Chapter 25: The Divided Guilds

The man led the old man through the winding streets of the city, toward the district where the guilds met. The path grew increasingly dark as they approached the large stone buildings that housed the various factions. The guilds, each with their own history and traditions, were like small fortresses within the city, and the old man could feel the tension in the air, as if the walls were thick with distrust and rivalry.

When they reached the first guild, the man stopped and pointed to a large wooden door reinforced with iron. "This is the Merchants' Guild," he said, his tone of voice mingling with respect and awe. "They are powerful, controlling much of the city's economy, but they are worried that war will ruin their business. They have been adamant about allying themselves with the other guilds."

The old man nodded, understanding the nature of the situation. The merchants were focused on protecting their interests, and this made them cautious and reluctant to join forces with others, fearing that any alliance would jeopardize their profits.

The man knocked on the door, and after a few moments of waiting, it creaked open with a heavy creak. A finely dressed but armed guard eyed the visitors suspiciously.

"What do you want?" the guard asked, his disdain unmistakable.

"This is the man I spoke of," the chronicler said, gesturing to the old man beside him. "He wishes to speak with the guild leader. It is of utmost importance."

The guard gave the old man an appraising look before finally relenting and allowing them to enter. The halls of the guild were adorned with luxurious carpets and polished wooden furniture, but there was a tense silence in the air, as if the people present were waiting for something bad to happen.

They were led into a large room where the leader of the merchants, a middle-aged man with graying hair and opulent robes, sat in a high chair, surrounded by other guild members. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the old man, but he maintained a neutral expression.

"What brings you to our guild?" the leader asked, getting straight to the point.

The old man stepped forward, feeling all eyes on him. "I have come seeking peace," he replied calmly. "The city is on the brink of a conflict that could destroy it. I know the merchants have much to lose, but if the guilds remain divided, there will be no city to protect."

The leader of the merchants crossed his arms in thought. "And what do you suggest? That we join forces with those who could easily betray us to protect their own interests?"

"I suggest we put aside our differences, at least until the greater threat has passed," the old man said, his voice firm and resolute. "If the city falls, everyone will lose—merchants, artisans, soldiers. But if you band together, there is a chance to survive and prosper." The merchants exchanged glances, some visibly suspicious, others pondering the old man's words. After a long moment of silence, the leader finally spoke. "You are known for your wise words and courageous actions," he said. "We will consider your proposal. But know that trusting others in times like these is risky. However, if your words can secure the unity of the other guilds, perhaps we can reach an agreement." The old man nodded, pleased with the progress. It was a small step, but an important one in the right direction. He knew the other guilds would be equally difficult to convince, but he was determined to try. With a nod, he and the chronicler left the merchant guild, ready to face the next challenge. As they stepped out onto the streets again, the chronicler looked at the old man with newfound admiration. "Do you really believe you can unite these guilds?"

"I believe it's worth a try," the old man replied with a slight smile. "Sometimes all we need is a reason to believe."

And with that belief, they moved on, towards the next guild, where another step would be taken in the attempt to save the city from self-destruction.