The Wolf's Den Fortress stood on a hill near the city of Salem. Its dark walls of rectangular stones formed a square around the three-story main building.

  By New Avalon standards, it was a small fortress, reserved for medium-sized guilds to establish dominance over a region.

  Ragnar and Havoc walked side by side, climbing the small hill that would take them to the fortress gate.

  Along the way, Ragnar got to know the swordswoman. From their conversations, she seemed like a mix of Artic and Niki; calm and focused like the knight. But when it came to the game, she displayed an excitement worthy of the assassin.

  Halfway there, Havoc stopped to enjoy the scenery when a gust of wind blew her long blonde hair back. Ragnar took the opportunity to do the same: closed his eyes, and felt the wind sway the strands of his tousled hair.

  "Can you believe it's just a game?" her voice was soft, carried by the tranquility of the environment.

  "When it seems like I've seen everything this world has to offer, it's moments like this that surprise me and make me reflect."

  He opened his eyes in time to see her navigating through a system window. Moments later, a message appeared.

  Havoc would like to repair the Viper's Ruin for 20 rubros

  But he protested, "Twenty rubros? You're the one who broke it.”

  "That's the price of the piece of iron needed for the repair. I'm not charging you the service fee, so consider this an apology."

  Ragnar sighed before accepting the repair offer as he didn't know if he would see the assassin girl again anytime soon. It had been a while since they met in the game.

  "Do you like this guild?" he asked, as soon as they started walking again.

  "Yeah," Havoc said. "I think you'll like it too. At first, the way we behave might seem strange. Zed, our leader, created the Black Paw along the lines of a paramilitary organization. So it's all about role-playing, you get into the game and let yourself go."

  Like an army of crooks, Ragnar thought. But he wanted to know one thing about her.

  "Do you have any ambitions in this game?"

  "It's just a silly dream, but... I've always wanted to be a professional player."

  "And do you think Black Paw can help you with that?"

  "It already helped by giving me this sword."

  Ragnar was happy that the girl had ambitions to become a professional, but he was disappointed that she was happy within the Black Paw. Bringing her over to his side could take a lot of work.

  Havoc turned her back and began to walk away.

  "Your spear is beautiful. The snake-head-shaped tip is awesome. How did you get it?"

  "In a top-secret chamber."

  "Ah, I see..."

  She took a misstep, her arms flailed in the wind as her body leaned backward. Ragnar conjured his roots on impulse, and they sprouted from the ground beneath the girl and held her by the torso, preventing her from falling.

  “Thank you. That was close, and... what scary reflexes you have.”

  Ragnar thanked her for the compliment, and then they walked on until they reached the gate in the wall, guarded by two soldiers.

  Havoc greeted them with a wave of her hand. They bowed and opened the gate. The pair moved on. Inside the wall was a large courtyard crammed with boxes. It looked more like a warehouse than a guild headquarters.

  As they walked, players and NPCs greeted Havoc, some gesturing in respect, bowing, or pounding their chests.

  "The people here respect you a lot," said Ragnar.

  “Perks of being a lieutenant," she said, pounding her chest.

  They arrived at the central building of the fortress. She repeated the same gesture to the guards as she had done to the soldiers at the gate. The door was opened, and they entered.

  Ragnar remained behind Havoc as they walked across the red carpet. Then they stopped in front of the throne where the guild leader sat. He stood up, clasped his hands, then said, "Lieutenant Havoc, I hope you’re bringing some good news, for the soldiers in your squad are furious with the druid.”

  Zed turned his sharp gaze to Ragnar, who only had eyes for the axe leaning against the side of the throne. His curiosity made him use the analyze command, bringing up a window with the item's information:

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Havoc stepped forward and answered the boss's question, "General Zed. After a long and difficult battle, Ragnar has decided to join us."

  "Great. We need new blood in our ranks, especially a druid. You are as rare as unicorns."

  The warrior noticed where the newcomer's attention was focused. He returned to the throne and picked up the axe leaning against it.

  "Druid, what do you think of my weapon?"

  "Visually impressive, reasonably good for your level."

  Zed placed his right hand on his belly and let out a laugh. Havoc elbowed Ragnar in the ribs.

  "You're bold. I like you," said Zed, resting the axe on his shoulder. He opened the game menu and browsed through the options. A message appeared for Ragnar:

  Zed has invited you to join the Black Paw guild

  Ragnar accepted the invitation. Now he could consult the guild's basic information: its members, organizational structure, possessions, achievements, and other information available on the special panel.

  His first action was to confirm the number of members: there were 104 registered in total, 31 of whom were online at the moment. Their average level was 34, with three high-ranking players close to 50, Zed being the only one to reach that milestone.

  "Congratulations," said the leader. "You are now an official member of the Black Paw. I hope your participation will be as beneficial to me as it is to you."

  Havoc turned to Ragnar with a smile.

  "Welcome," she said.

  Ragnar said nothing.

  Zed's expression betrayed his intention to get down to business.

  "Lieutenant Havoc and Recruit Ragnar, accompany me to the Treasure Room."

  Not even a please. The guy really sees this guild as his private army, reflected the druid as they headed for the side exit of the Throne Room.

  Zed led them. His steady steps and upright posture, coupled with the black axe strapped to his back, made him look like a caricature of a tough soldier. Havoc was no different, having adopted a similar posture since they had entered the fortress.

  "Relax a little," said Ragnar.

  She shook her head.

  Ragnar noticed how large the fortress was for that guild. There were dozens of corridors and rooms, but everything was empty or sparsely furnished, causing the warrior's metal greaves to reverberate in an unnerving way.

  But it wasn't just the lack of furniture that bothered Ragnar. There were no people at all—not even guild members or NPCs like employees or soldiers.

  It was to be expected that a guild in control of a new, low-level region would not be as organized as high-level guilds, but Ragnar did not expect such neglect. And that was good, because it would be easier to convert the swordswoman to his side.

  "This is our armory," Zed said as they entered the only well-decorated environment besides the throne room.

  The armory was a wide corridor with racks and partitions. The guild's spare weapons were stored on the racks, and to remove them, one had to belong to a specific rank within the organization or have permission from someone high up in the hierarchy.

  Ragnar walked over to the rack where the spears were displayed. Recruits like him could only take weapons below level 5, while lieutenants like Havoc had access to weapons up to level 20. The same rule applied to the armor on the walls, shelves, and wooden mannequins.

  "Fortunately, druid," said Zed. "Your equipment is better than anything we have here." And he started walking. "Come, we're almost there."

  They had to cross three more corridors and climb one flight of stairs before reaching the Treasure Room.

  Ragnar imagined himself walking in and finding chests full of coins, display cases with jewels, and a row of safes crammed with the guild's greatest treasures, but it was nothing more than a glorified storage room with dozens of open crates, a closet-sized safe, and several shelves holding the trinkets they had accumulated.

  "Impressive, isn't it?" said Zed, opening his arms.

  "Very, very impressive," Ragnar replied, trying to be polite.

  "I like to value my recruits, so I'm going to give you a little something we found in a dungeon.

  You'll throw at me the first piece of druid junk you couldn't get rid of, and you'll still make it look like you're being generous, and that I should be grateful for it.

  Zed went to a shelf next to the window and took out a book titled The Circle of the Moon. A rare item.

  Books were a mystery in New Avalon. They could contain spells to be learned, clues to a special mission, or nothing more than a good read to delve deeper into the history and folklore of the world. And since the latter option represented 99% of the books in the game, it was common to see new or unaware players throwing them away or ignoring them altogether.

  But that could be the best gift in the world, because to understand their writings, one had to belong to the druid class and be above level 10.

  Ragnar approached the guild leader and accepted the gift, saying, "Thank you."

  "Now let's take care of your debt," Zed began. "Although we are now colleagues, that doesn't change the fact that you ruined one of our establishments. But I'll be generous and give you two months to pay the 20,000 rubros you owe us."

  Ragnar felt his blood boil, not because he felt threatened by the demand, but because of the big shot's nerve.

  "Thank you," he replied, with no intention of paying.

  "You learn fast and you don't complain. You'll do very well at the Black Paw." The leader turned to Havoc. "Lieutenant, I want you to accompany him on his first mission with us."

  She nodded, and Zed continued, "Our iron mine has been taken over by goblins. We need it back up and running as soon as possible. I believe you two can handle the job. If you complete the mission, I promise I'll deduct a thousand rubros from your debt."

  They accepted the request. Zed smiled and returned to the Throne Room. When his footsteps could barely be heard inside the Treasure Room, Havoc said, "Shall we go?"

  “Already?” said Ragnar, impressed by her dedication to the guild.

  “Of course. Or are you saying you have something else to do? We can go later if that's the case.”

  "I'd like to stay a little longer. I want to get to know the people here."

  Havoc smiled and nodded. Ragnar then turned to inspect the items stored in the Treasure Room. The only thing that caught his attention were the crates filled with rocks. He took one in his hand and examined it closely: it was iron.

  Just like in the real world, iron was an abundant resource, but it was widely used, so there was always demand for it.

  Out of curiosity, he held a nugget in his hand and then stored it in his inventory, expecting to see a message screaming that his rank was too low to withdraw the item, but nothing happened.

  Trying hard to hide his excitement, Ragnar opened the guild panel and checked the restrictions for each rank. As expected, recruits could not remove items, but there was a category listed as an exception: ores.

  They definitely screwed up, Ragnar thought.

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