Chapter 7: The Sausage Fest Guild and the Suicide Wish

The tie was choking me—not metaphorically, literally choking me. Valeria’s fingers worked the silk with the precision of a surgeon and the intent of an executioner, standing close enough that I could smell her scent, steel and roses mixed with something darker I couldn’t name. Her red eyes tracked the movement of my throat every time I swallowed.

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying, you’re cutting off my air supply.”

“Your pulse just spiked—fifteen percent increase from baseline.”

Of course she was counting. Normal people have partners who fix their collars with affection, maybe a gentle pat on the chest, but mine calculates exactly how many seconds it takes for oxygen deprivation to trigger my fight-or-flight response.

“Valeria, the tie is supposed to be decorative, not functional.”

She pulled it tighter, just a fraction, her smile small and dangerous, weirdly docile in a way that made my survival instincts scream louder than when she was actively trying to kill me.

“Your neck looks vulnerable without armor.”

“That’s because I’m wearing a suit, not battle gear.”

“Exactly—so exposed, so easy to—”

She traced one finger along my jugular, the same path her blade took during our spar in the guild hall. The memory was fresh, the killing intent had been real, and if I’d been half a second slower I’d be explaining to Saint Peter why I died before breakfast.

“I could have ended you that morning.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because you stopped me first.”

Her voice dropped to something almost reverent as she adjusted my collar, smoothing the fabric with hands that had crushed skulls and torn through armor like paper. The contradiction was insane—beautiful and deadly hands being gentle, it felt wrong, it felt dangerous.

“There, perfect.”

I checked my reflection in the mirror, the tie was immaculate, professional, completely appropriate for a Guild Summit, but also tight enough that I’d pass out if I turned my head too fast.

“I could fix that for him.”

Elara’s voice came from the doorway, already dressed in her formal robes, white and gold, making her look angelic. The effect was ruined by the way she was gripping the doorframe hard enough to make the wood creak.

“I have excellent finger dexterity—for healing—I could adjust his collar, I could kneel down and—”

“No.”

Valeria didn’t even look at her, positioning herself between me and Elara like a guard dog. The temperature in the room dropped.

“But I want to help the Guild Master get ready.”

“He’s already ready.”

“I could still—”

“Elara.”

I used my Guild Master voice, the one that meant we were done with this conversation. She flinched, her face flushing that familiar crimson, her breathing getting heavier.

“Stand down, both of you—we have a Summit to attend, and if I show up with strangulation marks people will ask questions.”

“Let them ask.”

Seraphina appeared in the hallway behind Elara, already dressed in her formal mage robes, silver and black to match her hair. She looked like she’d stepped out of a portrait, composed and calculating.

“If anyone questions the Guild Master’s appearance, I’ll simply explain that he enjoys erotic asphyxiation—the psychological impact on his political rivals would be devastating.”

“Seraphina, no.”

“Why not? It’s an efficient use of scandal, fear and confusion are valuable diplomatic tools.”

“Because it’s insane, because I don’t need help ruining my reputation, because we’re leaving in five minutes and I swear if any of you cause an incident before we even arrive, I’m locking you in the carriage.”

They went quiet, but the tension didn’t fade—it never did, it just changed shape, became something I’d have to deal with later. I grabbed my coat off the chair and headed for the door.

“Let’s go, try to look civilized—we’re representing the guild.”

“We are civilized.”

Valeria followed me down the stairs, her armored boots clicking against the wood.

“We haven’t killed anyone in three whole days.”

“That’s not the achievement you think it is.”

The Guild Association Grand Hall looked like someone vomited gold and marble everywhere.

Chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, crystal catching the afternoon light and throwing rainbows across polished floors, adventurers filling the space in their formal best—expensive armor polished to a mirror shine and enough magical accessories to fund a small kingdom. The air buzzed with conversation, politics disguised as pleasantries, egos bumping against each other like territorial animals.

I hated everything about this.

“Stay close, don’t wander, don’t start fights, don’t—”

“We know the rules, Rian.”

Seraphina glided past me, already scanning the room with those calculating eyes, cataloging targets, measuring weaknesses, planning manipulations. I could practically see the gears turning.

“That doesn’t mean you’ll follow them.”

“Have some faith.”

“I have experience.”

Valeria positioned herself at my shoulder, close enough to intercept any threat, her hand resting near her sword hilt. She wasn’t wearing her full battle armor, just the formal version—black plates etched with silver roses—she looked elegant, she looked deadly, and every adventurer who glanced our way quickly looked somewhere else.

“Master Rian.”

Elara clutched my arm, pressing close, too close, her chest brushing against my sleeve with every breath. She was doing it on purpose.

“There are so many people here—what if I get lost? What if I need guidance? What if I need to be punished for straying?”

“Then I’ll leave you lost.”

I pulled my arm free and walked toward the registration table, the clerk recognizing me immediately, her expression shifting from professional courtesy to uncomfortable pity in record time.

“Guild Master Rian, Crimson Rose—your credentials have been updated following the recent political developments.”

She handed me a crimson-bordered badge, S-rank designation, the kind that made people nervous, the kind that came with expectations I didn’t want.

“You’ve been seated at the High Table for the summit discussions.”

“Of course I have.”

Because apparently surviving the Crimson Rose Contingency meeting meant I was important now—rich and politically connected and still absolutely miserable. The money didn’t fix the fact that I was babysitting three beautiful disasters with the combined emotional stability of a nitroglycerin smoothie.

“Rian!”

The voice boomed across the hall, everyone turning, conversations dying, the crowd parting like someone had cast a repulsion spell. A mountain of a man walked toward us, each step making the floorboards groan—he had to be six-five, maybe six-six, built like someone had commissioned a statue of masculinity and then brought it to life. His armor was platinum, polished to a blinding shine, covered in engravings of battles and victories, his jaw could cut diamonds, his hair was perfect.

I already hated him.

“Rian of Crimson Rose, yeah? I’ve heard the stories.”

He stopped in front of me, grinning like we were old friends—we weren’t friends, I didn’t even know who this guy was.

“Kaelen, Guild Master of Iron Vanguard—heard you’re sitting at the High Table now, impressive for someone running a three-person team.”

His tone made it clear he thought the opposite of impressive. He looked me up and down, taking in my tired eyes, my generic formal wear, the fact that I looked like I’d been through a war and lost, then he looked past me—straight at Valeria.

His grin widened, his eyes lit up with the specific kind of stupid that gets people killed, and he stepped around me like I wasn’t even there, addressing her directly.

“You must be the Vice-Captain—Valeria, right? The Crimson Knight?”

The temperature dropped ten degrees in two seconds.

Valeria’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in the air around her, that familiar pressure, the weight of killing intent so thick it made breathing difficult. She didn’t look at Kaelen—she looked at me, waiting, waiting for the order to paint the marble floors red.

“I run a proper guild, sweetheart—Iron Vanguard, all men, all warriors, the way it should be, we don’t do this mixed-team nonsense.”

Kaelen jerked his thumb at me like I was a prop.

“You’re clearly talented, wasted on a weakling manager who can’t even protect himself—join a real guild, I’ll give you the respect you deserve, command position, full benefits, and—”

He lowered his voice, leaning closer to her.

“—other perks, if you’re interested.”

I felt Valeria’s bloodlust spike, it crashed over the room like a tidal wave, adventurers backing away, someone dropping a glass, the sound shattering through the sudden silence.

She still didn’t look at Kaelen, staring at me with those burning red eyes, her hand touching her sword hilt, that smile spreading across her face—the one she wore before killing the Lich. Not because this idiot had propositioned her, but because an insect thought he could replace her owner.

“Kaelen.”

I kept my voice level, casual, like I was discussing the weather and not preventing a massacre in the Grand Hall.

“You should walk away, now.”

“Why? You gonna stop me?”

He turned back to me, puffing out his chest.

“Actually, let’s make this interesting—I challenge you to a duel, official, right here, when I win I take your Vice-Captain, she deserves better than a zookeeper.”

Valeria’s sword moved half an inch out of its sheath—the sound was quiet, just steel against leather, but it cut through the hall like thunder. Her smile widened, she wasn’t offended by the bet, she was insulted that this moron thought he could survive long enough to collect.​

I moved before she could draw—minimal movement, maximum efficiency. I stepped into her space, grabbed her wrist at the pressure point, and pulled her close, my other hand going to the small of her back, holding her against me, my mouth right next to her ear.

“Stand down.”

Her body went rigid, then it melted, the murderous tension draining out of her like someone had flipped a switch. Her face flushed crimson, her breathing changed, became shallow and quick, and she leaned into me, her armored chest pressing against mine.

​”Rian…”

Her voice was barely a whisper, heavy with something between submission and arousal, her free hand clutching my coat, looking up at me with those red eyes, pupils dilated, completely forgetting that Kaelen existed.

“Good girl.”

I released her wrist but kept my hand on her back—she swayed slightly, unsteady on her feet, still flushed and breathing hard. The killing intent was gone, now she just looked drunk.​

“Aww, how sweet.”

Kaelen laughed, loud and obnoxious.

“The manager gives his attack dog a hug—that’s adorable, but it doesn’t answer my challenge, coward, unless you’re too scared to fight me?”

I turned to face him, keeping Valeria slightly behind me, she was still recovering, still pressed against my side, making small noises that would get us both arrested if anyone heard them clearly.

“I’m not refusing the duel to save myself, Kaelen.”

I met his eyes, let the exhaustion show through.

“I’m refusing it because the janitor just waxed these floors, and blood is really hard to clean.”

His grin faltered, confusion crossing his face—he looked at Valeria, still clinging to me, face flushed, completely submissive, then at the crowd around us, adventurers backing away from the radius of violence that almost happened.

Then he looked at me again, and something finally clicked in his brain—fear, just a flicker, just enough.

“You’re serious.”

“I’m always serious when it comes to cleaning expenses.”

I adjusted my tie, the one Valeria had tied too tight, and guided her toward the High Table. Seraphina and Elara fell in behind us, both staring at Kaelen with expressions that promised creative suffering if he followed.

We walked away from the mountain of muscle and stupidity standing alone in the center of the Grand Hall, the crowd watching in silence, someone coughing, conversation slowly resuming.

I didn’t look back.

Another Summit, another idiot who thought he understood power. They never learned—they saw three beautiful women and one tired Guild Master and made all the wrong assumptions, they thought I was weak.

They never noticed the leash was invisible.

Valeria’s hand found mine under the table during the opening speeches, her fingers still trembling.