The stone walls of the Empire rose from the ground like giant cliffs, cutting off the sky from the earth. Above them fluttered banners—black, with a red dragon, the symbol of the Emperor. The city was alive even before they entered—the sounds of anvils, the cries of merchants, the echo of hundreds of footsteps mingling with the distant roar of war machines.
Valdor stopped, raising his head. For him, who remembered the world before the fall of the dragons, these walls were a testament not only to the power of the Empire, but also to slavery. Mayuri also looked up, but there was a coldness in her eyes. Her bond with the shadow made her feel every spell embedded in the structures of the walls, every runic circle — nothing here was "natural."
Arwen shifted uneasily, her wolf senses detecting the scent of hundreds of people and smoke. Kael adjusted his cloak, covering his bandaged side. Noah smiled broadly, though there was more defiance than joy in his smile.
— A beautiful place to burn, — he muttered, squinting.
— Not today, — Valdor replied calmly, glancing toward the gate.
A guard stood before them—a tall man in heavy armor, with a sword at his waist and a halberd resting on his shoulder. He stopped them with a wave of his hand.
— Halt! — His voice was sharp, but he did not shout. — Where are you headed?
Valdor stepped forward. — We are a team of adventurers. We have come to register with the guild.
The guard narrowed his eyes, scanning their figures. He paused on Noah, whose hands sparkled with the remnants of fire, then on Arwen, whose wolfish instincts were almost palpable.
— You don't look like ordinary travelers, — he said. — Documents?
Mayuri stepped forward slightly, handing over the rolled-up parchment they had received from the last village. It was a letter of recommendation, albeit a very modest one, merely confirming that they were not bandits. The guard unrolled it and read it for a long time, too long, as if looking for an excuse. Finally, he cleared his throat.
— Guild registration? — he asked again, making sure.
— Yes, — Valdor confirmed.
— In that case... come in. But I warn you, — the guard stared straight at Valdor. — The capital does not forgive lies.
The iron door opened heavily, and the team crossed the threshold.
The world changed instantly. They were struck by noise — the roar of the crowds, the music of the minstrels, the cries of the merchants, the clatter of horses' hooves, the clanking of carts. The streets stretched wide, cobbled, full of colorful stalls. It smelled of roasted meat, fresh bread, wine... and blood from the nearby arena.
— Hah... — Noah looked around, stretching his arms wide. — Finally, a place where something is happening.
— Where every step is watched by the Empire, — Mayuri corrected him, glancing coolly at the watchtowers.
Kael walked more slowly, his gaze wandering over the stone facades. He saw things that the others didn't — the defense system, places to hide, places to attack. That was how his soldier's mind worked.
Arwen sensed the crowd like animals in the forest — every breath, every glance. Some of the people passing by stopped for a moment, eyeing the team. They were strangers here, and it was all too obvious.
—Let them stare, — she muttered under her breath. — At least they know we're not just anyone.
A building that could not be mistaken stood before them. The Adventurers' Guild. A tall building with a coat of arms — a sword and a feather crossed against a runic circle. Stairs led up to a heavy door, and dozens of people milled around: adventurers, merchants, peasants, and even a few mercenaries in imperial colors.
— Well then... let's get to work, — Valdor said.
When they entered, the Guild resembled a marketplace more than an institution. Inside, there was a lot of noise: laughter, the clinking of mugs, the clatter of coins on the counters. A huge bulletin board covered the entire wall — full of orders, task sheets, and notes about rewards for monsters.
Behind the counter sat a receptionist — a young woman with a sharp gaze, dressed in an elegant uniform. A line of adventurers had formed in front of her, loudly boasting about their achievements.
The team joined the line. Noah sighed.
— This looks more like a tavern than a guild.
— That means it's thriving, — Mayuri replied, squinting.
When it was their turn, the receptionist looked up.
— Registration? — she asked in a tone that sounded routine.
— Yes, — replied Valdor.
The woman nodded, took out a book and a pen.
— Team name?
There was silence. Kael looked at Valdor, Arwen at Mayuri, Noah smiled maliciously.
— We don't have one yet, — Valdor admitted.
— In that case, I'll register you as Team No. 15. You can change the name later. — The receptionist scribbled a few characters, then looked up. — First registration means lowest rank. No exceptions.
— Lowest? — Noah snorted. — So what, we'll be cleaning stables?
— If necessary, — the woman replied coldly. — Iron rank. It's the beginning for everyone.
Medallions appeared on the tabletop—simple iron discs bearing the guild symbol. The team looked at them, then at each other. Valdor reached out first, clasping his hand around a medallion.
— Every beginning is difficult. But this is the step we need to take.
Mayuri nodded slightly and took hers. Arwen clenched the medallion so tightly that her claws almost scratched it. Kael smiled half-heartedly, and Noah shrugged.
— Iron or not... we're still going to make more noise than the rest of this crowd.
The team left the counter, each with a medallion in their hand. They now stood in the middle of the bustling guild, among dozens of other seekers.
The first step had been taken.
Although they were only "iron," although they were just beginning their official journey in the guild, each of them knew that it was not their rank that would define them.
Valdor looked at his companions.
— From today, we are adventurers. But our path... is more than just quests. It is a war for the future.
Mayuri smiled subtly, Noah snorted with amusement, Arwen clutched the medallion like a trophy, and Kael just nodded.
Suddenly, the guild doors burst open, slamming against the wall so hard that several goblets on the tables rattled from the shock.
A tall man entered, with long blue hair that flowed freely over his shoulders like a waterfall. His gaze was wild, full of arrogant confidence, and his outfit looked as if it had been torn from civilization — leather, belts, metal elements, but worn with such ease as if he himself were the embodiment of the power of nature.
The rest of the team followed him in. Their silhouettes, armor, and emblems immediately revealed one thing — the highest rank of the guild. Everyone in the room fell silent, even the bard who had been playing in the corner a moment ago stopped his lute and looked toward the entrance.
The adventurers whispered among themselves:
— It's them...
— The highest rank... The Wolf's Blade team...
The atmosphere thickened. Ordinary adventurers, who had been laughing over mugs of beer a moment ago, now looked on with a mixture of respect and envy.
**To be continued in the next chapter...**