The lounge area of the Adventurer Guild existed in a peculiar pocket of tranquility, deliberately separated from the bustling activity of the rest of the building.

Beyond the reception desk and the constant flow of adventurers and commissioners, this corner felt almost timeless. Soft amber light streamed through tall windows set high along the stone wall, with glass treated to diffuse sunlight into a warm, steady glow rather than harsh glare.

The polished floor showed no signs of wear despite the heavy traffic nearby, and the low hum of conversation in the Guild Hall faded here into a distant murmur.

Sage reclined on one of the sofas, his posture relaxed yet alert. One arm draped casually over the backrest while his fingers curled loosely as if poised to spring into action at any moment. A cup of tea sat untouched on the table before him.

With a calm expression on his face, he sank into deep thought, tapping lightly on his thigh to create a subtle rhythm. Just then, he heard faint footsteps approaching.

"You took your time," he said evenly without raising his gaze.

A figure halted at a respectful distance. "Greyvale has become louder," came a measured voice in response. "It takes longer to move unseen."

Sage turned his head slightly, fixing his eyes on the man standing before him.

It was Pax. Dressed in plain attire that offered no indication of importance, his cloak was clean but unremarkable, and his boots were worn yet well-kept. If one encountered him on the street, they would likely forget him moments later.

However, there was something different about him now. He stood straighter, shoulders squared, not with arrogance but with newfound certainty.

His gaze was focused; it assessed rather than wandered. There was an air of discipline in how he held himself and restraint in how he waited for acknowledgment.

"Come, sit down and let's talk," Sage gestured toward the opposite sofa.

Pax nodded with a smile and lowered himself onto the seat with deliberate care, neither sprawling nor sitting stiffly. He placed both feet flat on the floor and rested his hands loosely on his knees while keeping his eyes attentive.

For a moment, silence enveloped them, not awkward but weighted with anticipation.

Sage finally reached for his tea, took a small sip, then set it back down. "You said you had a report."

"Yes," Pax replied confidently. "On our intelligence network."

Sage inclined his head slightly. "Go ahead; I'm eager to know how much it has grown."

Pax inhaled softly, slowly and deliberately, as if aligning his thoughts before releasing them. "The organization currently operates under the name Grey Veil," he began. "It spans five out of Greyvale City's six districts. While full coverage hasn't been achieved yet, we have established observational presence."

Sage listened intently without interruption as he sipped from his cup.

"Let's start with Gryphon District," Pax said, his tone steady. "This area encircles the Adventurer Guild and acts as the backbone of our network. The traffic here is relentless, the movement thick, and the presence of adventurers generates a natural hum that conceals observation. Our Listeners primarily gather intel through eavesdropping, arguments, negotiations, and casual chatter after a few drinks. It's also where most false rumors begin to circulate, but the sheer volume makes it easier to spot patterns."

He paused briefly to ensure Sage was following along.

"Now, Emberlane District operates quite differently," Pax continued. "It's home to craftsmen, workshops, and lower-tier merchants. People there tend to speak cautiously but often voice their complaints. The information gathered usually revolves around supply routes, material shortages, and disputes among guilds. While not politically influential, Emberlane can reveal early signs of economic strain."

Sage tapped his fingers against the armrest as he listened intently.

"Then there's Lowbridge District," Pax said. "It's chaotic, filled with docks, warehouses, and transient workers. Information from here can be inconsistent but occasionally valuable. Smuggling routes, unofficial contracts, and unregistered goods flow through this area first. The risks for our Listeners are higher here, but the potential rewards make it worthwhile."

He took a moment before continuing.

"As for Northreach," he added thoughtfully, "it's a residential neighborhood inhabited by middle-class families, guards, and city clerks. The information tends to come in slowly but is reliable, changes in law enforcement behavior or patrol schedules often surface here days before they become public knowledge."

"What about Dockside District?" Sage leaned forward slightly with curiosity.

"Dockside shares some overlap with Lowbridge but differs in scale," Pax replied. "It sees foreign arrivals and carries whispers from beyond the city walls. Ships transport more than just cargo, they bring news too; much of it is trivial while some can be incredibly significant."

Sage leaned back slightly in his chair as interest flickered in his eyes.

"How does your organizational structure work?" he asked after a moment's thought.

Pax straightened up slightly as excitement crept into his voice. "At the base are the Listeners," he explained. "They're beggars, street dwellers, people largely overlooked by society. Their role is straightforward: observe, remember, report. They don't interpret or confront; they're trained solely to notice what repeats and what stands out."

"A step above them are the Collectors," Pax continued smoothly. "One per district; they receive reports from Listeners and categorize them, filtering out noise while identifying recurring themes without ever leaving their assigned areas."

Sage nodded appreciatively as he took another sip of tea.

"The next layer is the Eyes," Pax explained. "Their role is to verify information. They cross-reference reports from different districts, confirm timelines, and identify any contradictions. Their job is to discern whether something is merely coincidence, a fabrication, or an actual signal."

Sage leaned in, curious. "And how do you communicate this information to one another?"

"That's managed by the Whisperers," Pax replied. "They travel between districts, carrying only fragments of information. No single person holds the complete picture; even I receive only summaries instead of raw data."

Sage let out a slow breath. "That's quite clever, compartmentalization for loss containment."

"Exactly," Pax agreed. "If one layer gets compromised, the others can pull back."

A brief silence hung between them.

"What about the sixth District, the Central District?" Sage asked quietly, his eyes narrowing.

Pax's expression grew serious. "The Central District," he said carefully, "is off-limits."

He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. "It's the city's core, a place where noble estates, merchant lords, and the Baron's authority converge. Access is tightly controlled; only the wealthy, influential individuals or those directly employed by them can cross its borders. Beggars are swiftly removed, or worse."

Sage's gaze darkened a bit. "So there's no observation at all?"

"Only indirect observations," Pax clarified. "We monitor movements in and out, shifts in guard behavior at the borders and carriage traffic. We see shadows cast outward but not the source itself."

Silence enveloped them once more as the Guild buzzed beyond the lounge, unaware of their conversation.

Pax wrapped up his report and waited.

For a long moment, Sage remained silent as he processed everything, the five districts with their layered structure and discipline that thrived without formal training; intelligence built not on fear or wealth but on invisibility and patience.

This isn't luck, he thought to himself; it's instinct honed into method. His gaze stayed fixed on Pax while outwardly he maintained his composure.

Internally, however, one heavy thought surfaced:

"I didn't pick up a stray."

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