Adam and Annette were among the first applicants in line for the open petition day at the palace. Adam had insisted and Annette had agreed, she had far better things to do than wait in line all day and was willing to sacrifice some sleep for the hour-long journey from the Flats up to the palace before dawn. They were in their sect formalwear, though without Laurel or Martin along, Annette had left the expensive jewelry at home. With only a few other petitioners in front of them, they were called in and sent over to a plain looking man sitting behind a large desk, slightly raised off the floor. The only piece of the whole tableau out of place was a flamboyant pen in the shape of a golden feather. He did a double take when they approached and sat up straighter.

  “How may the palace assist you today?”

  Annette took a steadying breath before pasting on a smile and responding to the man. “We are here to register a new guild.”

  The man’s eyes widened and the two nearest administrators who had also heard the comment were gaping at them.

  “I see. Well there are quite a few forms and requirements that need to be met in that case. First do you have a Guild Establishment Request Form?”

  Adam produced a thick bundle of papers and aggressively laid them on the table. He was still angry with the palace for the suit filed against the sect, and had only agreed to let Annette take the lead in the discussion after days of cajoling and arguments. The administrator leafed through the packet far faster than Annette would have expected. With each page he looked more and more disheartened until he carefully tapped the whole thing on the desk to align the pages and set it aside.

  “The preliminaries appear to be in order. Now we can get into the rest of the process. While your application will be reviewed, a verbal interview is also required.” The functionary pulled out an even thicker stack of papers and pulled the first one forward. “Now, what industry, trade, hobby, or vocation will your guild represent?”

  “Magic users, the creation and distribution of magic services and items.” Annette answered almost absently as she watched the golden pen write of its own accord.

  “I see. Can you verify that a significant portion of that market is willing to join such an organization?”

  Annette was not looking forward to reviewing all the information that was in the application they had just submitted, but kept a smile on her face through years of practice. Laurel might have a point about the palace bureaucracy being difficult to navigate.

  “Yes, our application includes a list of individuals, organizations, and families that account for the requisite threshold for magic power in the country.”

  “By law, guilds must have a membership application process that anyone can access and join. How will you be verifying this?”

  “Membership is determined in several levels. Anyone who completes a standard application and can demonstrate an external application of magic or verified internal application from a guild officer will be considered for basic membership. Competency, as determined by assessments or verifiable deeds can allow for a higher level of membership. Recognized organizations of magic users can apply for group membership as well.”

  “You don’t think that’s an undue burden for applications?” The man raised an eyebrow, while his pen never stopped moving.

  “Members in the Kitchen need to be able to cook, don’t they? Members of the Scholar’s Guild need a degree. I don’t think there is anything undue about asking people to prove they can actually do magic.”

  “And the benefit to Meristan society? What arguments are you making there?”

  Annette reached into the bag she carried and pulled out a bottle of liquid, a rock, and an embroidered scrap of fabric. “I bought these yesterday in the market in the Garion neighborhood.”

  “I fail to see –”

  “These,” Annette spoke over the man’s interruption, “are perfectly mundane seashells being sold as magical artifacts. A guild allows for regulation and authentication of such items. A guild license process will allow Meristan citizens to ensure goods and services they contract are valid. We also prevent others from taking advantage of magic users. And perhaps most important to the palace, this allows a formal method for the government to contract with magic users to maintain the mana infrastructure of a region.”

  The man’s eyes had glazed over by the end of the explanation, but he didn’t press them any further.

  “That appears to be in order. Now onto guild rules and regulations.”

  The interview continued for ages. So much for saving time. Annette was forced to explain everything from the different tiers of membership, the open job board, guild leadership structures, location, even whether or not food would be served in their guildhall and if so, would it be free to members. Since at the moment their guildhall was the rickety shop Laurel and Adam had rented in the slums, the last, at least, was easily answered. Adam sat quietly, per their agreement. She could feel his annoyance spike every time they needed to repeat something he had already labored over in painstaking calligraphy, but he refrained from calling the administrator an idiot so Annette was thrilled.

  “Congratulations, you are provisionally approved as a new guild, and may begin operating as such. Permanent status will be reviewed in half a years’ time, with full rights to be conferred afterwards. Good luck and welcome to the gauntlet.” Their application was stamped with official palace ink and it was done. They had half a year to survive all the other guilds and noble houses attempting to tear them down, and prove themselves worthy. A grin split her face as they made their way outside. She couldn’t wait, let the battle commence.

  ********

  Madam Sabrina met Annette at the newly confirmed guildhall, Adam having begged off since his official duties as their trained Scribe had been completed. The elegant woman was looking over the storefront with a considering frown.

  “I’ve seen worse,” she said.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Annette produced a key and they entered the shop. The detritus of the months as their home base was mostly gone. A few pieces of paper with half-formed to-do lists remained on the desk, while a drooping potted plant clung to life in the corner of the window. Quick reconnaissance of the back rooms showed a similar barren atmosphere and one disturbingly moldy loaf of bread.

  “It has good bones,” Annette announced into the dusty quiet.

  That earned a snort from Sabrina. “Not exactly a fashionable guildhall location.”

  “Yes, well, if you want to buy some property in a better district and donate it to the guild I don’t think I’ll be stopping you.”

  “As I said,” Sabrina replied, “a good place to start out. We’ll send some of the kids to bring supplies over and have it looking proper soon enough.” She interrupted herself by dragging a chair through the dust and into the corner with the best light and gesturing for Annette to do the same. “Let’s talk business. Everyone is going to come for us. I’ve been brainstorming and I know you have ideas.”

  “The membership application fees for our sect members was deposited yesterday in the guild bank account. With your approval as acting chair, I’m thinking we take out advertisements in the major papers, for services like item evaluation, and potentially basic healing, anything we can think of. Hit hard and fast, with a big enough splash that the larger guilds can’t crush us quietly.”

  “It might antagonize some of them, but I agree we need to make a splash. And an income stream. What about the other guilds? We’ll be feeling pressure from all sides.” Sabrina said.

  “I have some ideas.” Annette was desperately wishing they had already furnished the shop before these talks, a cup of tea would do wonders for this conversation. “I’m not sure we can plan until they make a move though.”

  “Let’s start with the Scribe’s Guild,” Sabrina said. She proceeded to list out all of the guilds with branches in the city, along with several of the major noble families and other rich people whose opinion mattered. “Don’t start flagging now, we’re only getting started.”

  The rest of the afternoon was spent planning attacks and counterattacks. Drawing up lists of allies and people they needed to woo with some well-timed favors. Annette stumbled into her bed face-first by the end of it, not moving until the following sunrise.

  *******

  Martin was standing in the middle of the Via Merista, the city behind him, the lower districts masked in fog, with the palace glittering above in the dawn light. Devon had agreed to join him and was currently kneeling in the middle of the road. Spring was well underway and fading fast, summer swiftly approaching, and he knew Laurel was due back in a couple of weeks. He was champing at the bit to drop all of the tedious fucking chores he had acquired into her lap the minute she got home. At least this was something interesting and part of his actual duties as Battlemaster.

  “Well? You see the problem right?”

  “The problem?” Devon was incensed and Martin held the laugh in with a struggle. “It’s completely open and the peninsula gets so wide so quickly that a decent wall will take ages to finish. Even with the prep work you’ve been doing, don’t think I didn’t notice that. That’s not a problem, it's a travesty.”

  “Yup, but it's our travesty. I’ve been starting to reinforce things for a foundation but it’s not ready. And of course we need like seventeen different people to agree to something like that, which they won’t do without discussing it for a year and a half.

  “The area is absolutely steeped in ambient mana. The two of us should be able to figure something out.”

  “We’ll have to, won’t we? Have you told any of the mortals yet?” Devon asked.

  “Not yet,” Martin said. “I was hoping Laurel would be back before it built up too far but it can’t be helped.”

  “Has the Core given you any idea of what to expect?”

  “It’s a lot less precise than the old masters made it look, but I think it's a fucking horde.”

  “Those are the worst. One big monster is so much better, isn’t that what happened last time?”

  “Yeah, but the Core wasn’t established enough for a good warning. And I wasn’t expecting this next one to come so fast. I swear if Laurel doesn’t bring back something to up the repulsion more, I’m going to go mad.”

  *********

  Fort Sarken was as ugly as ever when Martin walked up to the entrance the next morning. His highest streak of days avoiding the king’s council was at an end, and he figured the generals would be the most straightforward options to start. And the ones most able to do anything. He gave the structure a spiritual sweep as he approached. Nothing. It had probably been too much to hope that the building that was supposed to defend the city had anything in the way of enchanted protections. His name, along with flashing a jade seal with the sect insignia had one of the guards on duty leading him further in. The room he was brought to was that Verilian architectural classic, a bare stone box. He rolled his eyes behind the soldier. One day, people would learn that serious conversations did not require ugly rooms. The soldier left him there to run after General Mansfeln, and Martin was immediately bored. Laurel might keep a novel on hand for these situations but that was not his preferred way to waste time. The conference room didn’t have enough open space for combat practice, so instead he leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and let his spiritual senses extend through the compound. It was standard, as military outposts always were. The guns were new, and the planes, and the gear, but he had seen a thousand places just like it. Soldiers were drilling in one area, while an officer shouted down a new recruit in another, assigning the man an awful cleaning detail as punishment.

  A few flinched when his perception passed over them. The new batch of cultivators then. Decent enough foundations, but none had broken through to the initiate level yet. The most advanced of them had gone with Laurel, but at least a few of these were ready to break through. Good. The dumb mana reinforcement and magical chores he had been doing as reparations for the sham of a trial – which he hadn’t even been here for – had him thoroughly agreeing with the decision to keep their secrets close. Including the easiest way to open meridians. They could figure it out themselves or pay for assistance from the sect. Though Laurel probably helped the ones with her anyway. He felt for her, he did, but losing one student had her overcompensating with the rest.

  An eternity later, a man with a serious aura stomped towards his waiting room. Martin rolled his shoulders and stood up to meet the general.

  Mansfeln walked in with an irritated expression. The aides accompanying him sat to the side without making eye contact. In a mood with Martin, apparently.

  “General Mansfeln, if you didn’t know. So? To what do I owe the pleasure of being dragged out of an important strategy meeting. With. No Notice?” He bit out the last words with enough venom to cow a lesser man. Martin was actually impressed.

  “Did Laurel explain why that leviathan attacked in the fall?”

  The general heaved a big enough sigh that his mustache hairs fluttered when he let it out. “Yes. Dense ambient mana and something with the Core. A bunch of magical nonsense meaning we’ll be repelling attacks every year or two. Something I was in the middle of strategizing about if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “Right. Every year or two makes sense if the infrastructure supporting the Core was already properly anchored, or if the city was smaller. When Laurel gets back from her mission she’ll be working on that. But for now, the timing is more variable.” The general tried to cut him off but Martin spoke over him. “And the next of these waves will be coming in about two weeks.”

  “Son of a whore! You could start with that next time, man. Weeks, Tribet, go get the others. And a map of the city.” The aides sprinted away to follow orders. When they were alone the general turned back to Martin. “How confident are you in the timeline?”

  “Very. You should be impressed. Last fall the Core wasn’t strong enough to give more than a few minutes warning when that thing attacked. Now we have weeks.”

  “I don’t suppose your talents extend to more exact descriptions of the threat?” It was quite impressive how well a man could embody the idea of ‘glaring daggers’.

  “Not as specific as I would like. I can tell it's not going to be one big monster this time. We’re going to get what we used to call a horde wave. Lots of weak beasts, attacking all at once. Which is one of the reasons we used to build walls around cities.”

  “Verilia used to have walls, they were damaged beyond repair four hundred years ago. No real point in rebuilding with modern weapons, but that’s not exactly relevant at the moment. We aren’t building walls in two weeks. Do you have anything besides bad news to add?”

  “Of course! You lucky men and women get me here to help you make a plan. And of course the sect will fight as per our agreement.” He remembered Annette’s instructions from that morning just in time. “Though if you want assistance from the others, you will need to contract through the guild.”

  “Oh, you have a guild now? And what makes you think we need any assistance? I’m not running a nursery here, these men and women are trained soldiers.”

  “For one, one of those people is a master enchanter, which you are definitely in need of. For another, your soldiers weren’t all that effective against the last monster attack were they? And most crucially, you have a horde of monsters attacking a very large, very vulnerable group of citizens. You need all the help you can get.”

  The man stewed in silence for a few minutes while they waited for the others. “Is Laurel getting back any time soon?”

  “Stars, I hope so.”

  A grunted agreement was all he got until the rest of the commanding officers appeared. Then Martin got to discuss the whole thing all over again. At least when the conversation evolved into defense planning, Mansfeln forgot some of his annoyance at Martin, and took the man’s suggestions to heart. It was well past dinner by the time he made it back to the sect, with promises to return the following day.