Time slipped by like sand through dusk-lit fingers. On the road, the women popped the chest. Gold and silver flashed like frost, but no Divine Stone.

They could pawn the shine and get a river of coin. They weren’t hurting for money; the Queen had scattered little treasures like stars. Medith’s golden pendant headpiece alone could feed them for months.

The mood stayed bright, laughter chiming like wind-bells along the way. Yet Sais, ever silent, brushed a gray smear across their sunlight.

1.14 — following the map, they reached their first stop: Sass City.

Clip-clop, clip-clop. White stallions carried them through a gate that yawned like an open mouth. Few guards stood, chainmail dull as old scales.

To avoid a ripple, they pulled up hoods like drifting clouds. Brown robes fell like dust, hiding pointed ears and their vivid troop colors.

They expected questions, nets thrown across their path. None came. Stranger fish swam this river.

Some were armored head-to-toe, blades hanging like a forest of fangs. Some wore masks and veils, suspicion stacked a hundredfold beyond theirs.

“What is this place…” Medith stared. Odd clothes everywhere, yet every heart bore a mark like a branded sigil.

They stabled the horses, then Medith led them into an inn. “Innkeep, how big is your largest room?”

“About two hundred square meters. You’re all together?” The innkeep’s voice was cool, like stone under shade.

“Yes. I’ll take it. How long does this gold bar cover the rent?” Medith laid down a slim bar that gleamed like a sunray.

The Lita Sisters broke a cold sweat, dew beading at their temples. They couldn’t grasp how easily Medith spoke and bargained with humans.

The innkeep had seen storms. He weighed the bar like a river stone. “A month’s enough.”

“No need for a month. Seven days will do.” Medith flicked a glance upstairs, sending the others to unpack.

“Upstairs, right-hand corridor, last room. Here’s the key.” The key arced like a silver fish and landed in their hands.

Sais cut Medith a wintry glance, then slipped away like fog to the second floor.

“Now,” the innkeep smiled, thin as a blade, “what do you want to know?”

Medith froze, a prickle running along her skin. Life with Sprites had taught her to be coaxed and sung to; she’d forgotten human sharpness. Sprites were springwater simple; humans weighed profit like iron.

“Good eye, Innkeep. Looks like you’ve traveled the world.” Caught, she relaxed. She drew a tall chair and sat across from him.

He fetched a bottle of red wine, pouring a dusk-red stream. “General, you probably don’t know. This city’s a Free League. Fewer big-nation rules. People here run deeper than they look.

You don’t need to hide so hard. Sprites walking in and out? Old news.”

Medith gripped the glass, unease humming like a trapped bee. “Innkeep, you…”

He polished the bottle; the cloth whispered like wind. “General, you think this is nowhere? My rooms aren’t for just anyone. On your face alone, I could comp it.”

“Who exactly are you…”

“I run the Black Serpent Guild. Folks call me Uncle Serpent.” His tone shifted, air coiling like a serpent. “Your bearing hits like a thousand pounds. Your gaze holds an ocean.

And that white hair—you could try to bury snow, but it still gleams.”

He looked barely past thirty, stubble like charcoal across a face mapped with scars. A straight nose, shoulder-length black hair, and deep-blue eyes cut like gemstones, magnetic enough to snare a stare.

“I… thought I hid well.” Medith’s calm didn’t ripple.

“You did. Only an old fox like me would spot it in a blink. Most won’t,” Uncle Serpent said.

“Then I’ll call you Uncle Serpent. What is this place? And what’s with these guilds?”

…

“Medith, why so long?” Melia asked as they finished the room.

Medith hung her robe, brown fabric draping like earth. “This city stands in a neutral field. No Kingdom claims it; no one does.

It’s a Free League. Basic order’s held by volunteer soldiers. The rest is carved into territories by guilds.”

“Guilds?” The women frowned, clouds gathering over a map. The continent’s split four ways. How do they live outside a crown? Would any Kingdom allow it?

“The innkeep didn’t give every detail. He said the city’s tangled. Guild folk scorn royal power, especially soldiers of the Southern Kingdom. They’re carefree, deep-rooted. Ordinary Southern Kingdom forces don’t dare stir trouble here.

He also told me if I want to start a guild in the city, he’ll help.” Medith lay back on the soft bed, thoughts drifting like smoke.

Lina pinned her chin with a fingertip, thinking. “No wonder the gate’s lax, no banners waving. Guild power holds the walls.

They’re thriving. This looks long-running. The Kingdom must know, yet takes no hard measures and even trades here. That invites questions…”

Medith nodded. Soldiers still patrolled like scattered reeds, but they didn’t match the crowd. Nobles from other lands flitted through like bright birds.

“Who is that innkeep, really? He saw through you?” Sais asked.

“He calls himself Uncle Serpent, head of the Black Serpent Guild. He’s got a name here. With his help, we’ll cut out a lot of detours,” Medith said.

“Really?! He’s a good man.” Rita smiled, sunlight spilling.

“The price?” Iling didn’t glow. She’d learned on the road—no one moves without gain.

“He wants my training methods,” Medith said.

“What do you mean? Your personal regimen or…”

“All of it.” Medith’s voice stayed even, a lake without ripples.

“You agreed?” Sais’s tone carried a sharp edge.

Medith shrugged, shoulders light as a leaf. “I said my swordplay’s self-made. Even with a full copy, he can’t use it.

It needs huge real-time reaction speed and combat intuition, evolving the optimal cut on the fly.”

“I… I don’t get it, sis.” Iling scratched her head, fog pooling behind her eyes.

Medith looked down from a high ridge, wind cold and clear. “Simple version:

My sword has three moves—thrust, press, cleave.

From three, a thousand forms bloom.

Every strike evolves in the moment, fed by battle-sense.

No fixed forms.

No fixed habits.

No one can read me. I don’t even know before I move.”

“Ah… oh, mm! Got it! So that’s it!” The Lita Sisters beamed, enlightenment like paper lanterns with no candle.

“Rest today. Tomorrow we walk the city, then grow the Dusk Legion’s reach. We’ll set up a guild and have some fun,” Medith said.

They nodded, dazed, like deer in moonlight. Everything felt too unreal; their hearts hadn’t caught up.

Medith didn’t know a tossed-off joke, a try-it-and-see guild, would later ripple across the whole continent like a storm-tide.