"Hold it. Which guild are you?"

At the gate, a knot of guards blocked Medith and her sisters. They’d shed the Dusk Legion coats. They wore brown robes like dusk-dusted soil, hoods low like cloud shadows, hiding shape and face.

Medith drew out Uncle Serpent’s black coin, the metal cold like moonstone. "Sass City of the Free Realm. Members of the Black Serpent Guild. We’re under orders to buy certain things."

"What things?"

The guard watched her like a hawk over field grass, wary, doubtful, yet he didn’t ask her to lift the hood.

Medith’s smile tilted wicked, like a crescent blade. "Things we can’t name."

The captain held her gaze for a few heartbeats, his stare like a spear testing armor. In her emerald eyes, laughter pooled like jade water, unreadable. At last, he waved them through, the gate yawning like a mouth.

"Nice," Rita breathed, admiration warm as tea in winter. Everything played out as Medith said; no one dared pry, doubt curling like smoke then fading.

Medith’s delight was a slow flame; then her words came calm as rain on tiles. "A city at this tier is a stew of saints and sharks. Guilds are countless; how many can he truly recognize? As long as you show a basic mark, even in disguise you can slip like a shadow. Besides, we carry the real token in hand, iron speaking louder than faces."

Sais frowned, confusion misting like morning fog. "And that 'can’t say' line—he bought it?"

Medith shrugged, shoulders loose as willow branches. "It’s a universal line. Even if I said, 'None of your business,' he’d have nothing to say. This city isn’t under his sky. Even a legendary guild can’t cover the heavens with one hand."

The women smiled, ease spreading like sunlight on water. "Fair point."

Medith’s gaze swept the streets, her eyes skimming like swallows. The city sprawled absurdly wide, a giant carpet unrolling to the horizon. Sia City takes an hour from wall to wall; here, you’d need half a day, feet beating like drums.

People surged like a tide; voices buzzed like summer cicadas. Guild flags speared the air, weaving a mosaic of color. Most were the blue banners of the Kuso Guild, a sea of azure. Far off, a tower rose over ten meters, and a golden flag burned like noon sun—likely their headquarters.

Under normal skies, their look would draw eyes like needles. Here, it was the most ordinary mask. Besides the guilds already settled, most outsiders dressed the same, hoods like leaves hiding veins.

When two sides clash, a hidden face saves trouble like a shield saves bone. Many come to do things they can’t voice, secrets coiled like snakes. As long as you don’t start a fight, you can do almost anything. Otherwise, this place wouldn’t be called the Sanctuary of Freedom.

...

They slipped into a bar, lamps smoking like fireflies in jars. They ordered a few spiked drinks, bitter and bright as citrus. They leaned on their keen hearing, combing the room for rumors like fishermen casting nets. Useful scraps were few, thin as reeds. So Medith flagged a server. He was wary at first, words chopped in half like broken bamboo. Under the twins of wealth and charm, his tongue loosened like thawed ice.

...

Medith’s voice turned steady, steel under silk. "This is where we stand. Once the blood coin shows, blood follows like rain after thunder. We aren’t exactly wanted, but keep faces hidden, shadows wrapped tight."

"This city holds millions, a hive humming day and night. Half are guild folk. The Kuso Guild alone takes seven-tenths, a blue flood. They’re likely stronger than we guessed."

"This part’s mine. Stick to the original plan. You recruit in the dark, roots spreading like vines. I’ll try to meet their guildmaster and talk, blade to olive branch."

They spoke in a large inn, lanterns breathing like sleeping beasts. In the end, they chose to let Medith negotiate first. The others braced for failure, calm settling like ash.