Three days after the vault, Gamb'lynn Junior and Master Kaelen stand before the stone-carved doors of the House of Gilain. The guild house is too quiet, all shutters and watchful faces.
Inside, Kaelen keeps close as the relic presses like a secret in her satchel. The nearest dwarf guards track them with narrow eyes, not hostile, just measuring.
At the reception hall, a carved lintel catches the light, a spiral of chisel marks Gamb'lynn remembers from the tavern kitchen wall. The same craft, the same hidden hand.
Kaelen slows. His gaze moves from the guild seals to the spiral, and then to Gamb'lynn's satchel, as if the room itself has started speaking.
Master Kaelen
That mark. I saw its twin in the kitchen passage. This house knows the same builders.
Master Kaelen
So the tavern was never just a tavern. It was a door built into a story older than either of us.
A dwarf clerk emerges from behind a counter of dark oak, one hand extended toward the satchel, the other resting on a brass ledger clasp.
The Clerk
You have something to declare, or something to sell?
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure a buyer for the relic
“"Something to sell," Gamb'lynn declares, putting her satchel on the counter.”
FAILURE (Good Reasoning, rolled -1)
Gamb'lynn Junior
Something to sell.
Gamb'lynn Junior sets the satchel on the counter. The leather makes a soft thud, but her fingers leave it a heartbeat too soon.
The Clerk
Then let me see what sort of goods you are risking your name for.
The clerk does not reach for the bag right away. Their gaze flicks to Kaelen, then to the guild seals, then back to the satchel, as if weighing theft, tax, and trouble in one glance.
Master Kaelen
The relic was not taken from your halls. We came by old routes, old work, and old debt.
The Clerk
Old routes are how people hide old lies.
At that, the clerk lifts the satchel flap only enough to glimpse the brass glint within. Their expression shifts, not softened, but sharpened with recognition.
The Clerk
That token... and that mark. You did not come here by accident.
The clerk closes the satchel again and taps the ledger clasp once. Not a refusal, not a welcome, but an opening. The relic is still unsold, yet the next question is no longer whether the guild knows it, only who first.
“I open the satchel for the clerk”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled +1)
Gamb'lynn Junior eases the satchel open, not to hide it but to make a clean offering of what is inside. The brass glint catches the guild light and the clerk's attention locks on it at once.
Gamb'lynn Junior
There. You can look.
The Clerk
Bold, or desperate. Sometimes both look the same at this counter.
The clerk draws the flap wider and studies the token in silence. Their thumb hovers over the ledger, then shifts to the guild seal stamped beside it.
Master Kaelen
You know the mark, then. Tell us if it belongs to your halls, or to the old routes beneath them.
The Clerk
I know enough to say this is not street scrap. It carries maker's work, and old work at that.
The clerk finally looks up from the satchel, wary but no longer dismissive. Their voice drops, more careful now, as if the room itself has started listening.
The Clerk
If you mean to move this relic quietly, I may know who will hear you out. But first, I need to know who else has seen that token.
“I ask who will hear me out”
FAILURE (Good Reasoning, rolled -2)
Gamb'lynn Junior
Who will hear me out?
The clerk does not answer at once. Their eyes flick from Gamb'lynn Junior's face to the brass token, then to Master Kaelen, measuring the room like a locked mechanism.
The Clerk
Not my first choice to say it aloud, but the old brokers beneath the market still trade in what the guild will not name. If anyone takes this, it is them.
Master Kaelen
Beneath the market again. So the cistern route is no rumor.
The clerk taps the ledger seal once, then slides the satchel flap half-closed with careful fingers. It is not refusal, but it is not trust either.
The Clerk
I can put a name to a door, not to a friend. If you carry this farther, you carry scrutiny with it.
Behind the counter, the guild seal gleams over their hand, and the open satchel becomes a question instead of an answer.