Lily found herself in a modest chamber, stone walls enclosing a long table strewn with scrolls, the phoenix emblem painted proudly behind it. Margarette set down Lily’s folder with practiced precision.
George sank into the chair opposite Lily, beaming as though he were about to preside over the most prestigious trial in Heliosa.
“Alright, lass.” He twirled the quill from his fingers. “Full name?”
“Lily Holloway.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Good. Old enough not to cry when things get ugly.” George scribbled on the ledger. “Place of origin?”
“Heliosa.”
“Fighting skills?”
Lily sat up straighter. “I’ve hunted wolves and boars, killed goblins and ogres, and faced worse things that roam the roads at night. I even crossed paths with a basilisk once, though I can’t claim that kill. I know how to track, scout, and fight in the wild. That’s the work I like best, dealing with monsters and beasts. My main weapon is the sword, and I’m skilled with daggers too.”
George's eyebrows went up, impressed. “Not bad. Better than half the pups who crawl in here bragging they killed a rat once.”
Margarette shot him a glare. “Please make this official, captain.” She slid the form closer, pen poised, her patience thinning.
He wagged the quill at Lily. “Truth is, lass, I’d gladly take you under my wing. But with your skills, tracking, scouting, and hunting beasts, you’d fit even better with Darian’s squad. His team handles the wild more than mine does.”
Lily's eyes lit up. “A hunting team? That’s exactly the kind of work I like.”
Margarette grimaced. “Darian? You can’t be serious.”
Lily confused. “What about him?”
Margarette crossed her arms, lips pursed. “Let’s just say… Captain Barnes doesn’t exactly work well with women. He barely talks even to me, and I work here every day. If you end up under him, don’t expect long speeches. You’ll be lucky to get two words strung together.”
Lily raised a brow. “Issues with women? That’s a new one. I’ve never heard of that before.”
Margarette sighed. “Right? Like, he freezes up. Men can follow him anywhere, but one polite ‘hello’ from a woman and he forgets how to breathe.”
George coughed on a laugh and nearly dropped his quill. “It’s true. Ogres, wyverns, shadow-beasts, he stares them down without blinking. But if a lass asks him what time it is, he panics.”
“Sounds… dependable.” Lily said sarcastically.
“Don’t mock him.” Margarette even fought a smile. “He is dependable, one of the best hunters we’ve got. But don’t expect eye contact until winter ends. I don’t think he will take her.”
George gave a firm nod. “Aye, but Holloway lass’s skills fit his squad like a glove. He’ll just have to deal. And if I’m too busy, she’s better off with Darian than left waiting.”
Margarette exhaled. “Fine. But you’re the one telling him. If I have to chase him down again, I swear—”
George waved her toward the door. “Go on, lass. Bring him here. Tell him it’s important.”
“If I can even find him…” She gathered her skirts neatly and slipped out, the click of her shoes fading down the hall.
Silence settled in her absence.
George pushed back from his chair and wandered toward one of the cluttered shelves, rummaging through scattered papers and half-forgotten bottles. Lily watched him in silence with a puzzled look, uncertain what he meant to find. Then came a small, victorious sound. George produced a bottle of wine from behind a pile of maps and grinned, refilling his cup as if he’d just found treasure.
At last, footsteps returned in the corridor.
The door creaked open, and a tall man entered without a word. Dark leathers and battered plates marked him as a patrolman, not a court soldier, a bow across his back and a blade riding low at his side. His hair was tied back, his face set in a calm, unreadable line. His brown eyes moved once around the room towards George, the desk, the empty chair, then stopped on Lily. For just a second, he looked caught off guard. A subtle frown creased his face as he cleared his throat and turned toward George. “Y-you didn’t mention,” he stuttered, “that the recruit was… a wo-woman.”
George’s grin was already forming. “Aye, and? She’s not just some tavern maid, Darian. Lily here has more experience than half the new recruits running around the yard. Beasts, goblins, ogres… hell, even a basilisk.”
Darian uncomfortably shifted, his gaze fixed on the floorboards now. “…I-I don’t… take women into my squad. D-Doesn’t work well.”
Lily rose from where she seated. “I won’t be a burden. I’ve had experience since I was young. I know the wild, the roads, and the dangers. I can carry my own weight.”
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Darian heard her but didn’t answer. Instead, he half-turned back away as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “B-Best to place her elsewhere.”
George didn’t smile. He spoke evenly, as if repeating a decision already made. “No can do, lad. Orders from Master Theron himself. She’s yours.”
“Master Theron?”
“Aye.” George tapped his quill against the parchment, casual as ever. “Said she’d fit right in with your squad. You’re short-handed, and her skills match your field jobs. Call it fate.”
Darian’s shoulders tensed. “…I said—”
“She’s Samuel Holloway’s daughter,” George cut in smoothly.
Darian froze. His eyes flicked to Lily, then to the parchment on George’s desk. He picked it up, and scanned the name written there. His hand lingered on the page as though weighing it. “…Holloway,” he reads, barely audible.
Lily tried to meet his gaze. “He’s my dad.”
Something changed in Darian’s expression. He was still guarded and stiff, but now there was respect and a hint of unease underneath. Samuel Holloway, a name written into guild history. A true soldier, and someone Darian had admired since he was young.
He looked away, his brain struggling. His posture betrayed the pull between instinct and duty, between avoidance and respect. Finally, his chin dipped in a barely perceptible nod. “…Fine.”
George slapped his hand on the table, chuckling. “Hah! Knew it! Knew you’d come around.”
The door creaked open for the third time, and Margarette swept in, skirts held up in her hand, a little out of breath. “There you are!” she glared at Darian. "I've been chasing after you down the hall, and all the while you’re in here? Do you enjoy making me chase your back, Captain?”
“I-I told you, don’t call me Captain,” Darian muttered without looking at her. “J-Just Darian.”
A rumble of amusement rolled out of George. “Hear that, lass? Man doesn’t even like his titles.” He clapped Darian on the shoulder and turned him toward Lily. “Here, face the poor girl when you talk to her!”
Darian stiffened, eyes still lowered. He spoke quickly, words tumbling out in clipped bursts. “I’ll… c-contact you, miss… when there’s work. Report promptly. D-Don’t be late.”
And before anyone could reply, he pivoted on his heel and strode out the door.
Margarette stared after him, annoyed. “Unbelievable. He makes me look like a fool chasing him, and then he leaves again!”
Lily folded her arms. “…Do I really have to work under him?”
“Oh, aye. Best you’ll ever get. Reliable as a wolfhound, even if he acts like he’s running from you.”
Margarette scoffed under her breath, “More like running from every woman in all Heliosa.”
Lily sighed, half-amused, half-doubtful. “This is going to be… interesting.”
With that, Margarette gathered her notes from the table. “Come along, Lily. There’s still one last step before you can be sworn in.”
George stretched with a groan. “Hold on. Can’t march on an empty cup.”
He turned back to the desk. Poured himself a generous refill, then paused, staring at the nearly empty bottle. His brows knit in a brief, dramatic struggle. After a heartbeat, he sighed and tucked the bottle under his arm as if rescuing a wounded comrade.
“Waste not, suffer not.” George muttered solemnly.
Margarette watched the whole thing and rolled her eyes.
Lily couldn’t help but giggle.
And with that, they left the chamber behind, their footsteps carrying them down a long, stone-lined corridor of banners until the air grew warmer, touched by the scent of smoke and incense.
The Phoenix Brazier Hall stood tall at the center of the Guild. Its roof arched high like a temple, and the walls glowed with mosaics of fire and gold. At the far end, a great brazier burned. Its flames never dimming, fed by oil, incense, and old vows. The fire was not merely in her honor, it was Shaelira’s own flame. Preserved since the founding of the guild and never once allowed to die.
Before they reached the brazier, Margarette slowed down. She pointed to the long corridor lined with plaques, portraits, and carved crests. Candles flickered along the walls, their light shining on gilded frames.
“The founders of the Sun Peninsula Guild. The first Guildmasters, men and women who built this hall with their own money and effort. Their word became our code.” Her hand moved down the line to a large portrait. “And now, our current leader. Master Theron Vanderbilt. An S-rank, and one of the greatest fighters of his generation. He complains like a grandfather, but he’s the backbone that keeps us standing.”
She pointed to the gilded plaques under Theron’s portrait. “The Phoenix Five. The Guild’s strength. His group of legends.”
Reverence softened her as she named them one by one:
“Jason, the Champion. Strongest in the Guild. No one has bested him in combat.
Diego, the Maverick Whipmaster. Huntsman, beastslayer, reckless to the point of madness… but brilliant. Dangerous, yes. But gods, he is good.”
Her lips curved slightly as she looked at his portrait before she caught herself.
Lily tilted her head, amused. “Do you… like him?”
Margarette’s cheeks flushed. “Like him? No! I just… well… maybe. He’s… charming. But never mind.”
“Sounds like a crush to me.” Lily teased.
Margarette shot her a playful glare and pressed on. “Seraphina, the Ageless Witch. A woman who fooled kings and made legends question themselves… and yes, she is my mother.”
“Your mother is one of the Phoenix Five?”
Margarette gave her a proud smile. “Yes. She’d scold me for saying it, but she’s the reason I’m here.”
Respect stirred in Lily.
“Caspian, the Silver Tongue,” Margarette continued. “Our strategist and diplomat. Keeps the Guild’s honor intact where steel cannot.”
Lily slowed at the final plaque with black, featureless.
“Why’s his portrait just… empty?”
Margarette looked around before she leaned closer to her. “Because no one really knows much about him. They called him The Ghost, the Guild’s spymaster. Some say he’s everywhere and nowhere, moving from kingdom to kingdom, always lurking in the shadows where you least expect. No one ever suspects him. Only Master Theron has seen his true face.” She hesitated, lowering her voice further. “Some even think he’s not just the most dangerous of the Phoenix Five, but the most dangerous in the entire realm.”
A chill prickled down Lily’s arms. Goosebumps raced across her skin, half fear, half curiosity. She cast a last glance at the black plaque, unsettled and oddly intrigued, before following Margarette to the wider bronze wall etched with ten names.
“And here, the Captains of Heliosa. Ten in all, each guarding a territory.”
Lily scanned until her eyes caught on two familiar names. “George Servis. Darian Barnes.”
Margarette glanced back for George, certain he had been following them. Instead, she spotted him already waylaid by a circle of veteran guild members, chatting too loudly as he smacked one of them on the shoulder like an old drinking companion. He looked nothing like a captain and everything like a man who had found an excuse to stay where the conversation was warm and any alcohol was close. Margarette closed her eyes with long-suffering sigh.
“Yes. Captain Servis, gods help us, runs Solmyra’s squad. And Captain Barnes keeps mostly to the borders or mountains. Soon, your name will be etched here too, under his banner.”
“Just Darian,” Lily chirped.
Margarette met her gaze, the same weary amusement passing between them. “Yes, just Darian. He’ll never accept the title he’s earned.”
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