The Mad WarDragon of Greed.

Chapter 6: Divers.

“Come along, Stravos. There's somewhere I want to take you before I attend to my other business.”

Gus adjusted his coat and gestured toward the street ahead, where the carriage stood waiting. The others had already climbed aboard, and the driver was checking the reins while the horses shifted impatiently against their harnesses.

Stravos glanced at the carriage, then at the old merchant. “What about the others?”

“They're heading back to their own business. You, on the other hand, need somewhere to start earning money.” Gus gave him a brief once-over. “Unless you've discovered a secret source of income since we last spoke, I suggest you come with me.”

“I haven't been fortunate enough to discover one.”

“Then we're in agreement.” Gus started walking. “And don't worry about the registration f*e. I'll cover it.”

Stravos followed. Free registration was a sensible offer, and he had no reason to refuse it.

They made their way along the busy street, passing merchants calling out prices and customers weaving between stalls. Stravos paid attention to his surroundings, noting the steady flow of people and the ease with which some exchanged greetings. He had trusted appearances once before, with disastrous results, and had no intention of making the same mistake in this unfamiliar world.

After several turns, Gus stopped before a broad building with a sturdy stone foundation and wooden upper floors. Armed men and women passed through its wide entrance, while others gathered outside to discuss business. Above the doorway, a large sign displayed a single word.

DIVERS.

“This is your Guild?” Stravos asked.

“One of them, yes.” Gus straightened his coat. “My children run most of its affairs these days, but I still have a say in certain matters.”

“You neglected to mention that you were involved with a Guild.”

“You never asked.”

“I was under the impression that you preferred asking questions rather than answering them.”

Gus laughed and led the way inside. “You'll learn that asking questions is useful, young man. Knowing which ones to ask is even more important.”

The main hall was filled with activity. Attendants worked behind a long reception counter, notices covered a board along the opposite wall, and members gathered around tables to discuss assignments or settle disputes. The air carried the smells of leather, dust, and food brought in from the street, while the constant clatter of boots and voices made the place feel busier than it looked from outside.

Several members greeted Gus as they passed. Some addressed him respectfully, while others offered a familiar nod before returning to their conversations. Stravos noticed the recognition but kept his observations to himself.

“Master Gus!” A young woman behind the counter looked up and set aside her documents. “It's been a while. Is there something you need?”

“Registration.” Gus gestured toward Stravos. “I want this young man admitted into Divers.”

The attendant examined Stravos's sword and travel-worn clothes before meeting his eyes. “Has he been assessed by a party or a ranking officer?”

“I've seen enough to vouch for his ability.”

“That doesn't replace the formal assessment, Master Gus.”

“No, but it should be enough to get the registration started. His initial rank can be determined according to your rules.”

She retrieved a form. “Very well. I'll need his name, previous Guild affiliation, and any documents proving his identity.”

“Stravos,” he answered.

Her pen touched the paper. “Your full name, please.”

“Stravos is the name you need.”

The attendant stopped writing. “I need your full name for the record. If you have a family name, you must provide it.”

“Then record Stravos.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Sir, I'm trying to complete your registration properly. The Guild has procedures for a reason, and I cannot simply ignore the information required on this form.”

“I'm not asking you to ignore anything. Enter the name I've given you and proceed with your work.”

The attendant tightened her grip on the pen and glanced at Gus, expecting him to intervene. The old merchant merely watched them, his expression suggesting that he was curious to see how the exchange would end.

“Master Gus, surely you understand that I cannot register someone without the necessary details.”

“I understand the rules,” Gus replied. “I'll vouch for him and cover the f*e. Register him as a new member.”

“Even so, the identity section—”

“Your job is to register me,” Stravos interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “I've given you the name I intend to use. Do your job and use it.”

Her face flushed with anger, and her pen struck the counter with a sharp click. For a moment, she looked ready to tell him exactly what she thought of his attitude, but she caught herself and drew a slow breath. When she spoke again, she kept her voice controlled, though the strain was clear.

“Master Gus, I'm only trying to ensure that this registration doesn't cause trouble for Divers later.”

“And I appreciate that.” Gus's friendly tone carried a note of authority. “I'll take responsibility for the sponsorship. If further information is required, we'll deal with it when the need arises.”

The attendant held his gaze before finally returning to the form. “Very well. I'll register him under Stravos.”

“Thank you,” Stravos said.

She offered no reply and continued filling in the remaining fields, pressing her pen harder against the paper than necessary.

Gus leaned toward Stravos. “You could have been a little more diplomatic.”

“I gave her a name. She asked for another, and I declined.”

“You've made a simple registration sound like a declaration of war.”

“Then I suggest she doesn't take it personally.”

Gus shook his head, suppressing a laugh. “You really are something else.”

Stravos paid him little attention. He had no interest in provoking the attendant, but he would not surrender his name merely to make the process easier.

When she finished the form, she placed it beside a small device embedded in the counter. A pale light spread across its polished surface as she touched its markings.

“Your registration will be free this time,” Gus said. “Consider it an investment in someone I believe could be useful to Divers.”

“You seem rather confident in that belief.”

“I watched you return from the canyon with a giant centipede dead behind you. I've dealt with enough adventurers to recognize when someone has more to offer than he's showing.” Gus lowered his voice slightly. “You kept your abilities to yourself and didn't boast about the kill. I don't know your history, but I'd rather have you working with Divers than let another Guild discover your value first.”

Stravos studied him. Gus was more observant than his easy manner suggested, but the offer was useful, and there was no reason to refuse it.

“I'll make use of the opportunity,” he said.

“That is all I ask. My children handle the Guild's daily affairs, but they're both away at the moment.” Gus glanced toward a man waiting near a doorway. “Unfortunately, I have a matter that needs my attention now. Finish your registration and stay out of trouble until I return.”

“I'll try not to cause any unnecessary trouble.”

“Somehow, that doesn't reassure me.”

Gus gave the attendant a final nod before leaving with the waiting man. Stravos watched them disappear into a side corridor, then turned back to the counter.

The attendant entered his name into the device. Several markings appeared across its surface before the light flickered and went dark. She frowned, checked the form, and entered the name again.

This time, the light returned more sharply, and a red symbol appeared beside his name.

The attendant froze.

“Is there a problem?” Stravos asked.

“Please wait a moment.”

She leaned closer to the display, read it twice, then retrieved a thin metal plate bearing Divers's insignia. After pressing it against the side of the device, she waited for another response. A second set of markings appeared, and her expression tightened.

She quickly covered the display with the registration form, but not before Stravos caught sight of the red symbol.

“Is my registration going to be delayed?” he asked.

“I need to consult a supervisor.”

“Why?”

“It's a procedural matter.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

Her jaw tightened, though the anger from their earlier exchange had given way to uncertainty. She glanced toward the corridor Gus had entered, gathered the form, and hurried through the door behind the counter.

Stravos watched her go. He had no reason to leave before learning what had caused the alert, and walking away would hardly make it disappear. He rested a hand on the counter and waited, keeping his expression neutral.

The attendant returned several minutes later with a middle-aged man wearing a white Guild badge. He looked at Stravos, then examined the form.

“Are you Stravos?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Your registration triggered an alert in our records. I need to verify a few details before we proceed.”

“Which details?”

“Your previous affiliations, your place of origin, and whether you've registered with another organization under a different name.”

“I've already told your attendant that I have no previous Guild affiliation. As for the rest, I don't have documents to provide.”

The man studied him. “You understand that we have to take these matters seriously.”

“Of course. I'd simply prefer to know what matter I'm being asked to take seriously.”

The supervisor didn't answer. He examined the device, his expression growing guarded as he read the information on its display.

“I'll authorize your registration for now,” he said at last. “The alert will be forwarded for review, but it won't prevent you from becoming a member of Divers. Your initial rank will be determined by the standard assessment.”

“Then we can proceed.”

The supervisor seemed mildly surprised by Stravos's lack of argument. He instructed the attendant to finish the registration, and she placed a blank Guild card on the device. The markings appeared on its surface, settling into a neat arrangement with Stravos's name at the center.

“Your card identifies you as a member of Divers,” she explained, handing it over. “Keep it with you when accepting requests, and report any lost or damaged card to the reception desk.”

Stravos examined the card before slipping it into a secure pocket. He had his first foothold in the modern world, even if the registration had proved more troublesome than expected.

Before he could move away, a commotion erupted near the entrance. Several members had gathered around a man whose clothes were torn and stained with dirt. His face was drawn with exhaustion, and one arm was bound tightly against his chest. Another member stood beside him, arguing with a receptionist.

“We followed the information you gave us,” the injured man insisted. “The location was wrong, the evidence had been moved, and someone had already been through the site before we arrived. We lost two days, and the request is still unresolved!”

“You were given the information submitted by your own party,” the receptionist replied. “If there was a mistake, the Guild will investigate it, but shouting at the desk won't change the report.”

“Then investigate it before another team gets sent out to die!”

The surrounding conversations faded. Stravos turned toward the argument, noticing the red badge fastened to the injured man's belt.

The receptionist checked a document. “The request was classified as a Red-rank investigation. Your party failed to complete it and returned without a conclusive report. Until the matter is resolved, the client can withhold the remaining payment and file a complaint against Divers.”

“And you think we don't know that?” The injured man clenched his good hand. “We did the work. Someone made sure we couldn't finish it.”

A lean man with a bandage across his forehead shook his head. “We don't know that for certain. The information was wrong, but that doesn't prove someone deliberately sabotaged us.”

“Then explain how our route was discovered before we arrived.”

“I can't.”

“Exactly!”

The argument resumed, but Stravos had already begun considering the possibilities. The party had relied on information that proved unreliable, and someone had apparently reached the site before them. It might have been incompetence, bad luck, or deliberate interference. He needed facts before settling on an explanation.

The injured member noticed his attention and glanced at the sword at his waist. “You're new.”

“I registered a moment ago.”

“Then do yourself a favor and stay away from that request. It's already cost us enough trouble.”

“If you believe someone deliberately sent your party to the wrong location, why are you arguing over the report instead of finding out who did it?” Stravos asked.

The injured man stared at him, while the bandaged member fell silent.

“Because we don't have proof,” the injured man replied. “Without it, the Guild won't authorize another team to investigate the same ground.”

“Then provide a reason for them to look again.”

“We already told them what happened.”

“You told them the information was wrong and your route was discovered. What did you find at the site? What was missing? And why do you believe someone knew where you were going?” Stravos looked between the two men. “If you want the Guild to take this seriously, give them facts instead of repeating your conclusions.”

The bandaged man studied him more carefully. “And what makes you think you can do any better?”

“Nothing yet. I haven't seen the request, the report, or the evidence.” Stravos kept his voice measured. “But I know an unanswered question when I hear one.”

The injured man glanced at the reception desk. His anger had not disappeared, but curiosity had begun to replace it.

“You want to look at the report?”

“I want to know what happened. Whether I take the request depends on what I find.”

The bandaged member exchanged a look with his companion. “It's a Red-rank investigation. You just registered, and you don't even have an established rank. The Guild won't hand it over because you asked.”

“Then ask them.”

The receptionist turned toward Stravos, visibly displeased. “The request cannot be reassigned without an assessment. A new member cannot simply take over a failed Red-rank mission.”

“Then assess him,” the injured man said. “If he thinks he can solve it, let him prove it. At least someone might finally give us an answer.”

The supervisor who had authorized Stravos's registration had been listening. He retrieved the original request and examined it before looking up.

“The investigation concerns repeated thefts and missing supplies along a trade route outside Eldora. The client suspects an organized group is responsible, but the previous party failed to identify the perpetrators or discover where the stolen goods were taken.”

“Why was it classified as Red rank?” Stravos asked.

“The thieves may be armed, the missing supplies are valuable, and the operation appears organized. The request requires an investigation and a solution, not merely a report.” The supervisor paused before continuing. “The client still wants the matter resolved, but Divers cannot afford another failure. If you complete the request and your work passes assessment, you'll qualify for Red rank.”

The receptionist turned sharply toward him. “He's only just registered.”

“And the request needs to be completed,” the supervisor replied. “We can assign him an experienced member to accompany him, or leave the client waiting while we investigate the previous failure.”

Stravos glanced at the two returning members. The bandaged man no longer looked at him with open doubt, though his companion still seemed wary.

“I'll take the request,” Stravos said.

“You haven't even read the full report,” the receptionist pointed out.

“Then give it to me.”

The supervisor held his gaze for a moment before nodding to the attendant. “Prepare the file and record his acceptance. He'll receive the original route details and the client's information. His rank will be updated only after the request has been completed and verified.”

The attendant brought the file to the counter. Stravos opened it and read the first page, noting the route the party had followed and the evidence they had expected to find. Their destination had been searched before they arrived, and several pieces of evidence had disappeared. The report offered no clear explanation for how anyone could have known their intended route, while the statements from the surviving members differed on a few important details.

He closed the file and looked at the supervisor. “I'll need to speak with every member of the previous party, and I want the original documents submitted by the client. Keep everything, even if it appears irrelevant.”

The supervisor's expression shifted. “You believe there's evidence of deliberate interference?”

“I believe you don't know what happened yet. That's why the request remains unfinished.”

The injured member's shoulders eased slightly, though his companion remained quiet. Stravos noticed the man's guarded expression but chose not to question him in front of the others.

He tucked the file beneath his arm. “I'll visit the site and check the route myself. If the information was deliberately altered, the evidence should tell us more than this argument.”

The supervisor nodded. “Report to the desk before you leave. We'll record your departure and provide the remaining details.”

Stravos gave a brief acknowledgment and headed for the entrance. He had come to Divers for a Guild card and a way to earn money, but he now had a Red-rank investigation to solve. If someone had sabotaged the previous party, he intended to find out why.

Behind him, the attendant returned to the registration device. The red alert beside Stravos's name remained on the display, awaiting review by someone with greater authority.

She stared at it for a moment before reaching for the metal plate again. Whatever the record meant, it had not been cleared, and Stravos had no idea that his first assignment might not be the only matter waiting to complicate his new life.