Monday had arrived at Marrowind.
It was night—of course it was. The city didn't wake with the sun; it bloomed with the moon. Above him, pale light poured across the cliffside like it had been poured from a cup. The Moonveil Guild stood right below the moon itself.
The guards at the gate didn't stop him. They watched him, said nothing, and let the gates part.
Inside, the Moonveil Guild was alive.
Soft footsteps, hushed laughter, the occasional shimmer of fabric. Moonveil didn't operate like a traditional guild. Their halls were lit with slow-burning oil lamps, casting long shadows along the polished stone walls. This place wasn't loud. It whispered.
Monday approached the reception, showing the badge Wanora had made with Heide's help. It was a clipboard-shaped emblem—clean, minimal, official.
"I'm here to represent Taskhand," Monday said, voice calm but firm. "And would like a meeting with the guild leader."
The receptionist, a woman dressed in pale robes with silver pins holding her hair, blinked once. She stared a second too long.
"Your name, sir?"
"Monday."
She looked through a list—briefly, efficiently. "There isn't a prior meeting arranged by Taskhand or the individual Monday."
Monday didn't blink. "It's important. Tell your guild leader it's urgent. Taskhand is willing to pay high for a meeting now."
A hushed conversation passed between her and two others nearby. Finally, the receptionist smiled politely.
"Just a second, sir. I'll contact the Guildmaster."
A few minutes passed. Then she returned.
"This way."
Monday was led through a curved hallway, the walls shaped like flowing waves. Eventually, they reached a wide set of doors. They opened, and he stepped in.
The Guildmaster was already standing.
She smiled. Not the rehearsed kind. The natural one.
"Oh," she said. "I didn't expect a beautiful person to come."
Monday had changed. His usual bangs were brushed aside, his dark spots evened out by makeup. Tonight, he looked like he looked like the male lead of the visual novel Ethereal love.
He took a seat with practiced ease.
"Hello," he said. "I'm Monday from Taskhand. I'm a core member. Taskhand is proposing an alliance."
The Guildmaster sat back down. "You have my attention."
"We're backed by the Empire now," Monday began, tone light but direct. "Which means we have access to state-funded supplies, guards for protection, and direct military assistance when required."
"And what would Taskhand want from Moonveil?" she asked, fingers laced loosely in front of her. "We're not a war guild. Our strengths are intelligence networks, rumor control, and regional influence."
"Exactly why I'm here." Monday leaned in slightly. "We need reach. You have ears across Menyurl. We're aware of that. The Guildmaster of Moonveil is known for controlling the flow of information even before it spreads."
The Guildmaster didn't deny it.
"You want us to endorse Taskhand?"
"We want you to align with us," Monday replied. "If others see Moonveil working with us, they'll hesitate to oppose us. You handle public perception. We'll handle the physical resources."
"Ten percent of all joint mission revenue," she said without blinking.
"Three percent," Monday said immediately.
"Seven."
"Five," Monday countered. "Backed by the Empire, remember? We're not some new guild trying to prove ourselves. You align with us, your reputation climbs even higher."
She paused.
Then nodded.
"Deal. Five percent. But on one condition."
"Go on."
"I want a direct channel to your Imperial contact. Not for interference—just updates. If I'm to commit Moonveil's reputation, I expect transparency."
"Reasonable,"
Selicia leaned back in her seat, the moonlight catching faintly in her white-blonde hair. Her voice was lazy, velvet-smooth.
"Say again—what's the rush, though? Why's Taskhand suddenly looking for partnerships?"
Monday exhaled through his nose, resting one arm over the chair. "Taskhand's grown too fast. That makes us a target."
He didn't raise his voice, didn't try to dramatise the truth. Just laid it out.
"We've got the Empire behind us, yes. That stops the big guilds from trying anything overt. But smaller ones?" He glanced at her. "Some of them don't care about consequences. They'll sabotage us just to stay relevant. Petty, yes. Dangerous? Even more so."
Selicia's fingers tapped gently on the crystal glass in front of her. "So, you want allies before enemies sharpen their knives."
"Exactly," Monday said. Then added, more quietly, "And besides... I don't think you know. There's going to be a war soon."
Her hand stilled.
She looked up, expression unreadable. "What makes you say that?"
"Tensions are at an all-time high," Monday said, voice calm but clipped. "The border towns are seeing unusual troop movement. The Tempest are moving—they don't shift unless something's about to give, knowing they are pirates.
Selicia's fingers stopped drumming the table.
"You're saying a war is coming," she said.
Monday nodded once. "Sooner than anyone expects. The signs are there—you just need to look."
For a moment, Selicia didn't speak. Her smile was gone. The room felt colder, though the fire still burned in the hearth beside them. Then she leaned forward, folding her arms on the desk.
"Then forget it."
Monday blinked. "What?"
She sat straighter. "I don't need to tie Moonveil to Taskhand. We're better off. Guilds don't survive by standing too close to wildfire, we need to choose a side you see."
There was a pause. Monday's mind raced.
He didn't have authority to force her. No promises of money or safety meant anything to a guild like Moonveil if they felt exposed. Empire support was a strong card—but if she wasn't afraid of war, it meant she was looking forward to a war, certainly she was the emperor is considered unjust.
"No alliance," Selicia said, finality in her voice. "Thanks for the visit, Monday."
He opened his mouth, about to argue, to reason—to negotiate—but she raised a hand to cut him off.
Then she smirked.
"Well... unless."
He waited.
She stood again, walking with that same calm, calculated ease toward him.
"If you're that confident about Taskhand," she said slowly, "prove it. Stay here tonight. With me. Let's see how much you're willing to share... for an alliance."
Monday's jaw tightened, but his tone stayed even.
"Selicia."
She met his gaze, playful and unbothered.
Monday smiled slightly—not out of nervousness, but as if he'd found the right angle in a broken mirror.
"I don't sleep with potential partners until I know their guild policies," he said lightly. "Besides, I'd hate to be the reason you regret the alliance tomorrow morning, since you aren't the only guild we are forming a alliance with, we have a lot more and your plans of overthrowing monarchy would fail if all our partners lined up against you"
She chuckled, one brow arching. "A rejection?"
"Its the truth, I understand we don't share common goals but for the time being let's work together simce—," Monday said, tilting his head. "—I came here to negotiate, not to flirt. But if Moonveil truly wants a future past this war, you'll see we're your best shot at surviving it."
Another beat passed. Then Selicia gave a soft, knowing sigh.
"You're clever. I hate that I like it."
She turned back to her desk.
"Fine. I'll consider the alliance. Come back later with papers. And wear something less smug."
"I'll bring both," Monday said, already heading toward the door.
"Don't forget—still no promises."
"I never count on promises," he said over his shoulder, "only decisions."
And with that, the door shut behind him.