"Richard."
He lifts his eyes from Maela's clipboard.
"I need a closed wagon in two days. Nothing flashy. Good suspension, room for crates, a discreet driver. If it can pass for ordinary material transport, even better."
Richard writes it down before answering. "I can manage that. I'll need money to reserve it."
I look at him a second longer than I mean to. "You've never been in a guild?"
The question seems to bother him less than I expect. Richard just props the clipboard against the table and breathes through his nose, like a man returning to an old part of his own life.
"Not as a member. I've run with squads. Small group, trench work, escort, area clearing. Temporary things." He glances at Zoe, who's helping Maela sort new labels at a distant table. "Guilds I avoided. Too much politics. Too many hidden fees. I had a daughter to raise."
That makes sense.
In Thirstfall, a guild can be a shelter or a trap. Sometimes both, switching function to suit whoever holds the contract.
