Weylan paced restlessly in his master's office. He had submitted his report the previous day, and Master Jago had gone to investigate the guild masters himself. It was well past time for their lesson to begin, but Jago was uncharacteristically late. This was the first time it had happened, and Weylan couldn't help but worry that something might have gone wrong.

Despite his concern, Weylan hadn't noticed any unusual commotion in the building. The servants were going about their normal routines. However, idleness was not an option; when Jago returned and found him doing nothing, a scolding was inevitable. He picked up a report from the inbox pile and began to read. Just as he dipped the quill into the ink, the door swung open. Weylan's hand instinctively gripped an inconspicuous letter opener that, not coincidentally, was , perfectly balanced as a throwing dagger.

Master Jago stormed past him and dropped into his chair. Without a word, he grabbed a report from the pile and began reading. Weylan waited a few minutes, then coughed softly to get his attention.

Jago sighed, crumpled the report, and tossed it into the waste bin. "The baron is a..." He stopped himself, visibly censoring his words. "The baron disagreed with my assessment that we urgently need to draw a line here. If we give in now, the revenants will keep taking advantage of us until they've polished the tavern counter as smooth as glass."

"What did he do instead?" Weylan asked.

"He paid for everything," Jago replied with another sigh. "A load of hare's clover for an outrageous sum. He also paid out a few other monopolies, claiming the adventurers had earned it through their cunning." He imitated the baron's high-pitched voice: "After all, they should have fun."

Weylan looked at him in dismay. "The revenants will steal the butter from our bread if we let them get away with this."

"That's no longer my decision," Jago said.

The two were silent for a while, thinking. Then Weylan, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, said, "Master Jago, shouldn't we still try to prevent further monopolies?" Before his master could answer, he continued: "Only so that it doesn't become too easy, of course. After all, that would be boring for the revenants. They like a challenge."

Jago stared at him, then a broad grin slowly spread across his face. "That's right... It would be a shame to disappoint our heroes. Let's see what we can do to make it not too easy for them." He reached for a report and began reading, still smiling. Weylan did the same.

A while later, Jago got up and took a folder of documents from a cupboard. He leafed through it, then read one of the documents more carefully. As he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, Weylan walked over and looked past him. "The Seamstress Guild is complaining that someone is selling cheap clothes? What's the problem?"

"The problem is that someone is selling clothes cheaper than the guild, and they're losing revenant business," Jago replied, tapping a spot on the document.

"Is that forbidden?" Weylan asked.

"Only if the quality of the goods is below the prescribed minimum values. Get me a few samples from the store listed here."

Weylan preferred any task to reading more reports, so he ran off immediately. He slowed down at the end of the corridor and turned back. Jago was already grinning as he held out a wallet, which Weylan pocketed wordlessly before dashing off again.

Once he returned, they spread the clothes on the table, which Jago had cleared. Thin linen pants, simple shirts, and woolen cloaks. Jago placed his hand on a shirt and shared the information with his apprentice.

Garment: Linen shirt

Material: Linen fabric

Quality: Journeyman level

Jago weighed his head thoughtfully. "Journeyman quality. Quite adequate. The cut is fine, the material perfectly acceptable." He glanced at the guild regulations. "Everything complies with guild standards. I just can't figure out how they made it so cheaply. They sell it for three silver coins. Normally, it takes at least five silver to make a profit of one."

Weylan hesitated. "What if the dealers stole the material?"

"That was my first thought," Jago said. "But there were no reports of thefts or complaints of merchants being blackmailed. The guild investigated too. A revenant group called 'The Brotherhood' has been buying large quantities of cloth. Volume discounts, but nothing unusual. They can't have reduced the cost that much."

"Where do they produce their goods?" Weylan asked, moving to the city map on the wall.

"Outside the city, in an area the Brotherhood bought. We have no jurisdiction there."

"Can't we just go check it out?" Weylan didn't understand the problem.

"The Brotherhood has forbidden access," Jago explained. "According to the law, they can defend their grounds. It's not illegal to sneak in, but they can legally attack intruders. Two revenant groups took quests to investigate other suspicious events there. Mystery quests."

Weylan whistled, giving no indication he knew about the quest he had initiated. "Many old legends began with unremarkable mystery quests. What did they find out?"

"One group was wiped out, and the other was driven away before investigating further."

"Maybe I should give it a try," Weylan suggested.

Jago shook his head. "I was just at the Adventurers' Guild. The revenants weren’t novices. You shouldn’t approach this area alone."

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Weylan nodded solemnly. "I know. There's still a lot to learn before I can confront dozens of revenants. Normally, I’d ask for more weapons training, but that will have to wait. I have an appointment tonight."

"Something about the bathhouse you've been investing in?" Jago seemed quite satisfied with himself.

Weylan's mind raced. How much did he know? Then he kicked himself mentally. Of course, he realized the steward had been informed of the ownership change. All official paperwork went through his office eventually.

"I know I don’t pay you enough to afford something like that. But a young merchant apprentice matching your description sold some magical moss to the Sewer Guild for quite a sum. I wonder if there is a connection…”

“Well…”

Jago gestured for him to stop. "I know you're working for this mage. Is he a danger to the city?"

“I honestly don’t believe he is, master. He just wants to sell some of his collections and invest the gold. It's like a retirement fund.”

“Then I will ignore him. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. Assassins are supposed to have secrets. It’s good training. We really need to train you in disguise skills. But not now. We have too many other problems. Just remember to inform me if you suspect this mage plans anything that could endanger the citizens or yourself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. See you tomorrow.”

Weylan left and immediately went over to the Adventurers Guild stand at the main spawnpoint.

"Hey Weylan, did your master finally let you out of the dusty study room?" Trulda waved him over.

"Hello! I wasn’t sure you'd be here today. Didn't you say you were scheduled for tomorrow?" Weylan ignored the line of people waiting at the stand.

"Sindri swapped with me because she wanted to attend a lecture at the Mage Academy this afternoon. Something about new quests for noobs they've come up with there. She thought someone from our group should be there so we know what they're planning."

Weylan shrugged: "Probably just more new variations of fetch quests for ingredients. The alchemists are getting pretty desperate. Last week, some wannabe alchemist revenants showed up again, buying up ingredients and equipment everywhere."

"Can you wait a few more minutes? I'm about to close the stand for the day." Some of the revenants already in line groaned in annoyance. One turned around and raised his hands soothingly. "Hey folks, no panic. We've set up a night counter on the side of the guild building. We're closing here, but you can continue asking your questions there." The revenants grumbled as they moved off. Trulda said goodbye to her colleague Indris and joined Weylan.

She slipped her arm under his as they walked past, and the two strolled from the marketplace to the main street, where a colorful mix of revenants and locals were bustling about. "Hey, what do you want to do tonight?"

"The same thing we do every night. Try to take over the world!" Trulda laughed: "You actually remembered that? You've never even seen the series."

"I just like the story. Is there any way you can bring those animated films into our world?"

"No chance. The AI doesn't cooperate with that. No movies, no books, no pictures. Revenants can only memorize things and recreate them here. Even for that, there are a lot of restrictions. You wouldn't believe how annoying Trademark can be."

"Trademark? The demon of intellectual property infringement? I've heard of him. Last week, he supposedly caught a revenant at the spawn point and stripped him down because he showed up with a black mask and a strange black armor. All he was trying to do was walk into town with his severe asthma."

"The Disney franchise is the worst."

"What's a…"

Trulda waved dismissively, grinning: "That's too long a story." She glanced to the side and suddenly squinted her eyes: "Hey, isn't that your friend Dorm?" Weylan spun around. He looked around briefly, then spotted his old friend shuffling along the street's edge with his head down.

Weylan pushed through the passersby on the main street. "Hey, you old toad-kisser!"

Dorm lifted his head tiredly, then his face lit up with life: "Weylan! You're alive!"

"Of course. Weeds never die. How are the others?"

"Long story. All the able and willing to fight stayed in the village, the rest are scattered around the city."

Weylan took a closer look at his friend. The dark circles under his eyes, the hunched posture, the calluses on his hands: "Dorm, don't be offended, but you look like a deathly ill sheep in need to be put out of its misery."

Dorm glanced around and stepped closer to Weylan. He lowered his voice: "Can we talk about this somewhere… less public?"

Weylan also looked around but saw no one unusual. Trulda grabbed both of them and steered them toward an inn in a side alley she knew well. There, she found a table in the back where they couldn't be seen from the entrance. As they passed, she greeted the innkeeper by name and ordered three light beers. Dorm nearly downed his beer in one go and leaned back. Then he began to speak: "I've had a really tough time in the city. First, I couldn't find decent work, then, like many refugees from our village, I signed a really good-looking contract with the Brotherhood."

Trulda snorted derisively: "Brotherhood? Which one? That's not exactly an original name for an organization."

"No idea. I never asked."

Weylan interrupted: "It doesn't matter what they're called. I want to know why you look like you've been working in the dwarven mines for a year."

"That's a…"

"If you try to give me the 'it's a long story' excuse, I'll kick you in the balls."

"All right!" Dorm took a deep breath, then spoke so quickly that they could barely keep up: "We came to the city. I had no work. The Brotherhood offered a job contract, and like most of us, I signed it. At first, everything was fine. Well, the work was crappy, but you can handle eight hours of scraping hides or sawing walnuts. The food was plentiful and pretty good. But that's where they tricked us…" He fell silent, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He grimaced as if in agony.

Weylan looked at him confused, then groaned: "You're not allowed to talk about the contract terms?"

Dorm nodded.

"And you signed a contract with the World Voice as a witness? Otherwise, this wouldn't work."

Dorm nodded again.

"Seriously? Didn't we grow up with the same horror stories? This never ends well."

Dorm shrugged painfully.

Trulda nudged Weylan in the side. "Your friend seems to have enough problems already. Let's look for a solution instead. Contracts with the World Voice have to be fair. So, there must be a way to terminate it. Dorm, what do you need to get out?"

"Over 17 gold pieces. I know you can't help me with that. I'll be free in a few months anyway. Don't worry."

Weylan didn't have to think about what to do. He took out his coin pouch and counted out 18 gold pieces on the table. "Here, buy your freedom, get yourself a new shirt and pants, and come by Trulda at the Adventurers' Guild stand. She'll find you a decent job." He turned to her questioningly: "Right?"

She nodded. "Of course. No problem. If nothing else opens up, we're always looking for runners for the guild."

Dorm looked from one to the other in disbelief. He glanced around to ensure their conversation wasn't being overheard. Then he leaned closer to Weylan: "Have you already started a thieves' guild in such a short time?"

Weylan laughed heartily: "No, not yet. I work for the baron's steward. It pays quite well." He glanced at his now nearly empty coin pouch and winced involuntarily. "Though I'll have to be quite frugal for the next week. But it doesn't matter. The main thing is we get you out of this debt slavery."

The two embraced, and Weylan could feel Dorm trembling slightly. Too much tension being released. He sighed. What should he tell Dorm now? Probably not much. His friend was loyal and admittedly more honest than he was. But he was also a terrible gossip and couldn't keep anything to himself. He'd have to keep him away from his secrets. But it would still be fun to reunite with his friend. If he had the time. Well, he'd make the time.