Hog walked along the stone-paved path of Golden Cross Avenue in the Royal Capital.
Behind him followed more than fifty apprentices, carrying tool bags filled with chisels, plumb bobs, and folding rulers.
Their destination was Flower Hall, where they planned to pledge themselves to the lord from the south.
The group had just turned a corner when several people emerged from an alley. Leading them were two guild deacons, stone ruler insignias pinned to their chests.
They blocked the path.
One of the deacons, a forced smile on his face, walked straight into the group and clapped a young apprentice on the shoulder.
"Young Tim, what do you think you're doing? Hog's gotten old, his mind's gone soft. Are you going to join him in this foolishness?"
"Go back. The guild president said if you return now, you'll immediately be promoted to a third-rank artisan, with a thirty percent raise."
Tim's face flushed red as he violently flung the man's hand away.
