Chapter 20: Complications

“Why?” Lydia asked, furrowing her brows.

The dwarf’s answer was to collapse onto the creaky wooden floor, face-first and snoring.

“It’s because of the rails,” said a new voice, crisp and confident, from the top of the stairs.

I turned just as she descended. Silver hair framed her face, and she wore armor light enough for movement, but with enough metal to deter a careless blade. Her skirt was short, pleated, and oddly ceremonial. It reminded me of something Roman. Ancient warrior chic, if that was a thing.

Lydia’s expression softened as she greeted her. “Irene!”

Ah, the ankle lady. That one debate between feet and ankles came rushing back like an intrusive memory. Of course, she had the confidence to show them off.

“What do you mean by rails?” Lydia asked.

Irene stepped down the last stair, then joined us. “The Kingdom of Movria entered talks about building a rail system connecting them to the Empire. And guess what? Enmar is one of the first in line. A year later, the project’s nearly done. Rails from the Empire are stretching straight through Enmar and onward, linking the outer states, the capital, and everything in between.”

I blinked, digesting that. “Is that bad?” I asked plainly.

Neither woman responded right away. Lydia looked unusually tense, the crease between her brows deepening. Eventually, she led us to a corner of the adventurer’s hall, pulling out a rickety chair for me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, easing onto it.

Irene arched an eyebrow at Lydia. “What’s that for?”

Lydia waved her off. “Don’t mind me. Anything you want to drink or eat? It’s on me.”

“Are you sure?” Irene asked, skeptical. “Didn’t you quit adventuring? Shouldn’t you be pinching every coin for the orphans you’re raising?”

Lydia glanced at me.

I shrugged. “Feel free to spend it however you like.”

Truthfully, I was glad to see her so unbothered. The money she had now, converted from the gold bars I had someone anonymously left, might’ve been called blood money back in my world. Where I came from, some people refused to touch dirty money, afraid it might tank there karma score or something. But Lydia didn’t seem to care. Maybe she thought it was better used helping the kids.

After calling over the half-dozing barmaid, she ordered two mugs of beer and some squid-like snacks that looked vaguely like calamari if you squinted hard enough. Once served, Irene immediately downed half her mug like a woman in need of courage.

“So,” Lydia began, “what’s this about the adventurers being kicked out of Enmar? Isn’t the Guild Master doing anything?”

Irene wiped foam from her lips and gave a bitter laugh. “I think he’s given up.”

Lydia leaned forward, concerned. “So there’s an actual eviction order already?”

“Not officially,” Irene said. “I wouldn’t even say the lord’s being aggressive about it. No soldiers dragging people out. No tax hikes or curfews. But it doesn’t matter. The writing’s on the wall. Everyone’s leaving anyway.”

She took another gulp before continuing, voice more serious now. “The rail system will allow elite soldiers and Imperial officers to travel quickly between cities. Lords won’t need local adventurers anymore, not when they can call in trained, uniformed specialists to deal with monster threats or dungeon infestations. That means the Guild loses relevance. And without monster hunts, the biggest source of income dries up fast.”

Irene picked at the edge of her squid dish. “The non-combat jobs, the rare courier runs, escort gigs, and odd requests? They’re still around, but there’s no competition anymore. Prices drop, commissions tank, and the remaining work’s not enough to keep most adventurers fed. Worse, multiple parties went missing last month. Some say they got wiped out. Others think they just skipped town to get ahead of the coming collapse.”

She gave a sardonic snort. “To top it off, the lord’s offering a ‘stipend’—a small cash incentive—for any registered adventurer who voluntarily leaves the city. No eviction notice, just… a nudge out the door.”

Lydia’s mouth pulled into a tight frown. “That’s premature, isn’t it? What if a monster stampede happens?”

I glanced around the guild, half-empty, dimly lit, and echoing with the snores of passed-out has-beens. I wondered if anyone here would even be in fighting shape if something like a ‘monster stampede occurred.

“Premature?” Irene echoed Lydia’s concern, taking another swig from her mug. “I thought so too. But the lord’s adamant. He’s been pushing this plan for months. Said Enmar’s crawling with shady figures… smugglers, bounty jumpers, and worse. And he claims the Adventurer’s Guild is a breeding ground for their kind.”

Lydia scoffed. “If he wants to tackle crime, he should’ve started with the slums. Not the place where people are just trying to scrape by.”

Irene leaned back, arms crossed as she looked around the run-down hall with some unspoken disgust. “I think it’s more than crime. The way he talked, he’s worried about spies. Imperial spies, maybe. Or worse, spies from rival kingdoms. Anyone who could sour Movria’s budding alliance with the Empire. He doesn’t want loose elements hanging around.”

I sat there, quietly fascinated. This kind of talk felt like peeling the veil off a conspiracy thriller, where backroom deals and political plays happened between gulps of beer and fried squid. I had to admit, I was enjoying the view into the political mess that I was previously too dead or too distracted to notice.

But then again, we weren’t here for a political debrief, as fun as it was to listen in. I cleared my throat. “Hey, Lydia, I hope you haven’t forgotten—”

Irene cut in sharply, her eyes suddenly narrowing, “But you know what I think? Witchspawn.”

I immediately shut up. My tongue retreated to the back of my throat, and my mouth went dry.

“Forget about me, Lydia,” I blurted hastily, “Ask her about the witchspawn. Just… ask.”

Lydia gave me a sideways frown but followed through. “What about it?”

Irene tapped a finger against the rim of her mug. “Religious institutions? They hate witches to their core. That’s no surprise. But some countries have… mixed views. Movria used to ignore them. The Empire, on the other hand? They were oddly liberal and interested in witches, maybe even a bit fascinated. But that’s changed.”

Irene leaned forward, voice lowering. “A few days ago, everything shifted. The Empire’s tone flipped. Now they’re condemning witches outright. Hunting them. Word is, they’re searching for a little girl with silver hair. A witchspawn.”

My stomach dropped. The walls of the guild suddenly felt too close, like they were leaning in on me.

“Now, I know silver hair isn’t that common, but it should be easier to narrow them down, since it could be quite eye-catching,” Irene went on, too calmly, “Heck, I have a silver hair myself… According to my intel, that girl might be here. In Enmar.”

Fuck.

I was already halfway out of my seat when my chair toppled behind me with a wooden clatter. I didn’t bother apologizing for it. I bolted for the door.