The guard returned sooner than I expected. He had a smug look on his face, one that seemed to say he was enjoying this a little too much.

“Well, you’re in luck, rat boy.” he said, twirling the envelope in his hand before tucking it into his belt.

“They’re willing to let you in, though I gotta say, it’s been a while since someone’s been dumb enough to gamble their life for this request. Guess they’re willing to entertain themselves today.”

I shot him a look, but didn’t say anything. No point in getting riled up over his sarcasm.

I knew what I was here for, and I wasn't about to let some glorified doorman ruin that.

"Follow me." he added with a wave, turning his back and heading through the massive doors.

I followed him inside, the steel doors closing behind me with a deep, resonating thud.

The entrance hall was just as imposing as the outside—dark, cold, and filled with steel accents that reflected the family’s iron grip. It felt more like stepping into a fortress than a guild hall.

As we walked down the wide corridor, the guard continued his commentary. "You know, most people who try this end up regretting it. But hey, who am I to judge? Some folks just like playing with fire."

I kept my eyes forward, ignoring his attempts to get under my skin.

As I followed the guard through the guild's main hall, I immediately noticed the people around me.

The corridor wasn’t empty, it was filled with members of the Steelheart family. All of them, their eyes flicking over me with curious glances.

They all had the same silver hair, varying shades of it, but unmistakably part of the same lineage.

Their sharp features, the strong brows, the squared jaws—it was like looking at different versions of the same person. They were practically cut from the same steel mold.

Every now and then, one would glance my way, their expression curious.

After all, it wasn’t every day that an outsider walked these halls, and certainly not one from the slums.

I kept my head down, trying not to let their stares bother me.

We passed several large chambers along the way, their doors slightly ajar, offering glimpses of well-furnished rooms filled with papers, maps, and weapons.

Some rooms were bustling with activity, members discussing guild matters, others were more quiet, private. But we didn’t stop at any of them.

he guard led me past every chamber, every side door, without hesitation.

I knew where we were going.

The further we walked, the more familiar the route became. I’d travelled in those corridors with my Bloodzerker to know that we were heading toward the heart of it all—the patriarch’s office chamber.

The place where all decisions were made, where power was absolute.

This wasn’t just some casual request I had taken on. I was about to walk straight into the lion’s den

As we approached the largest door in this place the guard stopped and turned to me.

“You’re gonna want to pick which limb to part with.” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Personally, I’d say go for the left hand. Least important. You can still survive that."

With another laugh, he knocked on the door and left me standing there, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

“Enter,” a deep voice called from inside.

I pushed the door open and stepped into a lavishly decorated office. The room was large, with dark wooden paneling and high ceilings.

To my left, there was a luxurious brown leather couch, where three elderly men sat, casually sipping tea and nibbling on snacks from a meticulously crafted table.

The first man was bald, with a long silver beard that almost reached his chest. His sharp eyes followed my every movement as if sizing me up.

The second man had long, slicked-back silver hair, his face clean-shaven and his expression unreadable.

The third one, however, stood out. He had thinning hair, with a few silver strands left, but his most striking feature was the jagged scar running down from his temple to his chin.

His eyes were slightly milky, giving the impression of age, but the intensity behind them was still sharp.

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Despite their wrinkled faces and obvious signs of age, I could tell these men were not to be underestimated. Their air of authority was palpable, as though they'd seen more battles than anyone could count.

But it wasn’t them that drew most of my attention.

At the far end of the room, behind a massive mahogany desk, sat the patriarch of the Steelheart family. His very presence commanded the room.

His silver hair was short, neatly trimmed, but unlike the others, his physique was imposing. Broad-shouldered and muscular, even in his older age, he seemed like a man who had never let himself weaken.

His face, however, was cold and severe. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and steel-gray eyes that could probably see right through a person.

He had the look of a man who ruled without hesitation, who had no patience for failure.

As soon as I entered the room, the elders exchanged glances and muttered amongst themselves.

“Well, well, look at our guest.” the bald one said, his silver beard twitching as he sneered. “Not exactly dressed for the occasion, is he?”

Before I could respond, the elder with slicked-back silver hair raised a hand, mockingly. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty in our judgment. Appearances aren’t everything, after all.” He then turned his gaze to me, smiling with an air of false politeness.

“Young man, why don’t you come and join us? Please, take a seat.”

He gestured toward a lone chair across from them, smaller than the luxurious couch they occupied, clearly designed to make its occupant feel isolated and on display.

I nodded, stepping forward carefully, trying to mask my unease. "Excuse my intrusion," I said, my voice steady, but my mind racing.

'Huh?' As I crossed the threshold of the door, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention.

My eyes darted to the far left corner, where a cage was perched on a table. But inside wasn’t a bird as one might expect.

It was something far different.

Laying inside the cage, curled up in a sleeping posture, was a gnome.

I froze for a brief second, my mind spinning as I recognized the figure.

It wasn’t Lila, but it was definitely another of her kind.

Then, as if the lure of the reward had clouded my thoughts, it hit me—how could I have almost forgotten? Somewhere within this very building, one of Lila's family members was being held captive.

I quickly composed myself and continued toward the chair, but the sight of that caged gnome lingered in my mind.

As I sat down, one of the elders leaned forward with a polite smile, offering me a cup of tea and some biscuits. I waved it off kindly, declining the gesture.

"Tell me, boy," one of the elders said, his voice low and gravelly, "why would you risk your life over a gamble like this?"

Without hesitation, I met his gaze and replied, "This isn’t a gamble. It’s a guaranteed reward."

The room went silent. The elders exchanged puzzled glances, and the one who had offered me tea raised an eyebrow.

"You honestly believe you know the code to unlock the pouch?" another elder asked, disbelief lacing his words.

"We haven’t been able to crack it in a century, and you, a slum rat, think you’ve figured it out?"

"Yes," I responded firmly, my voice steady.

That simple, confident 'yes' seemed to cut through the air like a blade.

One of the elders, the bald man with a silver beard, slammed his fist on the armrest, glaring at me.

"How dare you!" he growled, his voice seething with anger. "Do you think you're better than the greatest minds of this family? Do you think you can waltz in here, throw out baseless claims, and insult us like this?"

The tension in the room spiked as if my confidence had somehow wounded their pride.

As if to twist the knife deeper, I replied with another calm, confident, “Yes.”

The bald man’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, his pride clearly wounded by my audacity.

Looking like he was seconds away from lashing out at me. His lips quivered, his anger palpable.

But before he could react, the patriarch finally stepped in, his voice cutting through the room like ice. “Enough.”

The bald man stopped mid-motion under the weight of the patriarch’s command.

The patriarch, calm yet commanding, didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

His very presence demanded respect, and even the most hot-headed elder knew better than to push further.

“Bring out the pouch.” he ordered, directing his words to someone waiting in the shadows of the room.

A figure I hadn’t noticed before, standing quietly in the corner, moved toward a cabinet hidden in the dim light.

They unlocked it with a practiced hand and, moments later, produced the very object I had been waiting for: Valerian’s pouch.

The pouch was carried over to the patriarch’s desk and laid down in front of him.

“Let’s see if your confidence is truly justified.” the patriarch said, his eyes locking with mine.

This was my cue. But before I reached for it, I raised my hand and interjected.

“Hold on. I’m not willing to try unlocking this pouch until we revise the reward being offered.”

The room erupted.

“What?!” one of the elders barked, nearly spitting his tea. “You dare make demands in our hall?”

The bald elder who had already been fuming slammed his hand on the arm of his chair, his face a mask of indignation. “You insolent rat! You come here, a nobody, and now you try to bargain with us?!”

The third elder’s eyes narrowed in disbelief, his lips curling into a sneer. “You must think highly of yourself to make such demands, boy!”

Their words came at me like daggers, filled with anger, shock, and resentment. But I stood firm. I expected this.

"I’m not interested in what you think I deserve from your vaults,” I continued, holding my ground. “I want something else.”

The patriarch remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as the room simmered with outrage. Then he raised his hand, and the other elders immediately fell quiet.

“You wish to negotiate.” he said, slowly. “And what is it you want, then?”

My initial choice was to request one item from the unlocked pouch, the one that had held such value.

But standing there, the weight of the room pressing down on me, my decision began to waver.

I glanced down at my bag, my heart tightening.

The thought of Lila, hidden away, anxious and waiting, tugged at me.

I let out a quiet sigh and lifted my head.

I looked directly at the patriarch, steadying myself. Without a word, I raised my hand and pointed towards the corner of the room.

A murmur swept through the elders. All eyes followed the direction of my finger, locking onto the cage in the corner—the cage with the gnome inside.

The moment they realized what I was pointing at, the room’s atmosphere shifted.

The elders’ expressions twisted into a mix of shock and fury, their disdain palpable.

The bald elder, the one most riled up, clenched his fists. “You insolent little—”

But before he could finish, the patriarch’s calm voice cut through the tension. “The gnome?” His words were almost a whisper, but they carried weight. He looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if trying to gauge whether I truly meant what I was asking for.

I met his gaze head-on and answered, firm and clear.

“Yes.”