3rd POV: Lia Shinsei
The morning after the Guild's reformation, the air in Korvath felt lighter—yet it wasn't peace. It was a pause before something heavier.
Lia Shinsei walked the length of the rebuilt guild hall, her boots clicking against polished stone. New banners of Ostoria hung proudly, stitched overnight by volunteers who hadn't slept. The scent of new paint still clung to the walls, and the guild's crest shimmered faintly under the dawn light.
She paused by the window overlooking the main square. Dozens of adventurers were training already—some swinging swords, others repairing broken weapons, or helping townsfolk rebuild. But even with the sound of laughter and hammering, tension coiled beneath it all.
Everyone was waiting for the same thing.
The Dargath reinforcements had arrived. Two days earlier than expected.
---
By mid-morning, the sound of marching boots rolled through Korvath's gates like thunder. The Dargath banners—a silver dragon coiled around a black sun—fluttered as an armored convoy approached the square. They were soldiers through and through: disciplined, sharp, eyes forward, weapons gleaming. The townsfolk stepped aside with wary awe.
At their head rode General Varric Drayen, a mountain of a man draped in a dark military cloak. His face bore scars that looked like claw marks, his expression cold and unmoved. Behind him followed captains and squires, their armor blackened and ornate.
Lia stood at the guild's front steps beside Kouki Nozomi and Iroko Ryusei, her new superiors. Her newly awarded officer's badge felt heavy on her chest. She tried not to fidget.
Varric dismounted slowly, boots crunching against the stone. His eyes swept across the guild members, lingering on their worn armor and mismatched uniforms. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
> "So this is the Ostorian Guild," he said, his tone almost mocking. "The rumors were true. Adventurers—mercenaries—playing at leadership."
A murmur rippled among the Dargath soldiers. Lia clenched her fists.
> "You expect the knights of Dargath to take orders from… you?"
The insult hung in the air like a blade.
Iroko didn't answer. He simply looked at Kouki. And that was when Lia realized—the Guildmaster didn't need to raise his voice to command the room.
---
Kouki stepped forward, his cloak fluttering in the breeze. His eyes, cold silver beneath the morning sun, met Varric's with a calm that silenced the whispers.
> "We don't expect obedience," he said quietly. "Only understanding."
Varric tilted his head. "Understanding?"
> "The age of crowns is over," Kouki continued. "Only those who bleed for the people deserve to lead them."
The words hit like steel. Even the wind seemed to pause. Lia felt the hairs on her neck rise. The guild officers behind her straightened instinctively, as though a banner had just been raised above their heads.
Kouki took another step closer. "While kings hid behind walls, we buried our comrades in the mud. We are not nobles, General—we are survivors. And survivors are the only ones qualified to lead in an age of ruin."
Varric's men bristled. Hands touched sword hilts. But before the tension could boil over, Iroko's deep voice cut through the silence.
> "If Dargath finds our command unworthy," he said evenly, "you're free to leave our gates. But understand this: Ostoria will march—alone if we must. We bow to survival, not to titles."
Lia swallowed hard. Her pulse pounded in her ears. This was no mere political debate—it was a declaration of identity.
Varric's sharp eyes flicked between them. Then slowly, deliberately, he reached for his sword. The guild tensed—hands going to weapons—but he only unbuckled the blade and placed it on the table between them.
> "Perhaps," he said after a long silence, "your kind has earned the right to command… if only by your scars."
It wasn't surrender. It was acknowledgment.
Iroko gave a curt nod. "Then we stand together."
> "Joint command," Varric replied. "Your guild and my battalions. One front, one banner."
---
That afternoon, the two forces shared the same courtyard for the first time. Dargath soldiers drilled beside Ostorian adventurers, their rhythm different but their goal shared. The tension remained—it would for weeks—but something new had sparked: a grudging respect.
Lia stood near the training yard, watching as Ren Kyoujin exchanged tactical notes with a Dargath lieutenant. The sight was almost surreal.
"Never thought I'd see that," she muttered.
Beside her, Yaguro chuckled under his breath. "World's changing fast. Even faster than we can rebuild it."
Lia smiled faintly. "Maybe that's the point."
Later that evening, Kouki addressed both the guild and the Dargath soldiers from the steps of the central hall. His voice carried over the gathered crowd:
> "We stand not as rulers, but as shields. Our enemy doesn't care for crowns, nations, or titles. Only power. So we'll meet them with something greater—conviction."
His words rolled like thunder through the square.
Varric, standing at the edge of the crowd, gave a small, grudging nod.
And Lia—once just a receptionist behind a wooden desk—felt her chest tighten with pride. For the first time since the war began, she believed this world could be remade—not by kings, but by those who dared to survive it.
---
That night, she sat alone at her desk, pen scratching against parchment as candlelight flickered across the page.
> "If this is what the new world looks like," she wrote, "then maybe it's worth fighting for. Even if it means standing between the shadows of two empires."
Outside, the banners of Ostoria and Dargath fluttered side by side in the night wind.
Close enough to touch—
But never quite touching.