Arelos strolled through the city streets, his thoughts revolving around the recent changes in his life. He'd been surprised when Mikos and Gavric approached him after noticing his essay—an exercise he'd completed without much thought, more as a reflection of his own observations than an intentional display. Their interest had led to a lengthy discussion, where they scrutinized his insights on various scenarios, testing his mental acumen and logical reasoning. Impressed by his performance, Mikos had made an unexpected offer: work as an analyst for the guild.

Initially, Arelos had been hesitant. The notion of leaving his friends for part of each day weighed heavily on him. But the promise of real-world experience, coupled with an actual wage, gradually swayed him. Mikos assured him that his analytical mind would flourish in such an environment and that the role would challenge his intellect in ways only a true scholar could appreciate.

Arelos soon found himself increasingly engrossed in the guild's internal operations. Initially, his age and inexperience were points of contention among the more seasoned analysts, who were wary of his capabilities. Consequently, they delegated him to the seemingly mundane task of managing the backlog of copied reports from various guild chapters scattered across the kingdom.

These reports were part of the guild's data redundancy protocol, where local chapters across the kingdom deemed some information critical and sent it to various other chapters for safekeeping. Unfortunately, what was crucial for one location rarely held relevance elsewhere, leading to a growing backlog of documents which none of the analysts had the time or inclination to sort through.

At first, the work seemed monotonous, hardly the intellectual challenge Mikos had promised. Arelos spent his days categorizing the reports, which ranged from trivial local gossip to significant political shifts in the capital and beyond. Despite the tedium, he approached the task diligently, managing to unearth occasional gems of information that caught his interest.

Over time, Arelos’ meticulous approach drew the attention of his colleagues, particularly an analyst named Endric. Unlike the others, Endric saw potential in Arelos’ ability to sift through the inconsequential to find snippets of genuine importance. He began to include Arelos in more engaging tasks, allowing him a glimpse into the analytical work that truly mattered to the guild. These responsibilities not only stimulated Arelos’ mind but also provided an opportunity to prove his worth beyond menial sorting.

Since then, Arelos had learned more about the internal workings of the guild in a few days than he had through several years of whispered rumors. While the stories had painted them as shadowy power brokers, the reality was far more complex—it turned out they operated much like a merchant guild. Their expansive network charted suppliers, distribution chains, and pricing trends with startling precision—an operation that was far more legitimate than he had imagined.

Markets, as Arelos quickly discovered, were influenced by countless factors, ranging from political intrigues to shifting alliances that could disrupt production or trade routes. The guild thrived on understanding how these factors intertwined, leveraging their knowledge to predict or even manipulate market prices. Information, he realized, was valuable only when it could be wielded effectively, and the guild’s mastery lay in their ability to weave together data from across their many chapters throughout the three kingdoms.

What truly set them apart from a typical merchant guild was not just the scale and precision of their information network but also the lengths they were willing to go to obtain it—and the ways they were prepared to use it. Blackmail, coercion, and manipulation were tools in their arsenal, employed when partnerships or subtle influence fell short.

More often than not, however, the guild would use their information to forge alliances with other merchant guilds or influential families, presenting themselves as indispensable allies. These partnerships served as a façade of legitimacy, masking the darker methods the guild employed to secure its dominance in the markets.

Arelos felt a familiar comfort in the quiet streets that led to the unassuming villa. At a glance, it was nothing special, blending in perfectly with the quiet residential neighborhood. He hesitated briefly in front of the wooden door, steeling himself for the day's work before knocking. After a moment, it creaked open, revealing a middle-aged guard with a weary but friendly demeanor.

"Mornin', lad," the guard greeted, his voice carrying the faint remnants of a long night. The smell of stale ale lingered about him. "Come on in. Pretty sure there's still some tea left in the kettle."

Arelos offered a nod of thanks, stepping inside the cool interior of the villa. The welcome scent of brewing tea greeted him, mingling with the faint aroma of paper and ink that pervaded the space. As he wandered into the kitchen, he found Endric, a senior analyst, already immersed in a pile of documents.

"Morning, Arelos," Endric greeted, not bothering to look up from his work. His hand remained wrapped around a cup of tea, and his concentration was evident.

Arelos set about preparing his own cup, enjoying the brief ritual. "Anything exciting happen overnight?" he asked, keeping his voice casual.

Endric finally raised his gaze from the pages, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The marriage is finalized. The Crown Princess and the Carolian heir—it went official last night."

Arelos paused, stirring his tea thoughtfully. "That's sooner than expected," he remarked, mulling over the political implications. "I'd have thought the Carolians might give the dukes more time to adjust, ease into it slowly."

Endric chuckled, leaning back in his chair, finally giving Arelos his full attention. "You'd think so, but patience isn't really their strong suit. Ambition seems to run in their blood."

Arelos agreed with a nod, sipping his tea. The political maneuverings of the Carolian family never ceased to intrigue him. "The patriarch likes to keep everyone on their toes," he mused. "Wonder if they'll manage to pull everyone in line."

Endric shrugged, setting his cup down. "That remains to be seen. Their tactics are bold, but whether they can sustain it... that's another matter."

The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment, savoring their tea. Though much of the guild's work was driven by information gathering, these small snippets of conversation often proved as enlightening as the reports themselves.

"Anything else come through last night?" Arelos asked, glancing at the stacks of paper in front of Endric.

"More of the same," Endric replied with a hint of boredom. "A slew of reports—some urgent, some trivial. The usual backlog you've got to sift through."

Arelos nodded, unphased by the task awaiting him. "Seems it's going to be another packed day," he accepted with dry humor.

Endric offered an understanding smile. "Same for me, I suppose," he replied, looking at his own workload. "If anything interesting crosses my desk, you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks, Endric. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop," Arelos returned, the sincerity in his words evident.

Arelos left Endric to his work in the kitchen and made his way to the office where unprocessed reports awaited him. The room was silent, filled only with the faint rustle of paper as he settled into the chair at the desk. He placed his mug aside, the contents still steaming faintly, and began the methodical task of sorting through the reports.

For each report, Arelos followed a careful process. He recorded its identifier—a string of letters and numbers linking it to the original counterpart—along with its origin and retrieval location in the archive. As he logged the details, he also crafted a single-line summary to capture the report's content, regardless of whether it was trivial gossip or a hint of broader changes unfolding across the kingdom.

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As he immersed himself in the task, time slipped by unnoticed. Arelos worked with a rhythm born from familiarity, carefully bundling processed reports together and securing them with twine. Once a container was full, he placed the reports inside a sturdy wooden box, satisfied with the result.

With the box in hand, Arelos headed for the basement archive. The staircase was narrow and steep, the air growing cooler with each step, carrying the scent of old parchment and wood. Placing the box among the countless others in the archive, he took a moment to survey the rows of neatly labeled shelves before heading back up the dimly lit staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Arelos found Endric waiting, his expression calm but expectant. With a quick gesture, Endric motioned for him to follow. "Come with me," he said, a spark of excitement in his voice. "Something interesting just came by."

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"What’s so interesting?" Arelos asked, falling into step beside him.

"We’ve got a live debrief," Endric replied.

"A live debrief?" Arelos echoed, his brow twitching slightly.

"That’s right," Endric said, leading the way down the corridor. "One of our operators just returned. He’s filing his report. I figured it’d be worth your time to watch how these things go."

Arelos said nothing, but his pace quickened just a bit.

The meeting room was small, the air heavy with tension. Two analysts sat waiting, their expressions tight with impatience. Across from them was the operator, relaxed but with an edge to his presence, his sharp gaze flicking toward the newcomers.

"Took you long enough," one of the analysts said, casting a doubtful glance at Arelos. "Was it necessary to bring the kid along?"

Arelos lingered for a moment, taking in the scene, before quietly settling into a chair beside Endric.

Endric smiled slightly, adjusting his position in the chair. "It'll do him good to see how these sessions unfold," he replied, nodding at Arelos.

The operator raised an eyebrow at Arelos. "So we running out of brainy types and recruiting kids now?"

Endric chuckled and turned to Arelos. "This is Thoros," he said with a nod toward the man. Then, looking back at Thoros, he added, "And this is Arelos. Trust me, if we had more like him, we'd count ourselves lucky."

Thoros shrugged. "Whatever, let's get this over with. Haven't had a wink of sleep in over two days," he said with a yawn.

Endric nodded, signaling for Thoros to begin his report.

Thoros leaned back in his chair, recounting his recent observations. "I've had my eye on one of the key players in the Hollow Hand," he started, the fatigue evident in his voice. "This guy, usually pretty predictable in his movements, started acting differently last night."

Endric leaned forward slightly. "What was different about it?" he asked, pen ready to take notes.

"He didn't meet up with his usual cronies for a quick drink or a roughshod collection run. Instead, he was joined by some new faces. Big, serious types—looked like muscle-for-hire," Thoros went on, his tone thoughtful. "That told me right away—this wasn't just the usual business."

Endric tapped the end of his quill against the parchment. "How many were they exactly?"

"They were five men in total," Thoros answered.

Endric made a quick note, then looked up. "Go on," he urged.

Thoros leaned forward slightly. "I followed them to a secluded courtyard outside the burrows. It was the kind of place that's dead quiet at night—the kind of quiet where you start second-guessing if you're really alone."

Arelos listened intently, his mind visualizing the scene—a tense, shadowy gathering in the darkness.

"From my vantage point," Thoros continued, "I saw them fan out, creating a secure perimeter. Whatever they were planning, they didn't want any interruptions."

Thoros glanced around, ensuring he had the full attention of his audience. "I didn’t have to wait long," he said, his tone slightly ominous, "before a strange group of four men arrived."

"Any of them familiar?" One of the analysts pressed.

Thoros shook his head. "No recognizable faces, but they stood out." He paused for a beat. "Foreigners."

Endric raised an eyebrow. "Foreigners? You mean from Vorum or Dastara, or somewhere even beyond the fractured empire?

Thoros leaned back, his expression serious. "Beyond. Features unlike anything you'd see in the three kingdoms, and wore garbs unfamiliar—strange get-ups," he elaborated.

Endric made another note. "Alright, what happened next?"

"So this is where it gets really interesting," Thoros said, his eyes scanning the room to make sure he had their undivided attention. "One of those foreigners pulled out a vial of body serum."

Endric raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into his tone. "And you're certain it was a body serum?"

Thoros opened his coat to reveal a belt with several vials of red liquid strapped to it. "I know a body serum when I see one," he replied confidently. "I've been around them long enough to spot fifty paces off."

"Looks can be deceiving—it could've been any kind of red concoction," Endric said, clearly not convinced.

Thoros chuckled, shaking his head. "It wasn't just the look," he insisted. "It's what follows that really matters."

"We know the Hollow Hand has some dealings in serums," one of the analysts chimed in dismissively. "Unless you know where they're sourcing it from, I don't see the urgency in dragging us in here. Their serums are poor competition at best."

Frustration flashed across Thoros's features. "This isn't on par with what they've been peddling up until now," he shot back.

"And what makes this any different?" the analyst pressed. "Their product is a cheap imitation of ours at best—doesn't even last a full minute."

Thoros took a calming breath before speaking, struggling to curtail his annoyance. "If you let me finish, you'll understand why this is nothing like their usual garbage."

Endric intervened, raising a hand to halt the budding argument. "Go on, Thoros," he encouraged.

"So this guy takes the vial and chugs it down," Thoros said, trying to keep a lid on his growing irritation. "And believe me, that was no ordinary serum."

Thoros paused, scanning the group as if expecting another interruption. When none came, he continued, "The man turned into a powerhouse. He moved so quickly around the courtyard that I'd wager he could outrun a horse, and then he just—" He hesitated, seemingly searching for the right words. "Walked up to the building and, with a single leap, cleared the roof with ease."

"What's that, twenty feet?" Endric asked, incredulous.

"That building is at least thirty feet tall," Thoros corrected.

One of the analysts scoffed, shaking his head. "Impossible! That would be more than double what our serum users could manage on a good day, and our product is unmatched even by the crown's alchemists. Surely you're mistaken?"

Thoros shot the man a flat look. "I know what I saw."

Endric turned back to Thoros. "And the duration?"

Thoros exhaled. "When I decided it was wise to bail," he admitted, "it had been knocking on half an hour since the serum hit. Didn’t seem to be fading."

A sharp intake of breath followed from one of the analysts. The scratching of Endric’s quill against parchment ceased.

Endric shook his head, disbelief evident in his tone. "That’s three times the usual limit… maybe more." He glanced around the room before adding, "An increase in effect is one thing—but sustaining it for that long? That changes everything."

Thoros nodded. "Precisely. Seems like someone is stepping up their game."

A long silence followed. The tension in the room was thick, thoughts turning behind measured expressions. Endric’s fingers drummed lightly against the table, his mind working through the implications.

"If this report holds up," he said finally, "then we're looking at more than just an improvement in serum potency. This kind of enhancement doesn't happen by accident." He exhaled, eyes narrowing. "And if it can be produced at scale? Cheaply? This won't just affect our operations—it could potentially shift the balance of power entirely."

One of the analysts leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "What’s the Hollow Hand even hoping to do with it?" he asked, skepticism laced in his tone. "They don’t have the network to distribute something like this."

Arelos, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, finally spoke. "What if they’re not trying to distribute it?"

Endric turned to him. "Elaborate."

Arelos shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Like he said, they don’t have the network, and even if they did, we don’t know if they can source enough of it to shift the focus of their operations in this direction." He let the thought settle before adding, "If it’s not about profit, then it’s about power."

Endric’s gaze sharpened. "You’re saying they’re preparing for something?"

Arelos gave a slow nod. "It would fit with their recent actions."

Another silence fell over the group, this one heavier than the last. No one spoke, but the weight of the realization hung between them.

Endric exhaled, rubbing his thumb against the edge of the parchment before looking back to Thoros. "You’re absolutely certain of what you saw?"

Thoros didn’t hesitate. "No mistake."

Endric nodded once, then slid the parchment toward one of the analysts. "Finish up the report. I’ll be heading to Faros immediately."

The analyst frowned but took the parchment. "You sure we want to bring this to the Warden already? What if Thoros is wrong?"

Endric’s expression remained firm. "If he's not, then this is not something we can just sit on."

The analyst held his gaze for a moment before sighing, conceding with a nod.

Endric pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. His gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment as if weighing his next move. Then, with a slight nod to himself, he turned his eyes on Arelos. "You’re coming with me."