“So, let’s begin!”

  I grinned, my voice ringing through the chamber, filled with the same energy as someone about to kick off a festival rather than conduct an imperial ceremony. Lola gave a small nod to the guards by the doors, who immediately moved into action.

  The heavy wooden doors groaned open, the hinges letting out a faint creak, and they marched in. Alma led the way, her posture flawless, the very embodiment of a leader forged in discipline.

  Uhm… I picked her at random. Why is she so competent?

  Behind her, ten soldiers walked in a formation. No, not walking, but marching, each step measured, their boots striking the stone floor in unison, sending a faint reverberation through the air. Their armor gleamed under the magic torchlight, a striking silvery-green, the same as I saw earlier.

  So, across their backs, inscribed into the upper half of their curved pauldrons, was a bold engraving of a snowflake crest, the icy silver stark against the deep green.

  The room was silent, save for the measured footfalls as they took their places, forming a semi-circle before the throne.

  As if guided by an unspoken command, they all dropped to one knee, heads bowed in synchronized respect. A slow, anticipatory hush swept through the chamber. All eyes were on me.

  Oh… damn.

  I had been so caught up in their entrance and their display that my mind went blank. Lola’s quill hovered dangerously over her notes, as if ready to scribble down whatever disaster was about to leave my mouth.

  I swallowed.

  Then, by sheer force of self-preservation, I opened my mouth. “Let me welcome… my new personal guard!” Not exactly the formal declaration befitting a noble appointing their most trusted warriors, but hey… I got words out.

  I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and tried again. I could practically hear the imperial attaché internally combusting somewhere behind me, so I at least had to make an effort.

  I took a slow breath and lifted my chin. “You have stepped forward, not as mere soldiers, but as my chosen shield—sworn to protect, to uphold, and to stand unwavering in the face of what comes.” I caught Alma’s slight nod of approval, barely noticeable, but it gave me confidence to continue. “With your blades, my will shall be enforced.”

  I could almost feel NightSwallow smirking in the crowd at that one, but I ignored it. “With your armor, my throne shall remain unbroken.” Alright, I was on a roll now. The days spent in the imperial palace weren’t in vain. I took one step forward, my gaze lowering over them.

  “Rise. As the first of my personal guard. As the ones who will stand at my side.” Slowly, in perfect unison, they stood. “And, for the record… If any of you try to stab me, I will personally make sure it’s the worst mistake of your life.”

  Laughter broke out, and I clapped my hands together. “Alright! I want to grant you-”

  I didn’t even get to finish my next words before the heavy creak of the doors interrupted me. The room stilled, heads turning toward the entrance just as Lisa rushed in, wrapped in flowing ceremonial robes that looked entirely too extravagant for someone who had just barged into my event late.

  Katherine trailed right behind her, her steps quieter, but no less hurried. “Are we late?” Lisa’s voice rang through the chamber. I let out a long sigh. They didn’t decline to come. They were just late, probably because of that not-a-dragon.

  Protocol dictated that I was supposed to ignore them completely, as if they didn’t exist, but honestly? That was boring. So I simply nodded at her, and said, “Yes, Guildleader Lisa. You are late.”

  A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. But Lisa, being Lisa, just flashed me a winning smile and joined the line of other attendees, entirely unbothered. As she moved, my eyes locked onto Rob in the crowd, who had conveniently found something interesting to look at on the floor.

  “Your stand-in was causing problems,” I announced, my voice carrying through the room. A few more murmurs, a few knowing grins were exchanged, but I didn’t wait for a response. I turned back toward Alma and my personal guards, letting the moment settle.

  Now, back to business.

  “As my personal guards,” I began, projecting my voice, “you have been granted the best weapons and armor available. But to show my gratitude…” I let the words linger, shifting slightly as I reached into my inventory. “I bestow upon the leader of my guard this weapon.”

  I had found this sword during my completely legitimate, definitely-not-unlawful tour of a coastal armory. It wasn’t some ancient relic meant to gather dust in a Twir vault. It was functional, well-forged, and would serve Alma well.

  I pulled the sword from my inventory, and it materialized into existence, solidifying in my grasp with a faint pulse of magic.

  The blade was battle-ready, its steel a deep, burnished gray, forged with folded layers that shimmered subtly under the magic torchlight. The crossguard curved slightly upward, its edges engraved with faint runes that pulsed with a soft, silvery-blue glow and the hilt was wrapped in blue leather, ensuring a firm grip.

  “Let this be a sword that protects me from now to eternity!” I cringed. The words felt awkwardly theatrical, but unfortunately, these things had to be said for the system to—

  The sword flashed.

  A brilliant surge of light pulsed outward, wrapping around the blade like a whispered promise of power. The system acknowledged the bond. I grinned and turned back to Alma, who was still kneeling before me.

  “Rise…” I paused, glancing at the sword’s new name. The description flickered before my eyes. What? For a moment, I considered giving her another one, but eh, what’s done is done. I let out a breath and finished, “Rise, Alma, my High Warden!”

  Alma stood smoothly, her movements as disciplined, but I caught the slight tightening of her jaw, the glint of pride in her eyes. I handed her the blade, sharing the details of its stats with everyone in the room.

  Why not boast a little?

  The name had changed, so had the crest. The system had made it official. Alma tightened her grip on the sword, giving a brief, sharp nod before stepping back into formation, now fully cemented in her role, the personal guards spreading through the room, but she stayed close to me with pride in her eyes.

  I tilted my head, satisfied, then clapped my hands together. “Alright! Who’s next?”

  Lola let out a small, nervous cough, then scurried toward me, her quill clutched as she whispered, “Lady, now the royal company.”

  I glanced at her, then at the expectant crowd, and flashed her a quick grin. “Ah, sure.” Turning back to the gathering, I clasped my hands together, making sure I had their full attention. “Apparently, it’s now time for the royal company!”

  A few chuckles flew around the crowd, but I continued, lifting the parchment Lola had practically shoved into my hands. “We’ll go through the list of people who have preliminarily agreed.” I waved the paper a little. “But hey, no pressure. I won’t be forcing you to accept! If you want to go your own way, there’s no bad blood between us.”

  I let my gaze sweep over them, my smirk just a little mischievous. “But!” I dragged out the word dramatically, glancing down at the list, and—

  I gasped.

  Lola actually flinched. I flicked my gaze back to the crowd, my tone shifting into something bordering on scandalized amusement. “You’ll be missing—twenty percent! That’s how much of an experience boost you get if you join the company!”

  A ripple of murmurs broke out instantly and a few people in the crowd visibly tensed, exchanging glances, some muttering in hushed tones. I could already see the math running in their heads. Then I added, just to twist the knife further, I finished with, “the guild gets ten percent, on top of your guild’s one.”

  Players shifting uneasily, whispering to each other, mentally weighing their choices. And then, slowly, my stare slid toward Relando. And that bastard smiled at me. Smiled. A slow, knowing, smug-as-hell smile.

  I shivered.

  Before I could say anything to wipe that look off his face, I turned back toward the rowdier crowd and nodded at Lola. She handed me another parchment with a very carefully prepared speech—because, clearly, she didn’t trust me to keep things formal.

  As she did, she whispered something to herself, but I caught it. “You got this!” Then she inhaled, and, in what was, for Lola, practically shouting, she announced, “Let me introduce Tramar!”

  I blinked.

  Who?

  A man in a flowing blue robe stepped forward, grinning at the mention of his name. He dusted off his sleeves, walking toward the throne with an easy confidence, his hood still drawn over his head. Wait a minute. That robe. That posture. I narrowed my eyes.

  The moment he reached the steps, he pulled back his hood, revealing short blonde hair and a cheeky smirk. “Long time no see.”

  Oh. Him. I blinked again, recognition clicking into place. “Uh. Yes. It’s been… a few days.” I recovered quickly, straightening. “Tramar, the fire mage.”

  His grin widened.

  “Do you accept to honor the company’s rules? To fight in the name of…” I hesitated, glancing briefly at Lola, who was practically glowing with excitement. She was already nodding, mouthing ‘kingdom’ at me. I sighed and went with it. “To fight in the name of the kingdom with honor?”

  “Yup.” No hesitation. He nodded with a boyish grin.

  Well. That was easy. I had nothing prepared for him. Somehow I forgot he existed, just a vague memory of him helping Katherine fight that Blobrg, which was definitely not something I wanted to relive right now.

  Still, I had a ton of gear sitting in my inventory in a junk pile. Okay, while it wasn’t some grand relic, it was still better than most things available I picked… On my travels. “Alright.” I put the paper down, mirroring his grin. “As a gift for joining us, and as long as you stay—”

  I swiped through my inventory, scanning for something that fit.

  Something good for a mage.

  Something worthy of a proper sendoff.

  Something that would make a statement.

  “—I will give you this.” And with a flick of my wrist, the item materialized, glowing faintly in my palm. “Uhm…”

  It wasn’t the best-looking thing ever. It was a magic hat, but a faded, pointy old thing, its once-deep blue fabric now a patchwork of fraying seams and mismatched repairs. Stubbornly bent at the tip, it had haphazardly sewn patches in various colors that clashed horribly, making it look like a discarded souvenir from an eccentric wizard’s closet.

  The edges curled unevenly, worn from years of neglect, while a faint scent of dust and regret clung to the material. Despite its shabby, thrift-store appearance, it hummed with faint magical energy, though whether in defiance or sheer spite was anyone’s guess.

  I grimaced at the thing, then hurled it at Tramar before anyone else could see it. “Here. Yours now.” No need to share the info screen—this wasn’t exactly a crowning achievement in magical artifacts.

  Tramar caught it effortlessly, eyebrows raised in mild amusement, then, without hesitation, plopped it onto his head.

  And then… The transformation hit like a spell cast in reverse.

  The fraying seams stitched themselves back together. The old fabric deepened into a rich, midnight blue, absorbing the light with a subtle, velvety sheen. The once-pathetic bend at the tip straightened, forming a proud, elegant arch, while faint golden embroidery unraveled along the brim, delicate yet intricately woven in looping arcane symbols.

  Tiny gems flickered into existence along the band, glinting softly like starlight, and the hat—no longer just an old, battered relic—settled into place like it had always belonged to him.

  “Huh?” I turned to Tramar, my brow furrowing. “Do… you like it?”

  He opened his mouth, and then immediately shut it, as if words failed him. Instead, his hand flicked, and the system window popped up in front of everyone of us, shimmering faintly in the air.

  I squinted at it. The +2% magic power it had before was nothing special—a mild boost, a polite nod of usefulness at best. But now? Now it was ridiculous. A 15% boost to magic power? Even legendary-tier artifacts would be glad to tie that number.

  Across the chamber, Lisa let out a laugh, arms crossed as she tilted her head toward us. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, her voice more amused than envious. “Magic power is applied before all the other bonuses! That’s broken!”

  She wasn’t wrong. That meant Tramar’s raw spell damage would now be multiplying every other modifier he had—turning what should’ve been a modest enhancement into legendary damage.

  And Tramar knew it.

  With zero hesitation, he turned on his heel and pranced, yes, pranced, back to where he had been standing before, his movements exaggerated, deliberate, absolutely obnoxious. He made sure everyone saw the way the hat caught the light, how the golden embroidery shimmered, how the gem-encrusted band reflected a subtle, enchanting glow.

  A few players in the crowd grumbled, someone muttered “show-off,” but most just laughed, shaking their heads. Lisa was flat-out grinning, arms folded as she leaned toward Katherine and whispered something that made the latter stifle a giggle.

  Tramar did not stop until he was back in his original spot, settling into a casual stance with an air of feigned innocence, as if he hadn’t just spent an entire thirty seconds basking in his own magnificence.

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose so hard I might as well have been trying to erase reality. “Okay.” I turned to the list in my hands, resolutely ignoring the smug aura radiating off Tramar like an overcharged beacon.

  “Who’s next?”