CHAPTER 8: GUILD ECONOMICS

The sword felt heavier than Wade expected when he first strapped it across his back.

Its leather sheath pressed snug against his shoulder, the hilt peeking just above his right ear.

He shifted his weight, trying to get used to the new balance. The weapon wasn’t ornate, but it was well made. It was made out of steel that had been sharpened many times, the leather grip worn smooth from other hands before his.

Rowan walked beside him, hands loosely folded behind his back. His long stride was easy and unhurried, the opposite of Sebastian’s steady march ahead of them.

"The sword is the most versatile of weapons," Rowan said, his voice calm as if he was giving a lecture. "Reach, cutting edge, thrust, defense, it’s got it all in equal balance."

"It will serve you better than an axe or a spear until you learn what kind of fighter you are. I advocate that every adventurer should start with one."

Wade nodded, his fingers brushing the hilt. "I’ll trust your judgment."

"You’ll thank me later," Rowan said with a smile.

Wade also carried more than just the sword. Inside his new Inventory, one of the six glowing slots held a folded set of fresh clothes.

It contained simple trousers, a spare tunic, and a short cloak. The thought of not having to drag them around in a sack amazed him.

It was a small miracle that no tech company would even attempt back on earth. An empty pocket dimension that had already made his life easier.

The party moved through the streets of Hiving, and for the first time since he arrived, Wade noticed the city with clear eyes.

The streets were wide, broad enough for carts to roll in both directions without squeezing past each other. The cobblestones were uneven but serviceable, lined with water channels that shimmered under the morning sun.

Stalls stood on either side, with vendors crying out their wares, including spices, cloth, and bread fresh from the ovens.

But what struck Wade most were the buildings that rose above the cityscape.

Three of them stood higher than all the rest, each built with stone and crowned with their own banners.

The Lion’s Guild, with its golden crest of the roaring lion.

The Serpent Guild, marked with a green scaled serpent coiled around a dagger.

The Iron Fist Guild, whose emblem showed a gauntleted hand crushing a shield.

They stood at three points of the city like giants watching each other, each daring the others to blink first.

Wade hadn’t realized it when his thoughts had been consumed by his hunger, but now he could see it. This city was more than just crowded streets. It was the battleground of guilds, competing not only for dungeons but for power.

But a question kept popping up in Wade’s mind, one he hadn’t shaken since orientation.

He lowered his voice. "Rowan, can I ask something?"

"Of course." Rowan grinned.

"There’s something I don’t understand. Our contracts says we must sell loot to the guild first, right? The Right of First Refusal. But if they’re buying from us... how do they make money? They’re just paying out coins."

Rowan chuckled, the sound light. "A fair question. And one I’m proud to say I can answer."

"Think of it this way. Some skills and items can only be found in certain dungeons. A Flame Serpent’s Nest might always drop [Fireball] skill stones, for example. A Shadow Labyrinth might yield stealth techniques. That means whichever guild owns the dungeon controls the supply of those skills."

Wade frowned, listening carefully.

"By forcing adventurers to sell the stones to them first, the guild gets a monopoly," Rowan continued. "Then they resell at whatever price they please to the other guilds, or even to kingdoms desperate for those skills. The margin of profit is enormous."

Wade blinked. "So the guilds are competitors, but they’re also... each other’s customers?"

"Exactly," Rowan said, nodding. "They fight for territory, but they also feed each other. One guild might control healing stones, another stealth, another elemental magic. No guild can control them all, so trade between them is constant."

Wade’s mind reeled. It was worse than he thought.

Adventurers weren’t just bound by contracts. They were the labor force of a monopoly war. He clenched his jaw but said nothing, storing the truth away.

The party soon reached the city gates, where the flow of traffic surged outwards.

There were farmers with wagons, merchants with guards, travelers wrapped in their cloaks, and other adventures going on their quests.

Beyond the gates, the roads stretched towards the countryside, fading into green fields and the dark smudge of forests.

Sebastian stepped forward to the stable and exchanged words with the keeper. Moments later, four horses were led out, each saddled and bridled.

"Mount up," Sebastian said.

Wade froze. His gut twisted. "I... don’t know how to ride."

Ingrid snorted. The derisive sound was the first real emotion she had shown since he met her. Her pale eyes gleamed with faint amusement before her face slid back into its usual mask.

Rowan laughed softly, shaking his head. "It’s not as hard as it looks. Here." He guided Wade toward the smallest of the horses, patting its flank. "Left foot in the stirrup. Grab the saddle horn. Swing your leg over. Don’t overthink it."

Wade hesitated, then followed the steps. The horse shifted beneath him, but he landed in the seat with only a small wobble. His heart thumped, but he didn’t fall.

"Good," Rowan said, still smiling. "Now keep your heels down and your back straight. The horse knows where to go. Just don’t fight it."

Wade gripped the reins tighter than necessary, but he managed a nod.

Sebastian mounted with ease, even with his bulk, and Ingrid swung onto her horse with grace. Rowan took his place last.

The gates creaked open, and the party rode out into the morning light.

Wade’s horse trotted forward, the road stretching ahead into the horizon. His back ached and his hands felt awkward, but he was learning already.