Chapter 256: Valencrest

“Who gave you permission to open this establishment in Riverdale?” he demanded. “Did you send a notice to my father’s office? Did you seek approval? Or did you simply wake up one day and decide to stake your claim in my father’s city because of your newfound popularity?”

Mira, Selene, and the other receptionists kept their smiles intact, but their eyes sharpened with concern. Adventurers in the hall observed quietly; no one appreciated hearing their city referred to as if it were someone else’s plaything.

Boren nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the reasonableness of the question. “Our Guild operates throughout the Evergreen Region,” he replied evenly.

“We adhere to regional charters. We register Adventurers, regulate missions, and provide lawful contracts for citizens. We are neither a private army nor a political faction; we are a service.”

The young man let out a short, cold laugh. “A service,” he repeated mockingly.

“And yet here you are gathering armed men in large numbers within my father’s city, taking coin, posting jobs, handling disputes. Tell me, Assistant… what exactly do you think you’re building here? A tavern? A charity house?”

Boren stood his ground without flinching. “A Guild,” he stated plainly. “A place where order can be bought without corruption and where Adventurers can operate under rules instead of behaving like wild dogs.”

The young man leaned closer to the counter, lowering his voice menacingly. “Watch your mouth,” he warned softly. “You’re speaking in a city where my father is law.”

Boren’s smile remained but grew thinner around the edges. “We respect the City Lord,” he said firmly. “But we also uphold our own structure. We do not break laws or accept illegal contracts and we certainly do not respond to threats.”

The young man’s expression tightened at that last word. “Threats?” he questioned incredulously.

Boren tilted his head slightly as if considering something obvious. “You arrived here with guards,” he said calmly.

“You demanded permission as if we were criminals and spoke about our hall as though it’s an affront to your family name. If that’snot a threat, then it certainly feels like an odd way to greet someone.”

A few Adventurers exchanged small smiles while others murmured among themselves; some hands instinctively moved closer to sword hilts behind them.

The young man scanned the hall before turning his gaze back to Boren.

“I’m Roderick Valencrest,” he announced, letting the name linger in the air as if it commanded respect.

“I am the son of the City Lord. Since this branch opened, I’ve been hearing complaints. People are talking, merchants, warriors, they say your Guild is expanding rapidly. They say you’re solving problems that even the city guards can’t handle. They say you’re becoming the backbone of Riverdale’s operations.”

Boren nodded once in acknowledgment. “That means we’re doing our job,” he replied.

Roderick’s expression sharpened. “Or it means you’re getting too big for your britches,” he countered. “Things that grow too quickly often forget their place; they start to think they don’t need to bow down and remember who owns the ground beneath them.”

Boren maintained his calm demeanor. “No one owns the ground,” he said firmly. “This city belongs to its people.”

Roderick’s smile turned predatory. “Careful now,” he warned, “that sounds like a speech.”

Boren shrugged lightly. “I’m a clerk, not a poet.”

A few quiet chuckles rippled through the hall, even Valeria couldn’t help but smirkslightly before turning her face away as if trying to hide her amusement.

Roderick fixed Boren with a long stare. “Let’s cut the pretense,” he said finally.

“This branch is making quite a profit, an impressive amount of coin, I might add. You’re utilizing Riverdale’s roads, enjoying its peace, and benefiting from its market. Any organization profiting from Riverdale should contribute back to its authority.”

Boren raised an eyebrow skeptically. “We pay taxes, as required by law.”

Roderick’s tone shifted to something smoother yet laced with disdain, sounding almost polite while dripping with condescension.

“Taxes are just the bare minimum,” he replied coolly. “I’m talking about goodwill, support, a monthly contribution that shows you understand who holds power here.”

Boren blinked slowly as if processing something absurd. “You mean protection fees,” he stated flatly.

The hall fell silent.

Roderick’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch your words.”

Boren smiled innocently in response. “Then perhaps you should watch your meaning,” he shot back calmly. “If it walks like a wolf and talks like a wolf, I won’t call it a sheep.”

One of Roderick’s guards stepped forward menacingly, but Roderick raised a hand without glancing back.

Roderick leaned forward, resting his palm on the counter. “You’re quite bold for a clerk of your size,” he said, his voice low. “Do you know why? It’s because you’ve built a reputation. You think Adventurers will shield you. You believe that your Guild symbol makes you untouchable.”

Boren’s smile faded slightly, yet his tone remained steady. “I’m not bold,” he replied. “I’m simply doing my job.”

Roderick’s gaze shifted to the receptionists, sizing them up as if they were mere decorations.

“And what about you?” he asked, eyeing them with disdain. “With your pretty smiles and neat uniforms… did you think you were establishing a noble house? This is a dusty quarter; don’t act like you’re above your station.”

Mira’s smile tightened, Selene’seyes turned icy, and Rosaline maintained her sweet expression but paused over the pile of coins as if contemplating throwing them at someone.

Boren kept his tone polite, but the atmosphere around him shifted. “Speak to me,” he said firmly. “Not to them.”

Roderick laughed again, this time louder. “Oh? A hero now?” he mocked. “A fat hero. That’s a new one.”

A few Adventurers shifted in their seats; hands moved closer to sword grips, not drawn yet but ready for action. The hall was filled with people who fought monsters for a living; they didn’t fear a wealthy boy but respected danger and law, this was crossing the line.

Roderick’s patience snapped as he slammed his hand on the counter hardenough to send papers flying and make a pen roll away.

“Enough,” he declared sharply. “I came here to speak civilly, but it seems you don’t understand respect. Let me simplify things.”

He glanced at his guards, signaling them forward with an imperious tilt of his head.

“Teach them,” he commanded, “teach them what happens when people forget who rules Riverdale.”

The guards advanced with heavy boots and steely gazes, while the Adventurers in the hall rose from their chairs, scraping wood against stone as tension thickened in the air.

Valeria pushed herself away from the pillar and took a deliberate step forward; her face remained calm, almost bored but her eyes were cold enough to shrink the room.

Boren stood firm; he didn’t retreat or shout back at Roderick or his guardsInstead, he quietly stated, “If your father heard how you’re speaking right now, he’d be ashamed.”

Roderick’s face contorted with rage at those words. “Don’t utter my father’s name from your lips!” he hissed, pride overtaking reason in that moment.

He leaned across the counter and reached for Boren’s collar as if intending to drag him forward and display dominance over everyone present.

His fingers were just inches away.

Valeria narrowed her eyes.

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