Eldmere did not welcome people loudly.
It watched them.
Stone walls rose like silent judges, etched with old runes worn smooth by time and politics. Merchants, adventurers, nobles, mercenaries—everyone passed through the gates, but not everyone belonged.
Reeve felt it immediately.
This city runs on rules,
and rules are just quieter weapons.
The Guild Registry Hall stood near the center of Eldmere—wide, rectangular, and deliberately plain. No banners. No symbols. Only a carved stone plaque above the entrance:
"All Alliances Begin Here."
Inside, the hall was busy but controlled. Desks arranged in rows. Clerks moving with trained efficiency. Magical crystals hovering above counters, recording names, affiliations, and intent.
A woman with silver-rimmed glasses looked up as they approached.
"Purpose?" she asked, already reaching for a ledger.
Lunareth stepped forward.
"Guild registration."
The clerk's eyes sharpened slightly.
"New guild?"
"Yes."
That single word shifted the atmosphere.
The clerk gestured to a side counter.
"Names. Structure. Roles. Intent."
Reeve stepped up without realizing it.
The others didn't stop him.
"Guild name?" the clerk asked.
Reeve inhaled once.
"Eclipse Collectors."
The crystal above the desk flickered.
Paused.
Then glowed faintly darker than the others.
The clerk's pen hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.
"…Unusual name," she said.
"We prefer it that way," Reeve replied calmly.
She nodded and continued.
"Guild type?"
Kaelith answered this time.
"Hybrid. Adventure and merchant-aligned."
"Primary activities?"
Reeve spoke again.
"Exploration. Retrieval. Information."
"Selective contracts only."
The clerk finally looked directly at him.
"Selective?"
"We don't take work blindly."
Something unreadable crossed her expression.
"Leader?" she asked.
Silence.
Lunareth, Elaryn, and Kaelith all looked at Reeve.
The clerk followed their gaze.
"…You?" she asked.
Reeve paused.
He thought of manipulation.
Of systems.
Of people.
"Yes," he said.
"For now."
The crystal pulsed once, as if acknowledging the phrase for now.
"Members?" the clerk continued.
Names were recorded.
Roles loosely defined—nothing rigid, nothing permanent.
When the clerk reached the final page, she stopped.
"By registering," she said, voice flat and official,
"you acknowledge that guilds are subject to city oversight, political observation, and… influence."
Reeve met her eyes.
"We understand."
She slid the document forward.
"Blood or mana imprint."
Reeve placed his hand on the seal.
The moment his mana touched the crystal—
It reacted.
Not violently.
Not brightly.
It went quiet.
Too quiet.
The clerk frowned, adjusted the crystal, then nodded.
"Registration complete."
She handed them a metal insignia—unfinished, unmarked.
"Your emblem will form over time," she explained.
"Reflecting your guild's actions."
Reeve turned the insignia in his hand.
Blank.
For now.
As they stepped outside, the city noise rushed back in.
Lunareth exhaled.
"That went smoother than expected."
Kaelith glanced behind them.
"Too smooth."
Elaryn crossed her arms.
"Eldmere doesn't ignore new pieces on the board."
Reeve slipped the insignia into his pocket and smiled faintly.
"Good," he said.
"I don't like playing unnoticed."
Above them, unseen—
Eldmere recorded a new variable.
And several interested parties began to watch.