I woke up early.
Too early even for someone who doesn’t like wasting time.
The sun was only just starting to rise, and I immediately understood one simple thing:
I won’t find Liara before evening.
If she said “I’ll sit,” then she’ll sit. Until she’s done. Completely.
So I went alone.
To the guild.
The building was large.
Unexpectedly large.
High ceilings, massive beams, the smell of iron, paper, and sweat.
Packed with people.
Warriors.
Adventurers.
Mages.
People for whom this was their main source of income.
Funny, I thought.
Why do guilds even exist in cities where there are royal authorities, guards, courts?
When formally everything should already function.
The answer was obvious.
Because there’s always dirty work.
The kind the crown doesn’t like paying for.
I walked up to the request board.
And froze.
No monster hunts.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
No “clear out the den,” no “kill the beast,” no “cave to the north.”
Instead:
— Wanted.
Sketches. Faces. Names.
Prisoners. Fugitives. Suspects.
And a couple of tasks:
— “Water the farmer’s fields”
— “Need hands. Urgent.”
I blinked slowly.
“…Seriously?”
Where are the exterminations? Where are the ancient horrors? Where’s at least one badly-mannered cult?
Nothing.
And then it hit me.
If there are no monsters here…
then either they don’t exist anymore…
or someone else deals with them entirely.
I stepped back.
“So where am I supposed to find legendary warriors?” I muttered.
In books — they’re either dead,
or so old they’ve become legends themselves.
Hm…
I narrowed my eyes.
Epic fighters don’t sit around idle.
And they don’t run errands for copper coins.
If the world has become more… organized,
then the truly strong are:
— either with the king
— or with the Academy
— or inside structures that don’t advertise themselves at all
And, most annoyingly…
They receive a stable salary.
“Damn,” I sighed.
“How am I supposed to find you if you’re officially employed?”
I looked at the board again.
No.
I won’t find them through the guild.
But…
I smiled slightly.
“But you,” I thought, “definitely know who knows.”
The guild isn’t about heroes.
It’s about rumors.
I turned and went to find the registration desk.
I need to ask the right question.
Preferably not too directly.
Chapter: “The Conversation That Didn’t Happen”
I approached the registration desk.
Behind it sat a middle-aged man with the kind of face that looked tired before the workday even started. A pen in his hand. A stack of papers. His gaze — empty.
“Good morning,” I said.
Silence.
“Yeah…” I drawled. “Rough times for the guild, I see.”
Zero reaction.
I glanced around the hall.
Once, probably, the greatest warriors of the light gathered here.
Those who challenged the darkness.
Those people later wrote books about.
And now — wanted posters and requests to water fields.
I looked back at the registrar.
“There were probably times,” I said thoughtfully, “when the fate of the world was decided here.”
Still nothing.
I tilted my head.
“…Are you even alive?”
Silence.
“What the hell kind of sigma is this…” I muttered.
I sighed, turned around, and headed for the exit.
Fine.
I’ll find them myself.
After all, if epic warriors exist,
they have to be somewhere.
And definitely not behind a desk with forms.
I stepped outside and stopped.
“So…” I said to myself. “Think.”
Epic fighters don’t sit around.
They train.
Constantly.
Which means…
“Corps,” I nodded.
“Gym.
Training grounds.
Sparring fields.”
There has to be a military corps in this city.
And if you can’t just walk in…
I smirked.
“…then you break in.”
I pulled my hood up and headed toward the district where they usually build something big, strict, and labeled “No Unauthorized Entry.”
Well then, I thought.
Let’s see how they train heroes these days.
