The Guild headquarters stood near the base of the Tower of Babel.
From morning until night, the enormous building remained crowded with adventurers, merchants, and representatives of countless Familias.
People streamed through its doors carrying sacks of magic stones, mission reports, and information brought back from the Dungeon.
Hundreds of conversations overlapped with the constant rhythm of footsteps, creating a bustle that never truly ceased.
Yet the moment Alice stepped through the entrance, part of that noise died down.
The captain of the Astraea Familia was well known throughout Orario—for her strength, her courage, and her habit of throwing herself into danger whenever someone needed help, regardless of what waited on the other side.
Today, however, the gazes did not remain on her for long.
They shifted toward the young man walking beside her.
The black-violet coat with its understated silver trim made Lelouch look far more like the son of some foreign noble house than a newly minted adventurer.
If not for the Guild registration form tucked beneath the documents in his arms, few would have guessed that he had received Falna only the previous night.
Behind them, Lyra struggled beneath three stacks of documents tall enough to nearly hide her face.
“I have a question,” the Prum girl said.
“Why is the person who insisted we needed all these papers not carrying them himself?”
“Because my arms are barely functional after this morning’s training.”
“I trained too!”
“You were not three laps behind everyone else.”
“That explanation does absolutely nothing to make me feel better!”
Alice turned around with a bright smile.
“Hang in there, Lyra.
If the negotiation goes well, I’ll buy you sweets.”
“With your money or the Familia’s?”
“Uh…”
“Not the Familia’s,” Lyra said flatly.
Lelouch sighed.
“I’m beginning to understand how the accounts have survived this long despite having Alice as captain.”
Lyra peeked around the documents.
“Are you complimenting me or insulting Alice?”
“Both, in the same sentence.”
“I can hear you!”
Their bickering ended when they reached the reception counter.
The female Guild employee behind it looked up at Alice and offered a professional smile.
“Welcome, Miss Alice.
Are you here to submit a patrol report today?”
“Actually, we’re here to discuss the patrol work itself.”
“If you’re requesting an expansion of your assigned area, you can fill out—”
“Not an expansion,” Lyra cut in.
“We’re here about compensation.”
The clerk’s smile stiffened for the briefest moment.
“Compensation…
for which work?”
“Patrols.
Disaster relief.
Apprehending criminals without active bounties.
And every other public-service operation for which the Guild provides information and leaves the Astraea Familia to handle the matter.”
Only then did the clerk turn her full attention toward Lelouch.
“My apologies.
You are…?”
“Lelouch.
A provisional member of the Astraea Familia, authorized to present and negotiate a new agreement with the Guild.”
He placed a letter bearing Astraea’s signature and seal on the counter.
The clerk looked from the divine seal to Lelouch’s face several times.
“You only just joined the Familia…
and you’ve already been authorized to negotiate on its behalf?”
“The length of my membership has no bearing on the validity of the document.”
“That is true, but we don’t have a standard form for this kind of request.”
“Because the Guild has never created one?”
Lelouch tilted his head slightly.
“Or because no one has ever demanded one before?”
The clerk opened her mouth.
Then apparently decided that not answering would be the wiser choice.
“Please wait a moment.
I’ll ask the head of the Mission Department to meet with you.”
“Does that person possess the authority to approve an annual budget?”
“No, but he can receive the proposal and forward it—”
“Then we would prefer to meet someone who can make the decision from the beginning.”
Lelouch’s tone remained impeccably courteous.
“Explaining the same information to three different levels of officials would waste both our time and yours.”
Every word was polite.
None of them left much room for a convenient refusal.
The clerk looked toward Alice as though asking for help.
The red-haired captain gave an awkward smile.
“He’s just like this.”
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“That’s the part I’m worried about,” Lyra muttered.
After messages were relayed through two separate officials and they waited for roughly twenty minutes, the three were escorted to a meeting room on the third floor.
Waiting inside was a heavyset elf in formal Guild attire.
Royman Mardeel.
The head of the Guild in Orario.
A man responsible for overseeing the Dungeon economy, relations among the city’s Familias, and the security of a metropolis filled with people capable of superhuman violence.
Beside him sat the head of the Budget Department and a female clerk prepared to record the proceedings.
Royman’s gaze passed over Alice and Lyra before settling on Lelouch.
“I heard the Astraea Familia sent someone who has been a member for less than a day to negotiate its budget.”
“That information is correct.”
“An unusual choice.”
“If my proposal is unreasonable, having belonged to the Familia longer would not make it better.”
Lelouch met his eyes.
“If it is reasonable, then the duration of my membership should not be used as an excuse to dismiss it.”
Royman’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Sit.”
Alice took the chair to Lelouch’s right as captain.
Lyra sat to his left and began arranging the documents.
Lelouch did not speak immediately.
Instead, he observed.
The seating arrangement.
The papers in front of the opposing side.
The exits.
The posture of each official.
Royman was the decision-maker.
The Budget Department head would oppose any new expenditure by default; that was his function.
The recording clerk held no authority, but the words she chose to write could later become evidence.
There were no enemies in this room.
Only three people who needed to be shown that accepting his proposal was the least costly option available.
A strange sense of familiarity passed through Lelouch’s mind.
A much larger council chamber.
Nobles seated in rows on either side.
A map of a nation whose name he could no longer remember.
And himself at the head of the table—
Giving orders in a voice no one dared contradict.
The vision shattered before he could grasp it.
Lelouch buried the pain beneath a calm expression.
Then he began.
“Over the past three months, the Astraea Familia has conducted one hundred and seventeen patrol operations.”
Lyra slid the first stack of records forward.
“Seventy-eight offenders apprehended.
No fewer than two hundred injured civilians assisted.
Nineteen major violent incidents prevented before they could escalate into widespread damage.”
A second stack followed.
“Direct expenditures—including recovery medicine, equipment repairs, transportation, food, and assistance paid to victims—total two million seven hundred and forty thousand Valis.”
Then a third.
“That figure does not include the labor value of Familia members or the risk to their lives.”
Lelouch folded his hands.
“If the Guild were required to replace that work with contracted adventurers, the estimated labor cost alone would exceed six million Valis over the same period.”
The Budget Department head shifted.
“That labor estimate is inflated.”
“Page thirteen uses the average mission compensation for adventurers of equivalent Level, multiplied by hours worked.”
Lelouch did not miss a beat.
“Every number was taken from the Guild’s own mission postings.”
He glanced toward the man.
“If you believe those rates are excessive, should I therefore conclude that the Guild itself has been overpaying adventurers?”
The man immediately opened the document.
Lelouch continued without changing pace.
“Conversely, had those nineteen incidents not been prevented, projected damage to homes, businesses, and civilians would have amounted to between twelve and thirty-one million Valis.”
He raised one finger.
“That estimate is deliberately conservative and does not include the loss of confidence in major trade routes.”
Royman clasped his hands together.
“Interesting figures.”
His gaze remained steady.
“However, the Astraea Familia performed that work voluntarily.
The Guild did not compel you.”
“Correct.”
The simplicity of the answer caused the Budget Department head—who had clearly prepared to press that point—to pause.
Lelouch had no reason to deny an obvious fact.
“The Guild does not compel them.”
His voice remained calm.
“It merely collects reports of crime, identifies high-risk areas, sends the information to the Astraea Familia, and allows them to absorb every associated cost because it knows they will not abandon civilians.”
“It is cooperation between the Guild and a Familia,” Royman replied.
“A relationship in which one side receives the benefit while the other bears the cost alone is not cooperation.”
Alice glanced at Lelouch.
The previous night, she had watched this young man stand before an adventurer’s sword without the strength to protect himself.
That morning, she had watched him run slower than everyone else.
Inside this room—
He was no longer the weakest person present.
No sword.
No Magic.
No superior Level.
And yet Lelouch controlled the rhythm of the entire conversation.
Royman finally asked,
“How much are you asking for?”
“Thirty million Valis per year, paid monthly.”
The Budget Department head nearly rose from his chair.
“Additionally, seventy percent reimbursement for recovery medicine and equipment repairs incurred during Guild-certified operations, plus a separate medical fund for members injured while performing public-service duties.”
“Thirty million?!
Impossible!”
“Replacing the labor alone would average twenty-four million annually.”
Lelouch’s expression did not change.
“And the value of damage prevented could exceed one hundred million.”
He leaned back slightly.
“I consider thirty million reasonable.”
“If we pay the Astraea Familia, every other Familia will demand the same!”
“If another Familia provides an equivalent level of public service, keeps auditable records, and accepts the same reporting standards…”
Lelouch looked directly at him.
“Why should they not receive support?”
Silence.
Royman’s expression became noticeably more serious.
“You’re proposing an entirely new system.”
“I’m proposing a one-year pilot program.”
Lelouch opened another document.
“The Astraea Familia will submit monthly reports listing personnel, hours worked, expenses, operational outcomes, and supporting testimony from those assisted.”
“The Guild may audit every record.”
“And if the results fail to justify the expenditure, the program may be terminated at the end of the trial period.”
“What prevents false incident reports designed to claim reimbursement?”
“Every mission must include either a Guild incident number or certification from a district officer.”
The answer came instantly.
“For emergencies where waiting for paperwork would endanger lives, a report must be filed within twenty-four hours with statements from no fewer than two witnesses.”
“Unnecessary use of recovery medicine?”
“Set reimbursement ceilings according to mission threat level and personnel deployed.
Anything above the ceiling requires separate justification.”
“Equipment already damaged before the mission?”
“Record its condition before deployment.
Reimburse only damage demonstrably caused during the operation.”
Every objection received an immediate answer.
Not merely because Lelouch was good at anticipating questions.
During the twenty minutes spent waiting downstairs, he had asked Lyra to list every argument the Guild had previously used to reject similar requests.
Then he had turned those objections—
Into safeguards inside his own proposal.
The harder the Budget Department searched for holes—
The more complete the contract appeared.
At last, Royman raised one hand and stopped his subordinate.
“Even if such a system were workable, thirty million is excessive.”
He leaned back.
“The Guild can offer eight million annually.
No additional reimbursement.”
Lyra nearly protested.
Lelouch raised one finger without taking his eyes off Royman.
“Eight million is less than the Astraea Familia’s actual expenses from the previous year and assigns no value whatsoever to labor.”
He shook his head.
“That does not solve the problem.”
“Ten million.”
“Twenty-eight million.
Sixty-five percent reimbursement.”
“Twelve million.
No weapon repairs.”
“Twenty-seven million.
Sixty percent reimbursement and full injury coverage.”
Alice’s eyes moved back and forth between them.
Millions of Valis crossed the table with the calm expressions of two merchants haggling over vegetables.
Lyra, meanwhile—
Had begun to understand.
Lelouch had never expected thirty million.
The opening figure had been placed high enough to pull the center of the negotiation upward.
And every time he reduced the headline amount—
He adjusted another condition to preserve the benefits that actually mattered.
“Fifteen million.
Half of medicine costs,” Royman offered.
“Twenty-five million.
Sixty percent of medicine and repairs, plus a separate medical fund.”
“Eighteen million.
Sixty percent medicine.
Routine repairs excluded.”
“Twenty-four million.”
Lelouch stopped.
“Seventy percent reimbursement for medicine and certified mission-related repairs.”
“A capped annual medical fund.”
“And full Guild audit rights every quarter.”
Royman fell silent.
It was the first time Lelouch had stopped lowering his number.
The Guild chief noticed.
“If I refuse?”
Alice held her breath.
Lelouch opened a thinner folder.
“Then the Astraea Familia will submit this report to every major Familia involved in maintaining Orario’s security.”
The recording clerk’s pen stopped.
“Copies have been prepared for the Loki Familia, Freya Familia, Ganesha Familia, Hephaestus Familia, Dian Cecht Familia, and the seven principal merchant associations.”
The Budget Department head’s expression changed immediately.
Royman remained still.
“Is that a threat against the Guild?”
“No.”
Lelouch slid the folder to the center of the table.
“It is notification of the next procedural step.”
He opened the draft letter.
“The document contains no false statements.”
“It does not accuse the Guild of violating any law.”
“And it does not ask any Familia to stop helping civilians.”
His voice never rose.
“It merely explains how the Guild distributes public-service incidents to Familias without compensation, documents the associated costs, and calculates how long the Astraea Familia can continue operating if the current arrangement remains unchanged.”
“Other Familias will demand money from us!” the Budget Department head said.
“If they discover that they are performing municipal responsibilities without support, what they choose to do with that information is their decision.”
“Merchant associations will question our budget management!”
“Citizens who pay fees possess the right to ask how those fees are used.”
“The Guild’s reputation will suffer!”
“The report does not cause that damage.”
Lelouch’s violet eyes remained perfectly calm.
“The practices recorded within it do.”
There was no red sigil in his eye.
No Geass.
No one in the room was being compelled.
Lelouch had simply placed every route on the table—
And made the cost of each one impossible to ignore.
“Suppose the Guild simply ignores your report,” Royman said.
“What then?”
“We continue helping civilians for as long as our resources permit.”
Lelouch folded his hands.
“And publish the accounts every month.”
“You intend to use Astraea’s reputation to pressure us.”
“That reputation was earned by her children risking their lives.”
His gaze sharpened.
“They have every right to use it to preserve their ability to continue doing so.”
Royman leaned back.
He understood the consequences far too well.
If the report reached Loki—
That goddess would gleefully turn it into a citywide spectacle.
If it reached Freya—
She might not care about such a modest sum of money, but she would never ignore an opportunity to improve her position against the Guild.
Ganesha would loudly proclaim the importance of public safety across half the city.
Hephaestus and Dian Cecht would inspect every figure involving equipment and medicine.
And the merchant associations would ask why they paid Guild fees when the actual cost of maintaining public order was being quietly transferred onto individual Familias. New chapters come out on novelping dot com first.
The Guild could endure the pressure.
But with dark factions already moving throughout Orario, cooperation between organizations was fragile enough.
The political cost would exceed twenty-four million Valis many times over.
“You already prepared the recipient list?” Royman asked.
“Along with draft letters and copies of the evidence.”
“Before knowing whether we would refuse?”
“Preparing for failure after it has already happened is rather pointless.”
Royman looked toward Alice.
“Your captain truly authorized all this?”
Alice, silent for most of the negotiation, straightened.
“I did.”
Her earlier uncertainty disappeared.
“We will never stop helping people just because we’re not being paid.”
She touched the repaired plate on her shoulder.
“But I also don’t want to keep watching my Familia enter battle in equipment that’s been repaired beyond what it should endure.”
Her expression hardened.
“Lelouch is right.”
“Justice shouldn’t require the people protecting it to break apart one by one.”
Lyra placed the actual account ledger on the table.
“And as the one responsible for the Familia’s money, I can confirm that if nothing changes, we won’t have enough reserves to properly stock medicine for everyone within six weeks.”
Royman looked down at the numbers again.
“Twenty million per year.”
He spoke at last.
“Sixty percent reimbursement for medicine and repairs.
Twelve-month pilot.”
“Twenty-four million under my latest terms.”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-four, with a six-month budget review.”
Lelouch leaned forward slightly.
“If operational performance falls below mutually agreed standards, the Guild may reduce payments during the second half of the year by no more than twenty percent.”
The Budget Department head immediately whispered something to Royman.
Lelouch allowed them to talk.
They were no longer deciding whether to accept.
They were deciding how to accept without appearing to have lost.
The outcome had already been decided.
Only the final conditions remained.
“Twenty-four million,” Royman said at last.
“Two million per month.”
“Seventy percent reimbursement for medicine and repairs, but only on missions with official Guild certification.”
“The medical fund is capped at three million annually.”
“Performance review after six months.”
Alice’s eyes widened.
Lyra clenched her skirt to keep from making a sound.
“One more condition,” Royman said.
“The report concerning this negotiation is not to be distributed to other Familias.”
“I cannot accept that.”
The room tightened again.
“The Guild is accepting your proposal.
Why publicize the matter?”
“To make the system auditable.”
Lelouch answered immediately.
“And to prevent this agreement from being interpreted as a secret privilege granted exclusively to the Astraea Familia.”
“If other Familias hear only rumors, they will wonder what we exchanged for preferential treatment.”
“You want the amount published?”
“Yes.”
“Along with all eligibility and performance standards.”
“That may generate many similar petitions.”
“Then the Guild should publicly identify this as a pilot program and allow other Familias to submit operational data for future evaluation.”
Lelouch’s expression remained composed.
“Transparency will allow you to manage expectations far more effectively than secrecy.”
Royman stared at him for several seconds.
“Do you intend to win every point?”
“No.”
Lelouch’s face remained perfectly serious.
“I have already reduced my opening request by six million Valis.”
Lyra immediately lowered her head to hide her smile.
Even the recording clerk’s lips twitched.
Royman let out a long sigh.
“The Guild will issue a joint statement describing this as an experimental public-service support program.”
“The wording must be approved by both parties before release.”
“Agreed.”
“And if you deliberately falsify operational data even once, I will terminate the contract immediately.”
“If the Guild deliberately conceals reimbursable expenses or rejects mission certification without reasonable cause, the Astraea Familia reserves the right to publish the evidence and withdraw from the program.”
Royman looked exhausted.
“Add it.”
The contract was rewritten and reviewed for nearly another hour.
Lelouch read every line.
He replaced may consider with must review within seven days.
He replaced vague phrases such as reasonable expenses with explicit numerical ceilings.
He added a clause establishing provisional approval if the Guild failed to respond before the deadline.
Every time the officials attempted to leave a convenient ambiguity—
Lelouch quietly closed it.
At last, Royman’s signature, Alice’s signature, and the seals of both organizations were placed on the agreement.
The Astraea Familia had secured twenty-four million Valis per year in public-service funding.
Enough to purchase medicine.
Enough to repair equipment.
Enough to endure smaller emergencies without wondering whether the next month’s food would vanish from the table.
Not enough to make the Familia wealthy.
But enough that its justice no longer needed to stand permanently at the edge of a cliff.
As the meeting ended, Royman stopped Lelouch before he reached the door.
“Young man.”
Lelouch turned.
“Yes?”
“Where did Astraea find someone like you?”
“In the forest outside the city!” Alice answered cheerfully.
“I picked him up myself!”
Royman stared at her.
Then at Lelouch.
“I’ll be watching you.”
“That is your right.”
Lelouch paused at the doorway.
“But if you intend to investigate me, please use the Guild’s own budget.”
His smile was faint.
“Do not transfer that expense to the Astraea Familia as well.”
The door closed.
From inside—
Someone in the Budget Department choked on his tea.
The moment the three descended past the third-floor staircase, Alice threw both arms into the air.
“We did it!”
Her voice made half the building turn around.
“Please don’t announce the amount here,” Lelouch warned.
“Twenty-four million!”
“I quite literally just asked you not to announce it.”
Lyra hugged the contract copy to her chest.
Her eyes shone more brightly than when she looked at gold.
“Two million a month…
seventy percent medicine and repairs…
separate medical coverage…”
She began muttering through a rapidly growing list.
“Replace Alice’s shoulder plate.
Repair Kaguya’s scabbard.
Three complete emergency potion reserves.
Replace Neze’s bag.
Fix the western roof…”
Lelouch turned.
“The roof leaks too?”
“Only during heavy rain,” Alice replied.
“That means the roof leaks.”
“We put buckets underneath.”
“That is not a repair.”
Lyra laughed.
“Give up, Lelouch.
Teaching this Familia financial discipline may take longer than negotiating with the Guild.”
“I’m beginning to suspect it may be the more difficult mission.”
….
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….
I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length.
If you’re following a particular series, please wait your turn a little If there’s a particular novel you’re enjoying on Patron, please give it a ‘like’ so I know to focus on it