"Then, Guildmaster, may I found a guild—do I have your consent?" Medith watched her with a half-smile, a crescent blade under velvet lids.

Olivya read the hint in that gaze; her fingertip tapped the table like spring rain on eaves, and she smiled, a flower that lured with scent and shadow.

"General, I'm not making it hard. With your name and skill, an [Epic Guild] is easy. But..."

Irritation flared like a struck spark. Sais snapped, "Spit out the terms."

Medith raised a hand, a fan shutting with a hush, telling Sais to hold her tongue.

"Heh... since that's so, this humble lady will be blunt. Our city has no [Legendary Guild]. This Free State is strong, yet compared to the city near the Northern Kingdom with the [Golden Coast], the gap's an ocean. We've only one [Epic Guild], at that."

"You want to back me into a [Legendary Guild], to swell your city's power and name?" Medith saw through the veil like a blade through silk.

Olivya's laughter rippled like blossoms in a sudden wind. "Mmm-huhu... speaking with the clever is a pleasure. As the General says, I help you found a guild. In return, you sign. For a hundred years, your headquarters stays put. You take on public promotion. We can borrow your name, gratis, for outreach and certain 'negotiations.' If the city faces a grave crisis beyond my hand, you must help—no pay—to suppress disorder and drive out invaders."

"We're just setting up a guild, so why do all the fruits fall into your basket?" Melia scratched her head, ruffled like a cat bristling at a brazen crow.

"How can you say that, Sprite? Since the Free State was born, only five [Legendary Guild]s have ever bloomed. The strongest of them can rival a Southern Kingdom duke with tens of thousands under arms. We move without fear, our roots scattered across the continent. Small stems, tangled vines—but of one heart. When we weave together, even a kingdom weighs war twice. Our trade is untaxed, lightly reined. Look around—lords and grandees trade here like cranes nesting in a reed marsh. Our profit chain tugs at the whole continent; who dares cut it? We'll build your guild at low cost. Materials, labor, land, management—it's all a mountain of coin. Once your plaque rises like a banner, with your name and steel, money and manpower will flood like a tide. You'll lean on countless powers. One order from you, and responses won't be fewer than ten thousand. For you and your kin, it's all boon, no harm."

The women blinked, stunned, like sparrows silenced by a hawk's shadow. Eyes flew, sharp and quick, trading silent words.

At last, they all looked to Medith. She crossed one leg, her boot swinging like a pendulum; one arm over Sais, one over Melia—an Emperor with beauties left and right.

Her gaze was scorn, her face winter-cold. "Hmph. And then? Is that all?"

Olivya blinked, not expecting the stone to sink without a ripple. "O-of course, not only that. I'll grant you a great sum up front, even war stock. If you want, we can provide intel on Impado and Regido. Even a Divine Stone and other 'special resources'—we can get them. If you sign."

She slid out pre-drafted papers from a drawer, white leaves like trapped doves.

Medith took them and pretended to read, eyes drinking deep, face rapt as if lost in a painted garden.

The alarm in Olivya's eyes ebbed like tide. Who could refuse such bait?

Medith tore the contract to snow, right before her. She cast it upward; confetti drifted down like late plum blossoms, speckling Olivya's fine dress and dark hair.

"General, you—" Olivya shook the flecks free, then lifted her head. Her sea-green eyes held a rising flame. "General, I treated you as a guest, careful not to slight you. We're merchants, not a charity. If you won't accept, then leave. Even if you won't trade, don't insult our rules."

Her tone turned to frost, with a tremor like a drawn bow.

The women flinched. None expected Medith to do that, yet none moved. Medith didn't do foolish things.

"Insult? No, madam. Don't mistake me. I simply don't deem it worthy." Medith's eyes were sword-bright, a cold line drawn straight to Olivya's heart.

She carried the reek of battle, a veteran steeped in blood; that stare could skin the soft from bone. Olivya, a delicate lady, couldn't bear it. "General... you... I've received many nobles in my life. To be blunt, those with more than you—"

"Madam, let me ask." Medith's gaze was a whetstone. "Anything you offered—does it help me in the least?"

Olivya laughed from anger, a bell cracked by heat. "If that's not help, then what do you—"

"First." Medith raised a slender, jade-like finger and cut her off. "Your initial funds? I don't need them. Simply put, I don't need money."

"Don't try to bluff me. You're new here. Even with some 'pocket change,' your costs will far exceed—"

"I stand with the largest city of the Wind Sprites. The Queen and I are close. If I pawned her crown, she wouldn't dare protest." Medith's voice was a winter river, flat and cold.

A hitch tugged at Olivya's lovely face; her lip twitched. "E-even so, she's not here. Huge funds are just the base. The key is I—"

"Second. Troops—I don't lack. I have thousands at my call. Not to brag, but I don't even fancy the fighters in your city." As Medith finished, Olivya's fingers pinched her skirt, knuckles white as shell.

"Don't forget where you are," Olivya said, voice tight as a noose. "Every place has rules. If I squeeze you on permits, you won't even register a guild. It helps no one. Why push it?"

"Third." Medith ignored her, lifting a third finger. "You've got the order wrong. You need me. I don't need you. If you won't host me, the world is wide. Someone else will meet my terms. Maybe they'll offer more."

Olivya went pale, biting her red lip, breath held like a deer in brush. Each step Medith took snapped one of her proud 'chips' like dry twigs.

Watching this proud woman eat dust, the others straightened, a quiet respect for Medith settling like dew.

"Then the Divine Stone, other intel, and all kinds of—"

"Fourth." Medith leaned in, a shadow falling across the table, her eyes cold as deep wells. "Your 'intel' and 'war stock' don't interest me. The current King of Eunomia, Elyu Ogathas, is my close friend. He personally named me an Honorary Paladin. If I give the word, not just ten thousand—he'll lend a hundred thousand. Can your resources outsize the Eastern Nation's treasury? Can your intel outrun a kingdom's couriers? As for your 'special resources'... not my taste. I already have the one I love, and beauties at my side. Besides, even if you refuse, I have ways to make you nod."

That last line was the final straw on the camel. Olivya let the fight drain from her like water from a broken jar. "I lose."