The Guild Hall sat at the end of a wide street on the eastern side of the city like it had been placed there specifically to be the last thing you saw before leaving Redmere and the first thing you looked for when you came back.
It was bigger than Marcus expected.
Three stories of dark stone with guild banners hanging from every available surface, colors and insignias representing factions Marcus didn't recognize yet but filed for later. The entrance was a set of double doors that had been propped open permanently, the kind of open that said people moved through here constantly enough that closing them was more trouble than it was worth.
They walked in.
The ground floor was one large open space that smelled like old wood and metal polish and the particular combination of people who spent most of their time outdoors coming indoors. Notice boards covered every wall from floor to ceiling, contracts posted in layers, newer ones pinned over older ones, color coded by tier with a system that looked foreign.
Tables ran down the center of the room in two long rows, occupied by people eating, arguing, reviewing maps, sharpening weapons, and doing the general business of people who made their living taking contracts.
A long counter ran along the back wall where three clerks worked behind it with the focused efficiency of people managing a high volume operation.
Marcus stood inside the entrance and looked at all of it.
Liz stopped beside him and looked at the same room he was looking at.
"You see something worth worrying about?" she said.
"Nothing much people here just look different don't for once drop your guard ."
"Yes sire she geeked jokingly."
The room had a particular social geography that became apparent once you spent a few minutes in it. Experienced hunters occupied the tables closest to the contract boards, the ones who knew what they were looking for and went straight to it. New arrivals clustered near the entrance doing what Marcus and Liz were doing, taking stock before committing to a direction.
The counter at the back was the formal side of the operation, registration, contract submission, payment processing.
And in the middle of all of it, at a table near the left wall with enough empty space around him to suggest he talked too much for most people's comfort, sat a man eating a bowl of something that steamed aggressively and somehow managing to do it loudly.
He looked up the moment Marcus and Liz walked past his table.
"New faces," he said, not to anyone in particular.
Marcus kept walking.
"Hey. New faces. I'm talking to you."
Marcus stopped. Turned. Looked at the man with the particular expression he used for things that had interrupted his thinking and had better have a good reason for it.
The man was broad, the kind of broad that came from actually using the muscle rather than building it for appearance, with a face that had been hit enough times to develop opinions about it and hair that had given up on any particular direction. He wore fighter class gear that had been repaired in several places and had the easy posture of someone who was comfortable everywhere they sat.
He grinned at Marcus's expression like it was the funniest thing he'd seen all day.
"Relax. I'm not starting anything." He pushed the chair across from him out with his foot. "Sit down. You look like you just arrived and don't know anyone and I've been here three months so I know everyone. That makes me useful to you."
"Does it," Marcus said.
"Absolutely." He pointed at the chair again. "Renn. Fighter class. Two years active, forty six contracts completed, zero fatalities on my side which I'm proud of."
He looked at Liz. "Your friend looks like he's deciding whether I'm worth talking to."
"Let's hear him out," Liz told Marcus in a low tone and sat down.
Marcus sat down because she had and because the man had a point about usefulness even if the delivery needed work.
"Marcus," he said.
"Just Marcus?"
"Just Marcus."
Renn looked at him for a moment with the assessing eyes of someone who had met a lot of people and had developed a system for categorizing them quickly. Whatever category he put Marcus in seemed to satisfy him because he nodded once and picked up his bowl again.
"What's your Class?" he said.
"A random Swordsman," Marcus said, he had other stuffs to spill but decided to keep chill.
Renn looked at the worn sword at Marcus's hip and the way Marcus held himself and the particular quality of stillness he carried and nodded like that checked out even though something behind his eyes suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.
"She yours?" He nodded at Liz.
"That's not our business here,"
Liz looked at Marcus sideways.
"Smart answer," Renn said. "Most people get that wrong." He set the bowl down. "So. New to Redmere, decent gear on one of you and interesting gear on the other, came in from the west judging by the dust pattern on your horses which I observe you guys on your way to the stables this morning." He tilted his head. "What's the plan."
"Guild registration," Liz said.
"A Two person party?"
"Two person guild," Marcus said.
Renn stared at him. Then he laughed, a genuine laugh, the kind that came from actual surprise rather than politeness.
"A guild," he said. "Two people. In Redmere." He looked at Liz. "Is he always like this."
"What's that supposed to mean?," she said.
"I like him," Renn said immediately, pointing at Marcus. "That kind of confidence either gets you killed very fast or very rich. I'm genuinely curious which one it'll be." He stood up and grabbed his bowl. "Counter's in the back. Clerk on the left is faster than the other two and asks fewer questions." He started walking toward the contract boards. "Come find me after. I know which contracts are worth taking and which ones will get you killed, and right now you look like you need that information more than you need the registration paperwork."
He disappeared into the crowd near the boards.
Marcus watched him go.
"He talks a lot for a empty mass of muscle," he said.
"Atleast he gave us a hint about the fastest clerk to use before we asked,"
Liz said. "Sure he dropped something useful."
Marcus stood up and headed toward the counter.
"Left clerk," he said.