The Guild Hall buzzed with life like never before, yet for Sage, it felt strangely quiet. He strolled across the marble floor, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his boots echoing in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

Around him, the Guild pulsed like a living entity. Adventurers gathered in loose clusters, their voices overlapping in lively discussions. The faint clinking of metal and the creaking of leather filled the air. Near the training ground entrance, laughter erupted suddenly, followed by the dull thud of someone hitting the padded ground.

At the bar counter, a small crowd had formed once again, as if sheer will could summon wine from empty shelves.

And yet, none of this reached Sage. His gaze skimmed over everything without truly focusing on anything; his mind was elsewhere, spiraling inward rather than outward.

To an observer, he might have appeared relaxed and idle, just a Guildmaster surveying his domain with casual satisfaction. But behind his eyes lay a flurry of calculations stacking upon one another, threads weaving into half-formed designs that refused to settle.

His steps slowed as he spotted Boren at the receptionist desk. The man stood hunched over slightly, massive hands moving with surprising care as he sorted through documents. Ink-stained fingers worked diligently while his brow furrowed in concentration as he double-checked names against the registration ledger.

Every so often, Boren nodded to himself and mouthed silent rehearsals of procedures Sage had drilled into him earlier. When an adventurer approached, he straightened instinctively and offered a polite smile tinged with anxiety, a voice respectful and careful not to offend.

It was… strange, not because Boren lacked competence; if anything, he was trying too hard, but because of what Sage now understood.

Stonehelm.

The name surfaced uninvited in Sage's thoughts, heavy as iron. His fingers tightened slightly in his pockets as he continued walking, eyes fixed on Boren behind the desk.

From an outsider's perspective, Boren seemed exactly what everyone thought: a soft-bodied nobody dressed in robes straining at the seams, a harmless presence tucked away behind paper and ink. Someone easy to laugh at or ignore.

Yet…

Third son of House Stonehelm.

A family standing just one step below the Baron himself.

Sage exhaled slowly through his nose. Even now, its implications hadn't fully settled within him.

The Baron ruled this region without question; his seal carried authority and law while his armies bore teeth. But power wasn't built solely on authority, it relied on balance and concessions made quietly behind closed doors, on lines no one crossed unless they were ready to bleed.

House Stonehelm was one such line.

Pax's report echoed in Sage's mind, not for its words but for their weight.

Dungeon controllers and trade arteries intertwined deeply within this region's economy; removing them would cripple entire districts. A patriarch whose name alone could close doors or open them without ever needing to appear personally.

Even the Baron, for all his power, wouldn't dare to challenge a family like Stonehelm lightly.

Sage understood that Stonehelm couldn't rival the Baron directly. Power wasn't a simple ladder; it was more like an intricate web. House Stonehelm occupied a strong and well-anchored strand within that web.

They were not just any family. That much was clear.

Which made Boren Stonehelm's presence, awkwardly standing behind his desk, all the more absurd and dangerous.

Sage turned away, resuming his slow circuit of the hall, his mind working relentlessly. He could see an opportunity clearly now, shining beneath layers of neglect and disregard.

A connection,...no, a lever, to one of the most powerful noble houses in the region stood quietly in his Guild, stamping papers and learning how to speak politely to adventurers.

It was a golden opportunity.

And yet…

Sage's brows furrowed. Gold covered in rust remained worthless until polished. Boren had no leverage, no influence, and no allies within his own family. Pax's report had driven that point home painfully.

His mother's death during childbirth, whether truly his fault or not, had cast a shadow over him from the moment he drew breath. Blame didn't need to be spoken aloud to take effect.

Sometimes silence alone suffocated with its weight, a complete withdrawal of affection that felt stifling.

Neglect proved more effective than cruelty.

Boren wasn't disowned or exiled; he was simply… left behind. Allowed to exist but never to matter.

A Stonehelm by blood but a nobody by standing. Sage clicked his tongue softly.

That was the crux of the issue. If Boren had been favored, this would have been straightforward. If he had been acknowledged, protected, positioned, Sage could have used him as a bridge through which influence flowed naturally.

But as things stood now, Boren was just an unanchored piece with no weight behind it, a name without authority and a title stripped of power. No leverage meant no pressure; no pressure meant no negotiation.

Sage paused near one of the pillars, resting against the cool stone as he observed Boren interacting with another adventurer.

The stout man bowed slightly, apologized for a minor delay, and hurried along faster while puffing slightly from exertion.

Pitiful, that's what people would say. Sage narrowed his eyes slightly at that thought; pitiful things often went unnoticed and forgotten.

Which was precisely why they could be honed without attracting attention.

He straightened up from the pillar and resumed walking, slower now, as his thoughts sank deeper into contemplation. Gryphon District loomed large in his mind like an unopened chest brimming with potential.

It was changing slowly but surely, in ways only someone paying close attention would notice. Adventurers flocked there now; merchants followed suit; services adapted accordingly. The Guild had become an anchor drawing activity inward like gravity.

It wasn't a gold mine yet, but it would be, within two to three months at most. Once that happened, the nobles would take notice. The Baron would certainly pay attention. As soon as Gryphon District's value became undeniable, hands would reach for it from every direction, permits, taxes, "oversight," and administrative control masquerading as regulation.

Sage snorted quietly; he'd seen this game before. Right now, the Guild's authority there was practical rather than official. Guild law was respected because it worked; adventurers adhered to it because chaos was bad for business. But without an official seal or formal acknowledgment of jurisdiction, everything remained provisional.

Semi-his wasn't enough. Sage needed Gryphon District to fall under the Guild's jurisdiction in name as well as function, a space where Guild law reigned supreme and any interference required negotiation instead of assumption.

To achieve that, he needed real leverage.

His gaze drifted back to Boren again, softer this time. The boy,...no, the man, laughed awkwardly at something an adventurer said, scratching his head while his belly jiggled with the motion. There was no arrogance or resentment in him, just an earnest and almost painful desire to succeed.

A neglected child of a powerful house.

Sage exhaled slowly. You don't polish gold directly; you change the environment around it.

He couldn't use Boren as he was, not yet. The Stonehelms wouldn't care if Boren worked himself to exhaustion in a Guild hall; they might not even know about it. And if they did? They'd likely shrug it off.

So the question wasn't how to use Boren, it was how to make him matter. Sage's steps slowed again near the center of the hall. The noise washed around him, voices mingling with movement, but his mind raced several moves ahead.

Ideas surfaced half-formed before sinking back down: visibility, reputation, dependence.

If Boren became indispensable to the Guild's operations, if his absence caused friction or inefficiency, even minor chaos, that could work in Sage's favor. If adventurers began associating the smooth operation of the Guild with him personally? That would be even better.

Still not enough, the Stonehelms wouldn't care what adventurers thought about their operations. But they would care about territory, and Gryphon District was becoming territory worth caring about.

A faint curve appeared on Sage's lips, not quite a smile but something colder and sharper.

If Boren couldn't pull weight from his family…

Then Sage would stack weight on Boren until ignoring him became inconvenient.

Not today or tomorrow, but soon.

He resumed walking, his mind clearer now as ideas aligned into loose frameworks rather than scattered thoughts. None were foolproof; each carried risks and depended on timing and patience, on letting events ripen instead of forcing them prematurely.

But they existed, and that was enough, for now. As he walked past the receptionist's desk, Boren instinctively glanced up, straightening his posture with a nervous grin.

Sage caught his gaze for just a moment, nodded once, and continued on without saying a word. Boren felt himself relax as he returned to his work.

Meanwhile, Sage moved forward, his coat swaying gently with each step. The Guild was expanding, and Gryphon District was undergoing changes that would surely attract the attention of the Nobles.

And when that attention came… Sage's eyes sparkled with determination. He would be ready.

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