a big cut since it ain't like we're doing much but acting as middlemen, but we'll be taking fees from you or them depending on who wants to connect to who. So, say you need like, five healers? We'll find them, make them an offer and take care of the initial negotiations, then you pay us. Or if one of ours wants to tag along on a dungeon attack you've got cooking, we'll do the same for them."

"To add to that, I'd say there'd probably be a discount if the job itself can be considered a sort of payment," Mr Olk furthers the point, "You know, like if they have a related Quest in the area but need the escort, or for level grinding parties. Nobody wants to waste time, after all."

"Yeah," his boss nods vigorously, "Especially that last one, at the moment. Most of us are barely clinging to Level 10, and getting out of Meteo with how bunged up the gatehouse is means we're sat around twiddling our thumbs until it eases off. Which point, most are probably gonna make hunting parties for Ujax and beeline it outta here. Gonna be real competitive without parties established to share the credit with, so, best to concede some upfront cash to avoid any fights."

"Plus you still get paid anyway," Angelus smirks.

"Hey, no free lunches," Miss Creed grins right back, "With how broke-ass-backwards exp farming is, the bigger the party the more efficient it is, pretty much. Don't know anything about respawn timers or anything, but faster kills means faster levels, and we all benefit the same anyway."

"Ujax is going to look like a warzone," Mr Fathom laments.

"No joke," Windy agrees, drumming her fingers on the table, "What d'ya think, boss?"

The sarcasm is hard to miss, "Thanks to Mr Fathom and company, I can't say we need Voyagers anymore. However, I don't see any reason to turn you away. On the contrary, I'd be happy to use you so long as your claims can match reality. If it's something like forming a, for lack of a more eloquent turn of phrase, 'murderball', I don't think it's necessary to be too picky, but when it comes to more demanding jobs, I will be insisting on our prospective hires proving their worth in our 1-Star Training Hall downstairs once the repairs have been completed."

"Sounds fair, 'spose," Miss Creed glances to the side as the stipulation moves in one ear and out the other with no resistance, "We've got, like two hundred people that need boosting back to where they were, so I don't think we'll be needing to clog yer basement too badly with WLR hopefuls just yet, but that's something a lot of people were asking about, since you cleared it on Normal first try and all."

"Myself included," Mr Olk smiles self-deprecatingly, "I've only been in once on Easy, and we were annihilated."

I share a glance with Angelus and Mr Fathom, "Wolf Lords' Remains clears are something that can be arranged. It is, after all, perhaps the most consistent source of Level 15 gear available to us, and the Pioneers' Alliance are partenered with us in it's management rights."

And there's a crafting design that I want from the Pack Alpha which didn't drop when we went before which is very important to our business interests. The drop rate is low, as to be expected, so many runs are needed to hit that value.

"Management rights?" Miss Creed tilts her head in askance.

"Farmer's Secret, Miner's Nightmare, Failed Mage's Regret and Wolf Lords' Remains are all under the legal jurisdiction of the Pioneers," I explain, "And as the partnered Official Guild who discovered then subsequently reported them, Truthseekers is entitled to a cut of any profits generated by the Alliance from them, as well as free passage in and out. Do you not recall the incident at Liggit Mine?"

"The video of that one blowhard NPC getting torn apart?" Mr Fathom questions.

"Yeah," Windy stretches her back, "Happened not long after I told the manager about the dungeons. And oh boy, she was not happy when she found out, I can tell you that much. Ranted for a full ten minutes when I stopped by last week about how much she wanted to leave the building and find the people responsible to...uhhh...do things to. She wasn't specific, but you get the idea."

"On that tangent," Morn considers, "It would likely be a good idea for you to visit the Zomn, sir."

"Mm," I concede the point, "Add it to the never-diminishing to-do list. Back to the original subject, I believe we've covered just about everything we can for the moment, unless there's something else somebody wants to bring up?"

"A transfer of the facility discount agreement to you, Silver?" Angelus suggests.

"Ah, yeah," I nod, "Do you want to recompile the contracts that Windy signed as my stand-in?"

"Nah," Miss Creed shakes her head, "Least, I don't care. Medde?"

"It doesn't make a difference to me either," the Urso shrugs, "I'll ask around though, let everyone know they can if they feel it's necessary, but I don't think they will."

"Then that's that," I clasp my hands together.

"That's that," Miss Creed echoes, "Do you have a contact you can share? I don't think the forums really work all that great for it."

"Sure," I stand slowly, "I'll contact you when everything's settled down some. Keep your schedules open."

"Depends on if one of the other guilds has a job," Mr Olk mimics me, rubbing his neck, "Nice to meet you all."

"Yup," Miss Creed joins him by the door and Angelus gets up to escort them out with no need for any prompting, "Take care, looking forward to working with you!"

"With that," I rub my tired eyes, "I'm going to log off. It's been a hell of a day, and I'm seriously pushing against the limits of my endurance and booking time."

"Hey, we still need to-" Windy interjects, but I hold up my palm to silence her.

"I know, I'm not running away from it," I roll my head around as I walk around the table to the door, "We can talk offline. Mr Fathom-"

"Jericho, please."

"...Jericho, I'll send you an invite to the guild's group chat as well. And I should probably make a second chatroom or something for everyone, not just the original members."

Tomorrow's going to be a busy day, and the last one before Rise of the Adventurers makes me a prophet or a delusional fraud.