As they walked, Cliff stole glances at the creatures held below in glass enclosures; panther-like beasts that paced in confined spaces, their eyes clouded with exhaustion. Birds with brilliant silver feathers sat with drooped wings, stripped of the light and energy that magical creatures in the wild naturally possessed. He looked away quickly, his grip tightening behind his back as he forced himself to stay composed.

The hallway stretched out before Cliff like a tunnel of barely concealed horrors, its polished marble floor reflecting the cold light from rows of sleek glass display cases. Each case contained shimmering crystals, rare herbs, and preserved body parts, neatly labeled and meticulously arranged. They gleamed like trophies, each one a testament to the guild’s power, and each carrying a price he couldn’t ignore. Cliff forced himself to keep his expression composed, but his hands balled into fists behind his back, his disgust held in check only by the knowledge that his friends were waiting for his signal.

Marshal led him toward a large, arched window that overlooked the guild’s workshop floor, the glass polished to a reflective shine. “Here we are, Cliff,” he announced, pride infusing his voice as he gestured with an expansive sweep. Below, Cliff’s gaze was drawn to rows of cages arranged in orderly lines, each housing a creature more pitiful than the last. Panthers with sleek, shadowed pelts lay curled up, listless and motionless, their once-bright eyes dulled to a glassy haze. Birds with shimmering, silver-tipped feathers stood on weak legs, their wings drooping, clipped and robbed of the freedom they once knew.

Marshal cleared his throat, snapping Cliff’s attention back to the present. His voice dropped to a tone he likely thought was comforting. “I know you’re uncomfortable with this,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the creatures below as if discussing fine wine. “But think about what’s at stake here. Adventurers depend on us. Without the resources we provide, they’d be defenseless. We’re the reason the empire stands strong.”

Cliff held his expression steady, nodding as though considering Marshal’s words. But in the pit of his stomach, anger churned, hot and barely restrained. “And to save lives, you believe these creatures are… expendable?”

A sharp, clipped voice cut in from beside him. “Think of it as a necessary sacrifice,” the guild’s operations director chimed in, a woman with eyes as cold and unyielding as the crystals she guarded. She looked at Cliff as if he were a naive child. “Without these beasts, our materials would be scarce, our defenses weak. A few creatures for the greater good. It’s logical.”

Cliff swallowed, forcing down the words that rose to his lips. Logical? He thought of Elara, who would sooner take an injury herself than see a creature harmed, and of Dawnclaws, whose very feathers bristled at the sight of cages. But he knew he had to play the game, at least for a few moments longer. He feigned consideration, his voice calm but probing. “You’re saying this suffering is necessary. But isn’t there a way to harvest sustainably? Without… draining the forests of life?”

Marshal chuckled, leaning closer with an air of indulgence, as if humoring a child. “Sustainability is a nice idea, Cliff. But it’s just not practical. Not on the scale we’re talking about. You’d understand if you joined us fully. Think of it. Being part of something bigger, something meaningful.” He leaned back, his smile growing wider. “We’re giving you a chance to elevate yourself.”

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Cliff felt his jaw tighten, a flicker of fire igniting in his chest as he clenched his fists behind his back. Goodness, these merchants aren’t even trying to lie, anymore. Outside, he knew Neil, Elara, and Dawnclaws would be circling the guild’s eastern perimeter, waiting for the moment to set the creatures free. He just needed to hold their attention for a little longer. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to ask, “And if I were to join this… operation,” he said, keeping his tone mild, “what would that mean for my shop? For my current partners? The beastmasters who trust me?”

The lanky man standing beside Marshal gave him a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “It means respect, Cliff. Protection, profit. You’d be the face of ethical trade while we handle the, let’s say, more practical details.” He shrugged, a sneer tugging at his lips. “You get to keep your reputation squeaky clean. We get the resources we need. Everybody wins.”

The words tasted like bile, and Cliff forced himself to keep his tone steady, nodding as though weighing the offer. But with each passing second, he felt his patience wear thinner. His friends were risking everything outside, and here he was, standing among people who valued life only for its utility.

Finally, he shook his head, his voice steady but edged with steel. “No,” he said, each word carefully measured. “I can’t support this. Not when I’ve seen what your methods cause.”

The smile on Marshal’s face faded, replaced by a hardness that spread across his features like stone. He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to Cliff, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You’re making a mistake, Cliff. Refusing us won’t go unnoticed.”

Beside him, the woman leaned in, her sneer sharp and venomous. “We could ruin you,” she said softly, the threat rolling off her tongue like honeyed poison. “You’ll lose your shop, your partners, your precious beastmasters. Everything you’ve built. Gone in an instant.”

The words hung in the air, thick with menace, and Cliff felt their weight settle over him like a heavy cloak. But in that moment, he thought of Elara’s gentle hands tending to wounded animals, of Neil’s steadfast loyalty, of Dawnclaws’ fierce protection of life. He felt the strength of those bonds, and he knew he couldn’t betray them. Not for any price.

“If standing up for them means losing everything I have, then so be it,” he said, his voice resolute. “But I’ll hold to my values over any profit you could offer.”

The air crackled with tension as a deadly silence filled the space. Marshal’s expression darkened, his mouth twisting into a scowl. But before he could respond, a distant shout echoed down the hallway, sharp and urgent. Cliff’s heart leapt, a faint thrill of victory flickering through him.

Marshal stiffened, his eyes narrowing. The faint sounds of commotion were growing louder, unmistakable now—calls, shouts, and the clanging of metal as guards scrambled into action. Cliff couldn’t stop the faint smile that crept onto his face as he met Marshal’s furious gaze.

“Looks like your operation’s sprung a few leaks,” he remarked, letting the satisfaction slip into his tone.

Marshal’s face contorted with rage, his voice a furious hiss. “You’ll pay for this, Cliff. Mark my words.”

But Cliff was already backing away, his heart hammering in his chest as he heard the growing sounds of animals crying out, their voices ringing with freedom. He didn’t need to see the chaos unfolding outside; he knew his friends were out there, working together to save the creatures they had fought so hard to protect. And he had no intention of backing down. Not now. Not ever.