The road flattened as the caravan rolled toward the gates of Celdoras. The city rose ahead in stone rings, layered into the hillside like a fortress that forgot how to stop growing. Walls reinforced with old magic framed archways where enchanted braziers flickered even in daylight. Tramlines curved overhead—built into carved tracks, not floating—and carts rattled along them in a controlled slide.

  Pixie sniffed the air. “Do you smell cinnamon? I think the air smells expensive.”

  “Don’t get distracted,” Moose said. “City scent doesn’t mean city safety.”

  Buster grunted. “Looks expensive.”

  As the caravan split into lanes, Durgan called back, “Merchants to the left. Adventurers to the right. I’ll deal with the traders. You handle your lot.”

  Ethan nodded and guided the Pack into the adventurer queue. They drew a few looks—nothing new. He had the paperwork ready. Moose paced steady. Pixie bounced. Amelia stayed close to his side, her scarf tucked against the wind. Lyra lingered near the back, alert but unreadable. Her ears didn’t twitch, but she was watching everything.

  The line moved slowly. Guards checked scrolls and badges with glow-tipped rods, occasionally muttering between themselves. When their turn came, a pair of guards stepped forward. Their armor was worn around the edges but clean enough to look official.

  “Papers,” the taller one said.

  Ethan handed over his Guild token and scroll. “Ethan Cross. Tamer. Guild Rank F. Three registered companions.”

  The guard glanced through the scroll, then looked up and counted. “Three, huh.” He looked again. “I see four.”

  “Haven’t gotten around to registering her yet,” Ethan said.

  The guard smirked. “Then she stays outside. No papers, no entry. That’s the law.”

  “I need to get to the Guild to register her,” Ethan pointed out.

  “Not my problem.” The guard shrugged. “Leave her here, go get papers, come back. Should only take you... what, three hours? Maybe four?”

  The second guard stepped closer. “Course, there’s always the expedited entry fee. Five silver bits, and she walks through with you right now.”

  “Five silver?” Ethan said flatly.

  “That’s the going rate,” the first guard said. “Unless you want your little wolf sitting out here all afternoon.” He smiled, all teeth. “Your choice.”

  His gaze drifted past Ethan to Lyra. “And this one?” He gave a slow nod toward her ears. “She yours, or walking in for the brothels?”

  The bond snapped taut. Ethan didn’t move. “Choose your next words very carefully,” he said, voice low.

  Pixie growled instantly. Buster stepped forward, shoulders squared.

  The guard’s hand twitched near his sword. “That a threat?”

  “Advice,” Ethan said. “Keep pushing and find out what happens.”

  Moose stepped between them without a word—solid, present, immovable.

  The second guard cleared his throat. “Escort fee’s two silver bits. Makes your total seven. You pay, they pass. Otherwise, we sort it out the hard way.”

  Ethan reached for his pouch and, through clenched teeth, said, “Fine.”

  The first guard held out his hand. “Seven silver bits. No logs. No questions.”

  Durgan stepped in beside Ethan, his tone dry. “Same game they played on me, lad. Claimed my axle permits were out of date. Charged me triple, the sly devils.”

  He handed Ethan two silver. “Let’s not waste daylight, eh?”

  Ethan added five more and dropped the full bribe into the guard’s open palm.

  “Whole place runs on bribes,” Durgan muttered. “They’d charge ye to breathe if they could write it on parchment. By stone, city’s never changed.”

  The first guard stamped Ethan’s scroll and waved them forward. “Welcome to Celdoras. Try not to misplace your beasts next time.”

  They passed under the stone arch as the city swallowed them. The runes flared faintly overhead. The air inside was cleaner. Cooler. But it didn’t feel lighter.

  Durgan pointed to a turnoff in the road ahead. “Marketline. North end. Look for the blacksmith’s seal, lad. If ye need tools or someone who won’t cheat ye worse than the guards, that’s where ye’ll find ’em.”

  Ethan nodded and shook his hand. No thanks were needed.

  The Pack stayed close as they walked forward. Pixie was still bristling. Buster stalked ahead like he was waiting for permission to throw someone. Amelia didn’t speak. Lyra didn’t look back—but Ethan didn’t miss the way her eyes stayed on the gate until it disappeared from view.

  He adjusted his pack strap as they stepped through an arch into the city proper with the Pack at his sides, and the carved runes overhead flared faintly—just enough to register. One pulse of golden light. Then gone.

  Inside, the air changed. Not fresher—just managed. Like the heat and dust had been filtered out on purpose, but the weight of the city stayed.

  Stone buildings rose around them, tight and uneven, built layer by layer with no real symmetry. Some leaned inward like they were trying to meet. Others had support beams wedged under their corners at strange angles. Nothing matched. But it all held.

  The street ahead was paved in old cobbles, worn smooth at the center. Between the stones, Ethan noticed thin copper lines set into the gaps—tarnished, rune-inscribed, and pulsing gently underfoot. They weren’t decorative. They were part of the city’s system.

  A tram rumbled overhead, following stone-carved rails bolted into arches that crossed the street above. The car was squat, metal-framed, and clearly heavy—yellow mana stones buzzed faintly underneath, keeping it aligned but not airborne. It creaked as it passed, groaning through the turn like something alive and annoyed.

  “Everything’s still built by hand,” Ethan said under his breath. “They just use magic where we’d use electricity.”

  Pixie trotted ahead, nose twitching like a sensor array. “This place smells like warm bread and cold rocks and—I think I just smelled seven different kinds of wax!”

  “Don’t lick anything,” Moose said, pacing alongside her. “Watch the alleys.”

  Buster didn’t speak, but his ears stayed low. He kept glancing behind them like he wasn’t convinced the guards were done.

  Shopfronts lined the street—some rough, some carefully carved. Painted signs swung overhead in the breeze, marked with guild crests, trade symbols, or stylized lettering. Ethan could read them, even if he shouldn’t have been able to.

  Tailor. Scribe. Apothecary. Charms.

  A few had glass windows—not many. Behind one, cold meats were displayed on a shelf chilled by glowing blue stones sunk into the frame. Next door, a baker pulled trays from a stone oven lit with flickering red hearth runes. The scent drifted out and wrapped around the street.

  “Is that... fresh?” Pixie asked, nose twitching. “Real fresh? Like right-now fresh?”

  “It’s bread,” Buster said, sniffing harder. “We’re getting some later.”

  “We’re not stopping yet,” Ethan said.

  Lyra pointed up a side street. “Guild Square’s northeast. We can avoid the merchant tier if we cut through here.”

  The road narrowed. The buildings tightened. Ethan glanced up and saw walkways strung between upper floors—some wood, some rope, some stone slabs that looked like they’d been wedged into place and never moved again. Drain channels had been cut into the edges to steer runoff from roof to gutter.

  More copper conduits traced the walls at shoulder height, looping into doorframes and shop signs. Wall lanterns flickered as they passed—amber light responding to their movement.

  People walked with purpose. Most wore layered coats or belts with visible charms: a warded ring, a stitched talisman, a mana tag hanging from a clasp. Not for flash. For function. Protection, temperature control, weight relief.

  A courier darted past them, tail tucked low and eyes down. Beastkin. Young. He didn’t look back.

  Ethan clocked everything as they moved—how people avoided eye contact, how guards clustered at intersections, how magic was built into the bones of the place but nothing about it felt elegant.

  “This place wasn’t designed,” he said. “It just... kept growing.”

  Moose let out a low huff. “And nobody stopped it.”

  One of the tram cars passed again nearby, this one carrying crates marked with Guild seals. It shook as it slowed, one wheel sparking against the rail before the whole thing groaned to a halt at a platform above.

  They were getting closer. He could feel it. The smell of ink and iron hit next—stronger than food, cutting through the air like a signature.

  Then the Guild tower came into view. Three stories, squat and wide, anchored into the curve of the northern wall. Brass signage arched over the entry. Two statues flanked the steps—their faces worn smooth, their names unreadable.

  People came and went in a steady stream—adventurers in mixed armor, courier runners, a few tired-looking staff in blue-gray uniforms.

  The Pack slowed as they approached the steps. Ethan stopped just long enough to take it in. “Alright,” he said, eyes on the doors. “Let’s see what Celdoras calls a Guild Hall. It’s only the biggest building we’ve walked into since landing in this world.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The heavy oak doors groaned as they swung inward, revealing a vast common room that smelled of leather, sweat, and parchment. Tables scattered across worn floorboards bore the scars of tankards and blade-sharpening. A cold hearth dominated one wall, its stones blackened from winter fires.

  The hall buzzed with activity—adventurers maintaining gear, clerks rushing between rooms, the steady murmur of business being conducted. A faint shimmer ran along the floor like a ward line, marking the boundary between outside and Guild territory.

  They’d barely taken three steps inside when a shoulder slammed into Ethan.

  “Watch where you’re going, rookie.” The man reeked of cheap ale despite the early hour. His bloodshot eyes found Ethan’s F-rank badge pinned to his chest, and his sneer widened. “Lost, are we?”

  His gaze swept over the Pack—Moose steady, Buster tensed, Pixie bristling, Amelia quiet at Ethan’s side. “What’s this then? F-rank with four beasts? Compensating for something? Looks more like a walking zoo to me.”

  Moose shifted his weight slightly—not threatening, just positioning himself between the drunk and Amelia.

  “Just here for registration,” Ethan said evenly.

  The drunk barked a laugh. “Registration? Good luck getting past the desk with that—”

  “Brick.” The voice that cut through the tension was warm, smooth, and carried authority like sunlight carries heat. “Why don’t you go sleep it off before you embarrass yourself further?”

  The newcomer looked like someone had pulled Gaston straight from a storybook and given him a Guild uniform—square jaw, perfect teeth, shoulders that barely fit through doorways. Somehow the regulation clothing emphasized every muscle.

  Brick deflated instantly. “Just having some fun, Aldric.”

  “Have it somewhere else.” Aldric’s tone stayed pleasant, but Brick shuffled away without another word.

  Aldric turned to them with a smile that had probably charmed its way out of countless situations. “Don’t mind Brick. He’s harmless when he’s sober—which is rarely.” He extended a hand that could probably palm a melon. “Aldric Bronzehart. Senior Adventurer Liaison.”

  Ethan shook it, trying not to wince at the grip. “Ethan Cross. Just need to handle some registration.”

  “Ah! Then you want Mabel.” Aldric gestured toward a counter along the far wall. “Best receptionist in all the Guild branches. Just… brace yourself.”

  With that cryptic warning, he strode away, pausing only to flex unnecessarily while adjusting a wall sconce.

  Pixie tilted her head, watching him leave. “He got all hard and lumpy for no reason,” she whispered through the bond. “I respect it.”

  Ethan sighed. “That’s called flexing.”

  Pixie blinked. “Oh.” She paused, then added brightly, “Still weird. But impressive.”

  Ethan couldn’t quite argue. It was weird—and, he admitted, slightly impressive.

  The registration desk was an organized fortress of chaos—stacks of scrolls, color-coded folders, and multiple filing systems somehow coexisting. Behind it sat a woman who barely cleared five feet, her brown curls escaping from what had probably started as a neat bun. She was stamping documents with mechanical precision.

  “Next!” she called without looking up.

  Ethan stepped forward and placed his Guild token on the counter. “I need to register an additional companion and formalize my party.”

  Mabel’s head snapped up, bright green eyes sparkling. “Oh! A Tamer with multiple companions—how exciting!” She glanced at the Pack, her enthusiasm shifting to something softer. “And look at this lovely family! Oh, you’ve all been together a while, haven’t you? I can always tell.”

  “Since the beginning,” Ethan admitted.

  “I knew it!” Mabel was already pulling out forms but paused to lean over the counter. “And who do we have here? And look at this loyal-beast companion! My, oh my, aren’t you a fine one.” she said to Moose, “and look at this energetic little one! And a wolf pup! Oh, she’s just precious!”

  Without breaking her stream of cheerful chatter, she reached into a drawer. “Now where did I... ah!” She produced several strips of beef jerky. “Here we are! Don’t tell anyone, but I keep these for special visitors.”

  She handed them out with practiced ease—one to each companion. Buster took his delicately and sat down, looking thoroughly won over.

  She’s... nice, Buster thought, clearly surprised. Actually nice. And she has good treats.

  “Now then!” Mabel continued, finally starting on the actual paperwork. “New companion registration, party formation certificate... oh! And your friend will need member documentation too!” She glanced at Lyra. “Are you registering as a specialist or full party member?”

  “Full party,” Ethan confirmed.

  “Wonderful! Now, I’ll need your name and class, dear.”

  “Lyra,” she said, then after a slight pause, “Scout.”

  “Scout! Excellent.” Mabel grinned. “You can say just about anything—just don’t say necromancer. That one’s banned. Seriously. Automatic review board, full lockout, and probably an awkward visit from someone in robes.”

  Ethan didn’t say anything out loud, but he reached toward Lyra through the bond. Why didn’t you tell them your real class?

  Because it’s rare, Lyra answered, calm but firm. And I don’t want it in their records. Not yet.

  Is it dangerous? Ethan asked.

  Not to you, she replied.

  “Just place your hand here,” Mabel said. “This crystal will log your level and base info for the Guild. Nothing invasive, I promise.”

  Lyra placed her hand on the crystal. It flared briefly—violet, then soft blue. Mabel watched the color shift, then nodded approvingly. “Good magical potential. No instability. That’s what I like to see.”

  She turned back to Lyra with a bright smile. “Alright, let’s get you in the system. Class?”

  “Scout,” Lyra repeated.

  “Perfect.” Mabel logged it. “That puts you comfortably in the D-rank range to start.”

  Then she paused, eyes narrowing just slightly as she studied Lyra’s face. “You look young. Which isn’t unusual for the Guild, but I do need to ask—how old are you?”

  Lyra hesitated. “Fifty-three.”

  Mabel blinked, then brightened. “Ah—Kitsune bloodlines. You age ridiculously well.”

  Lyra gave a small nod. “It’s a long road,” she said quietly.

  “That it is,” Mabel replied. She reached into a drawer and retrieved a polished copper token. “Rank D. That’ll give you access to mid-tier contracts and the specialist shops. You can always update it later if your role ever shifts.”

  She handed over a slim leather folder and set it beside the token. “All official now.”

  Ethan watched her work with something between admiration and fatigue. It was like being steamrolled by kindness.

  “Now, your newest companion—what’s this little darling’s name?”

  “Amelia,” Ethan said.

  “Oh, what a beautiful name! And she’s a wolf? How precious!” Mabel addressed Amelia directly. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. We’ll get you all official and proper. Would you like a pretty tag? I have some lovely ones in pewter that won’t tarnish...”

  As she worked, filling out forms with remarkable speed, she kept up her cheerful commentary. “You know, I’ve been doing this for eleven years now. Started when I wasn’t much older than your Amelia looks! And every single bonded pack is special, but there’s just something about families like yours...” She paused in her writing to smile at them. “You can tell you’ve been through things together. It shows—in a good way.”

  She slid forms across for signatures, still chattering happily. “Now, fair warning—multiple companions tend to draw attention. Some folks get curious, others get a bit competitive. There was this one Tamer who could barely manage his boar—he nearly fainted when he saw someone with twin panthers. And now here you are with four? Honestly, I might have to start taking notes.”

  She finished the last form with a flourish. “There! All done! Welcome to the Celdoras Adventurer’s Guild, Ethan Cross. And welcome to our little family too, Lyra!” She beamed at all of them. “Now you’re all properly documented and ready for adventures! Oh, I just love my job sometimes!”

  Ethan blinked. Honestly, she was kind of wonderful. Why did Aldric warn me about her?

  Pixie perked up through the bond, her voice gleeful. There he is! He came back!

  A familiar voice broke through the steady clatter of quills and parchment. “Everything squared away?”

  Aldric strolled up behind them, arms folded casually—and yet somehow still flexing.

  “Filed, stamped, registered, and officially mine,” Mabel said sweetly. She reached across the counter and smacked him playfully on the rear.

  “Mabel,” Aldric sighed.

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” she said with a wink, already reshuffling her papers.

  Ethan caught Aldric’s expression—long-suffering, faintly amused. He didn’t exactly roll his eyes, but it was close. Ah, Ethan thought. That’s why he warned me.

  Mabel leaned subtly toward Lyra as Aldric turned away. “If you’re smart, dear, you’ll lock that one down. Men like that?” She jabbed a thumb toward Ethan. “Quiet. Loyal. Stacks stats like no one’s business. And you’re not getting any younger,” she added in a stage whisper. “Fifty-three is the new thirty, but still.”

  Lyra blinked, caught between confusion and embarrassment. “I—I don’t—”

  “Butt taps,” Mabel added helpfully. “Never underestimate them. Men like to feel seen.”

  Lyra’s cheeks flushed, the tips of her ears flicking in surprise.

  Ethan caught the edge of it through the bond. He didn’t say anything—but he heard Pixie snort with laughter.

  She’s not wrong, Pixie said brightly. Aldric’s a very impressive man-specimen. All those muscles! I bet he could bench a dire boar!

  “Almost done!” Mabel announced, cheerful as ever. “Standard registration fee—five copper pieces for full members, and seven copper bits for new bonded companions.”

  Ethan reached for his pouch and handed over the bits without comment.

  “Don’t worry,” Mabel said, logging the payment with a smile. “You’re getting your money’s worth. We’ve got the best board in the region.”

  There was a quiet nudge in the bond. You didn’t have to pay for me, Lyra said quietly.

  Wasn’t really thinking about it, Ethan replied.

  He really hadn’t thought about it. He’d just counted out the money the way he always did when the Pack needed something. She was Pack now—that’s just how it worked. She felt genuinely happy about it—no one had really looked out for her like that before. Through the bond, Ethan could tell it meant something to her, even if neither of them made a big deal about it.

  Mabel, blissfully unaware, gestured toward the large quest board behind her. “Contracts update hourly. You’re cleared to browse or take one now—just tap your token to log acceptance.”

  “Thanks,” Ethan said. “We’ll take a look.”

  He stepped away with the Pack. The board was wide, framed in dark wood and lined with glowing anchor runes. Dozens of postings floated mid-air—some printed, some hand-penned, others glowing with official seals.

  Courier needed for westbank deliveries – ?1 copper + T2 copper

  Rat infestation reported near Dyer’s Row – ?1 copper + T8 copper + bonus

  Sewer maintenance route B – ?2 copper (hazard pay available)

  Dungeon Access Granted – Celdoras Outskirts, Tier I.

  Entry allowed with Guild token. Proof of completion required. Fee: ?5 silver.

  “They really post rat quests,” Ethan muttered. “I thought that was just a trope.”

  “Oh, they’re real,” said a voice beside him.

  A younger adventurer—late teens, maybe—leaned in to scan the board. “Rats, slimes, sewer gators… if it bites or smells, the Guild wants it cleared.”

  “Efficient,” Ethan said.

  “You new?” the boy asked, glancing at him.

  “First day,” Ethan replied.

  The teen grinned. “Then yeah. Start with the rats. Welcome to the bottom rung.”

  Ethan gave him a nod and turned to go. The Pack fell in close—Moose silent, Amelia attentive, Buster still chewing, and Pixie practically vibrating with curiosity.

  Do you think Aldric fights dragons? Pixie whispered through the bond. He looks like someone who fights dragons. Maybe he’d let me watch!

  Ethan sighed inwardly, already picturing the chaos that idea would cause. “Let’s focus on rats first,” he said, adjusting his pack strap. “Dragons can wait.”

  The Pack moved with him through the bustling Guild hall, the hum of voices fading behind them as the heavy doors swung open once more to the streets of Celdoras. For the first time since entering the city, Ethan felt the bond steady—each pulse in sync, each presence aligned.

  Whatever came next, they’d face it together.