Chapter 18: The Founding Ceremony
The morning of the ceremony arrived cold and clear. Frost glittered on the warehouse windows like scattered diamonds. Inside, candles burned against the winter chill, arranged in patterns that Mira had designed and I had approved.
"Is this really necessary?" Tom asked, adjusting his cleanest shirt with obvious discomfort. "The formal ceremony, the witnesses—we're a guild of three people."
"Six, after today." I checked the main hall one final time. Tables arranged for guests. Simple refreshments—bread, cheese, watered wine—laid out near the entrance. The contract board polished until it gleamed. "And legitimacy matters. If we're just some teenagers playing at organization, nobody takes us seriously. If we're a formally recognized guild with public ceremonies, we become part of the system."
"Politics."
"Reality."
Kira appeared at the door, dressed in clothes that actually fit for once—a gift from Mira, probably. "The guests are arriving. Both guard captains and that merchant from the consortium."
"Good. And the recruits?"
"Waiting in the side room. Nervous as cats."
Tom moved to greet the arriving officials while I collected my thoughts. The three recruits we'd selected—Marcus the young fighter, Helena the former merchant's daughter, and a quiet man named Brennan who'd come from the training yard—represented our first major expansion. Each had been vetted personally. Each had agreed to the oath-binding without fully understanding what it entailed.
"This is where it becomes real. Not just the four of us anymore."
Mira caught my arm as I turned toward the main hall. "You've been planning this for weeks. What are you actually worried about?"
"What makes you think I'm worried?"
"Because I know you." She released my arm. "This is your project, Finn. Your vision. If it fails—"
"It won't fail."
"If it fails," she continued firmly, "you'll still have us. Tom and Kira and me. Whatever happens today doesn't change that."
I looked at her—really looked. The Aretuza reject who'd served tables six months ago. Now standing in guild headquarters she'd helped build, offering reassurance to the leader she'd chosen to follow.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just don't screw up the ceremony."
Marcus's Perspective
The guild hall felt too big for what it was.
I'd fought in riverside taverns for coin since I was fourteen. Brawls against drunk sailors, matches against other desperate fighters looking to eat that week. The mercenary company I'd trained with had dissolved when its captain took Nilfgaardian gold and left half his men behind. Now I was nineteen, skilled with a blade but too young for legitimate work.
And somehow, standing in this converted warehouse, I was about to join something that might actually matter.
Helena stood beside me, composed in a way that screamed former nobility. Her father's trading company had collapsed under debt, leaving her with education, skills, and no prospects. She'd been scraping by as a scribe when Kira found her.
Brennan was older—mid-thirties, scarred hands and a quiet intensity that suggested he'd seen real combat. He didn't talk much about his past. Nobody here did.
"You're nervous," Helena observed. Her voice was low, cultured. "Your hand keeps going to your sword hilt."
"Force of habit."
"It's just an oath. Words and promises."
"The leader said there's magic involved. Real magic."
"The leader is fifteen years old."
"The leader cleared a wraith nest and built this hall in three weeks." I met her eyes. "Age doesn't mean what it used to."
The door opened. The kid—Finn Colen, guild master, whatever that actually meant—entered with quiet authority. He moved like someone older, looked at things like he was calculating angles and outcomes simultaneously.
"Thank you for waiting," he said. "We're ready. If you'll follow me."
Finn's Perspective
The main hall was fuller than I'd expected.
Tom's invited guests occupied seats along the walls—the two guard captains who'd become cautious allies, a representative from the merchant consortium, several of Aldous's associates. They'd come out of curiosity more than support, but their presence would legitimize the ceremony.
Mira stood near the Heart Crystal's concealed position, ready to assist if anything went wrong. Kira watched from the shadows, her scout instincts making her uncomfortable with crowds.
I took my position at the hall's center and faced the three recruits.
"The Covenant of Blades," I began, "exists to strengthen those who join it. We take contracts others reject. We protect communities others ignore. We invest in potential others overlook." I met each recruit's eyes in turn. "You've been selected because you have qualities worth developing. In exchange for your loyalty and service, the guild offers training, resources, and belonging."
The formal words felt strange in my mouth—too rehearsed, too official. But ceremony required ceremony.
"The oath-binding is magical. You'll swear loyalty to the guild, and the guild will swear loyalty to you. Break faith, and there are consequences. Keep faith, and you gain family."
"What kind of consequences?" Helena asked. Her voice was steady, but her hands were clasped too tightly.
"Pain. Proportional to the betrayal." I kept my tone matter-of-fact. "The binding protects both sides. I can't abandon you without suffering the same penalty."
The recruits exchanged glances. This was the moment of decision—accept the unknown magic, or walk away with no hard feelings.
Marcus stepped forward first. "I'm in. Nothing to lose, everything to gain."
Helena followed. "As am I. Better strange magic than slow starvation."
Brennan simply nodded. Words weren't his strength.
I extended my hands. Marcus took one, Helena the other, and Brennan placed his palms over theirs.
"I, Finn Colen, Guild Master of the Covenant of Blades, accept your oaths and bind myself to your protection."
The words were mine, but the power came from elsewhere. The Heart Crystal pulsed beneath my feet—invisible to others but burning bright in my perception. Energy flowed through our joined hands, the oath-binding taking hold.
"Repeat after me: I swear loyalty to the Covenant of Blades, to serve its purpose, support its members, and uphold its honor."
They spoke the words. The magic responded.
Golden light erupted from our joined hands—visible to everyone, shocking the witnesses into silence. The binding settled into each recruit, connections forming that I could feel through the system interface. Three new threads joining the web that connected Mira, Tom, Kira, and myself.
[OATH BINDING: COMPLETE]
[New Members: Marcus (Combat), Helena (Administration), Brennan (Training)]
[Guild Membership: 6/10]
[Phase 1 Progression: 85%]
[Commission System: ACTIVATED]
[Base Rate: 10% of member earnings from guild-facilitated contracts]
The light faded. The recruits staggered slightly, adjusting to the new sensations. The witnesses murmured among themselves—they'd come expecting a formality, and they'd received genuine magic.
"Welcome to the Covenant," I said. "We're glad to have you."
Helena's Perspective
The binding felt like nothing I'd expected.
Magic, in my limited experience, was cold and clinical—sorceresses manipulating forces they barely understood, paying prices they rarely acknowledged. This was different. Warmth spreading through my chest. Connection to people I'd barely met, somehow knowing they were there without seeing them.
"This is real. Whatever this guild is, whatever this boy is doing, it's real."
The ceremony concluded with toasts and congratulations. The witnesses departed with new stories to spread—the Covenant of Blades had magic backing its oaths, genuine supernatural binding that made its promises enforceable. Word would spread through merchant circles, through guard barracks, through every level of Oxenfurt society.
Legitimacy. The young guild master had manufactured legitimacy through spectacle and genuine power.
I found him afterward, alone in the main hall as evening shadows lengthened.
"That was calculated," I said. "The witnesses, the visible magic, the formal ceremony. You wanted them to see."
"I wanted them to believe." He was reviewing papers—contracts, expenses, plans. "Belief creates opportunity. If people think we're legitimate, they treat us as legitimate. Eventually, the perception becomes reality."
"And if the perception fails?"
"Then we'll have built enough actual substance to survive the disappointment." He looked up at me. "You have questions."
"Many."
"Ask one."
"What are you actually building? Not the speech about helping communities—the real goal. The one you don't tell recruits about."
He was quiet for a moment. Weighing how much truth to share.
"I'm building something that can survive what's coming," he said finally. "Wars. Monsters. Threats that most people don't even know exist yet. The world is going to get worse before it gets better, and when it does, organizations like ours will be the difference between civilization surviving and civilization ending."
"You sound like a prophet."
"I sound like someone who's paying attention." He returned to his papers. "Get some rest, Helena. Tomorrow, the real work begins."
I left him there, surrounded by plans and possibilities.
"Either he's completely insane or completely right. And I'm not sure which would be worse."
Finn's Perspective
The interface glowed softly in the darkness of my quarters.
[GUILD STATUS: COVENANT OF BLADES]
[Guild Master: Finn Colen]
[Level: 6]
[Phase: 1 (Foundation) - 85% Complete]
[Guild Points: 5,350]
[Energy Pool: 500/500]
[Members: 6/10]
[- Mira Voss (Mage/Administrator)]
[- Tomasz Radek (Intelligence/Connections)]
[- Kira (Scout/Intelligence)]
[- Marcus (Combat)]
[- Helena (Administration)]
[- Brennan (Training/Combat)]
[Outpost: Oxenfurt Headquarters]
[- Heart Crystal: Active]
[- Contract Board: Operational]
[- Member Capacity: 10]
[Commission: 10% (Active)]
[Outstanding Debts: 25 crowns (6 weeks remaining)]
[Active Threats: Grevik's Iron Wolves (monitoring)]
Six members. One headquarters. Debts, enemies, and endless work ahead.
But also: a foundation. Something real that could grow into something greater.
The winter wind rattled the windows. Somewhere below, my guild members were settling into their new lives—the first night in a home they'd helped build, bound by oaths that meant something.
"This is just the beginning. Phase 1 isn't even complete yet. The real challenges haven't started."
I dismissed the interface and lay down on my cot. Sleep came slowly, fragmented with half-formed plans and the weight of responsibility.
Tomorrow, the first real contracts would begin. Tomorrow, the guild would prove whether it could actually function as an organization rather than a collection of desperate people.
Tomorrow, the Covenant of Blades would start earning its name.
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