The sun had already begun its descent behind the city's western towers by the time Adom reached the meeting point.

The Imperial Bank loomed ahead, all cold marble and rigid columns. Late afternoon light bounced off its pale facade while pigeons squabbled over crumbs on the steps. A bell tower somewhere struck five, its deep tones mixing with the constant background hum of the city. A few well-dressed merchants were concluding their business for the day, chatting idly as they descended the wide stone steps.

Cass was waiting on a bench near the entrance, one leg crossed over the other, a leather portfolio balanced on her knee. She'd made an effort with her appearance—her usual practical attire replaced by a tailored jacket in deep burgundy over a simple white blouse. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and she'd somehow managed to look exactly like what she was pretending to be: a representative of a noble house conducting important business.

When she spotted Adom, she pointedly glanced at the bank's ornate clock tower, then back at him.

"Took you long enough," she said as he approached, closing her portfolio with a snap. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind about the whole venture."

"Sorry about that," Adom replied, slightly out of breath. "Had a little unexpected event earlier. Also had to drop Zuni at my dorm before coming." He adjusted his collar, still feeling sand in places sand had no business being after his training session with Biggins.

Cass studied his face for a moment, then shrugged. "Don't worry about it. At least you're here now." She stood, tucking the portfolio under her arm. "While you were otherwise occupied, I've been rather productive."

She gestured for him to walk with her, away from the bank and toward the less crowded side street where they could speak more privately.

"The initial deposit has been made," she said once they were clear of potential eavesdroppers. "Five million gold, as planned. I presented the necessary documents with House Sylla's seal—which, by the way, you'll need to explain how you acquired."

"Later," Adom promised.

"Right." Cass pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "This is your official receipt. Don't lose it. I've also drafted the articles of incorporation for our trading company."

Adom examined the receipt, noting the impressive letterhead of the Imperial Bank. "You've been busy."

"That's why you're paying me." Cass's lips quirked in a small smile. "I've also made inquiries about the warehouse property. It's still available, but there's another interested buyer. We'll need to move quickly."

She paused, looking oddly hesitant for a moment. "I went ahead and registered our official name. You said I could choose, remember?"

"Of course," Adom said. "What did you decide on?"

"The Wangara Guild." Cass's voice became softer. "Trading and Expeditions."

Adom considered the name. It had a good ring to it—suggesting both commerce and adventure. "Wangara Guild. I like it. Does it mean something to you?"

Cass looked away briefly, watching a group of children chasing each other around the square.

"The Wangara were some of the first human merchants," she explained, her eyes brightening with enthusiasm. "They braved the Thousand Oceans and the Ten Continents to establish trade routes. They were the first to open commerce with seven different races, including the early sea elves. It was the name my father wanted for his guild, if he ever managed to start one." Her fingers tightened slightly on her portfolio. "He used to tell me stories about it when I was little. How one day, we'd have our own banner hanging in the Merchant Quarter."

"Used to?" Adom asked carefully.

"He died five years ago. Courier route ambush." She said it matter-of-factly, but Adom caught the tension in her jaw. "Anyway, I've had the name in my head ever since."

"I'm sorry about your father."

She shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Adom nodded, studying her profile. This explained a lot about Cass—her practical nature, her knowledge of commerce, her independence. And now she was emotionally investing herself in their venture, tying it to something deeply personal. It meant she would care for the guild with genuine passion, not just professional interest.

Which is exactly what I need from her, Adom thought, then immediately felt a pang of guilt. Here she was opening up about her father's dreams, and he was calculating how her emotional attachment would benefit his business interests.

I'm a terrible person sometimes.

"If you're happy with the name, then I am too," he said sincerely. "It suits what we're building."

Her expression brightened. "I've even drafted our guild motto." She cleared her throat with a touch of self-consciousness. "'Integrity in trade, innovation in approach, adventure in spirit.'"

"That's... actually perfect."

"I know," she said, a hint of her usual confidence returning. "I'm good at this, Adom. Trust me."

"I do."

She nodded, then got back to business. "What about you? Did you manage to contact the potential sponsors?"

"Yes," Adom said, carefully folding the receipt and tucking it into his inner pocket. "I sent a letter to Damus' father this morning. He should respond favorably—Sam also spoke to his father about us. The others should get back to me soon."

"Soon isn't good enough," Cass replied, her brow furrowing slightly. "We need at least one confirmed sponsor by tomorrow if we want to maintain our timeline."

A cart rumbled past them, the driver shouting at pedestrians to clear the way. Adom and Cass stepped closer to a shop front displaying expensive glassware, their reflections distorted in the window.

"I'm working on it," Adom said. "Duke Lightbringer isn't exactly someone you can rush."

Cass glanced at him sideways. "And the third option? Your mysterious Mr. Biggins?"

"That's... progressing."

"Progressing how, exactly?"

Adom thought about his afternoon on the beach—flying through the air, crashing into sand, the old dragon's cryptic promises.

"It's complicated," he admitted.

"I'll trust you to manage the sponsor situation," Cass said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just don't leave it too long. Timing is critical here."

"Thanks," Adom replied, relieved she wasn't pressing for details about Biggins. "I appreciate the confidence."

They walked along the edge of the square, past vendors packing up their stalls for the evening.

"Well," Cass said after a moment, her portfolio tapping rhythmically against her leg, "with today's tasks completed, our little reunion is almost done."

Adom nodded, already mentally planning his next steps.

"Before we part ways though," she continued, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Oh?"

Cass stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "I've been looking into our competition. The existing guilds in the House of Merchants."

"Find anything interesting?"

"Do you know how long it's been since a new guild successfully claimed a seat?" Cass asked.

"Uh... six years, I think?"

"Eight. Eight years." She leaned against the stone wall of a nearby building. "And that was the Kardin Shipping Guild, who only succeeded because they revolutionized hull design and cut trade route times by twenty percent."

A merchant passed by, pulling a cart loaded with unsold fabric. Cass waited until he was out of earshot before continuing.

"We're not just applying for membership here," she said, voice low. "We're asking the House to eject an existing guild—even if it's the fiftieth-ranked—and give us their place instead. We need to demonstrate significantly more value than what they're currently providing."

"The economics need to make sense," Adom agreed.

"More than make sense. They need to be compelling." Her fingers drummed against her portfolio. "These guilds have been entrenched for generations. They have connections, established trade routes, political backing. We can't just be good. We need something they don't have."

She fixed him with that direct stare of hers. "So, do you have any ideas? Something we could introduce soon that would make us stand out enough to break an eight-year streak of rejections?"

Adom was quiet for a moment. He'd seen eighty years of innovations in his past life—techniques and products that hadn't been invented yet in this timeline.

"Actually," he said finally, "I do."

Cass's eyebrow lifted slightly, interest piqued despite her attempt at professional detachment.

Adom looked at her, weighing how much to reveal. "But I'd need you to run a few errands for me first."

Her expression shifted to one of deadpan skepticism. "Errands."

*****

An hour and half later...

Adom stood at the shoreline, watching the waves slide in and out. The tide was low, exposing dark strips of wet sand that gleamed under the moonlight. A chill breeze swept in from the water, carrying the sharp tang of salt and seaweed.

He hadn't planned on being here this late. The moon was already up and Mercer's Cove was quiet at this hour, just the occasional distant shout from the docks and the constant rhythm of water against shore.

"I'm doing everything but attending school lately," he muttered to himself, then shook his head. "Focus."

He was here for a reason.

He stripped down to his underwear, folding his clothes into a neat pile on a nearby rock. The night air raised goosebumps across his skin.

Cautiously, he dipped a toe into the water.

"Damn it." It was freezing.

Adom glanced back at the hulking figure standing motionless several paces back from the water's edge.

"You sure you can't swim, John?"

The golem didn't respond. Of course it didn't. It wasn't sentient, just following basic commands.

He'd tried several times to make the golem enter the water. He'd removed its armor, adjusted its balance, even attempted to modify its command runes. Every attempt ended the same way: the golem sank like a stone, completely useless once submerged.

All that advanced magic, and water was the weak point. It was ridiculous, really.

He'd need to find a way to fix that eventually. Maybe some kind of flotation enchantment or waterproofing for the command runes. Something to work on later.

Adom took his glasses out of his pocket and held them up, examining his handiwork. The simple night-vision rune he'd spent an hour carving into the inner rim of the lenses glowed faintly blue in the darkness. Not his best work, but it would do the job. He slipped them on, and the shoreline immediately brightened to a grainy but visible scene.

"Nice."

He'd already expanded his mana pool enough that maintaining two spells simultaneously was no longer the strain it used to be. Good thing, too, considering what he was about to do.

"Alright, let's not freeze to death," he muttered.

Closing his eyes briefly, Adom constructed the fire spell in his mind, visualizing the energy forming a protective sphere around his body. The spell settled around him like an invisible bubble, radiating gentle warmth. Not exactly toasty, but it would keep hypothermia at bay. The downside: he'd have to consciously maintain the spell the entire time, which meant dividing his attention.

Could be worse.

Adom glanced back at the golem one more time. He'd left it standing guard, not because he expected trouble, but because he'd previously adjusted the displacement crystals in his pocket, lowering their mana signature in them. If something went wrong in the water, he could swap places with the golem instantly.

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"Alright Adom, the shores of Arkhos don't have predators," he reminded himself, which was exactly the kind of thing people said right before something ate them.

With his luck, he'd probably discover the one shark that decided to vacation in these waters.

Water lapped at his ankles, then his knees as he waded deeper. The fire spell created a weird sensation—his torso relatively comfortable while his legs grew increasingly numb.

"Here goes nothing," he said, taking a deep breath before plunging forward.

The cold hit him like a slap, his fire spell flickering dangerously as his concentration wavered. He stabilized it with a mental push. The night vision rune worked better underwater than he'd expected, turning the murky darkness into a grainy, ghostly landscape of swaying plants and scattered rocks.

Now he just needed to find what he was looking for before his willpower—or body temperature—gave out.

Adom pushed deeper into the water. The [Silverback's Might] skill that had seemed excessive on land was a blessing here, propelling him through the water with each powerful stroke. His arms cut through the darkness, pulling him down where light struggled to reach.

The [Iron Lungs] skill was proving surprisingly effective underwater. Three minutes had passed since his last breath, and the pressure in his chest was only a mild discomfort, not the burning need for air most people would feel. Still, he didn't want to push it too far.

Adom's enhanced night vision revealed a world most never saw – the seafloor was a landscape unto itself, with hills and valleys carved by currents over centuries. Schools of silver fish darted away as he approached, moving as one like liquid metal. Seagrass swayed in the underwater currents, reaching up from the sand like grasping fingers.

Something large and dark moved at the edge of his vision, then vanished. Probably just a grouper, he told himself, but quickened his pace anyway.

The farther he descended, the more apparent it became how vast the ocean truly was. The shoreline of Arkhos was behind him now, the familiar replaced by the unknown. There was something unsettling about being surrounded by so much water – it pressed against him from all sides, a constant reminder that he didn't belong here.

When his lungs finally began to burn, Adom paused, treading water. He weaved a spell and a bubble of air formed around his head, drawn from the water itself – not large, just enough for a few deep breaths.

He inhaled gratefully, the spell taxing his concentration as he maintained both it and the warming spell around his body.

"Crystals," he reminded himself, voice sounding strange in the bubble. "Focus."

He was looking for Deepglow Crystals – bluish-green formations with an inner luminescence that grew stronger the deeper they were found. They were rare but not impossibly so, forming in places where strong magical currents met underwater pressure. They could be found in some dungeons, deep caves, and occasionally – if you knew where to look – in underwater trenches near magical settlements like Arkhos.

Adom had researched the most likely locations before diving in. The eastern edge of Mercer's Cove had a deep underwater trench that ran parallel to the magical ley line feeding the Academy. If there were Deepglow Crystals anywhere accessible in Arkhos waters, they'd be there.

Something massive loomed ahead in the gloom – not living, but sculpted.

The broken remains of a statue.

As Adom approached, he recognized the features of Law Borealis, seated atop his dire bear Greymane. The statue had once stood proudly in Arkhos' central plaza, commemorating the city's founder. That was centuries ago, before storms and time had claimed it, pulling it into the sea to be forgotten by most.

The stone eyes seemed to watch him as he passed. Adom resisted the urge to look back.

He continued downward, following the sloping seafloor as it descended sharply into the trench he sought. The pressure increased, squeezing against his ears until he had to pause and equalize with a swallow. His warming spell flickered, requiring another burst of concentration to maintain.

The trench opened below him like a wound in the earth, dark and impossibly deep. Adom followed its edge rather than plunging into its depths – the Deepglow Crystals he needed would form along the walls where the magical current from the ley line brushed against the trench.

That's when he saw it – a faint blue-green glow emanating from a cleft in the rock face. Exactly what he'd been looking for. He swam closer, excitement building.

The Deepglow Crystals were growing in a cluster, jutting out from the rock like frozen flames. Each was roughly the size of his thumb, with faceted surfaces that caught what little light penetrated this depth, amplifying it. Inside each crystal, a soft pulse of energy ebbed and flowed, almost like a heartbeat.

Adom reached out.

He formed a new air bubble, letting the previous one dissipate, and took a deep breath. Then he simply grasped the nearest crystal firmly and pulled it free from the rock wall. The crystal came loose with a satisfying crack, its blue glow undiminished.

In the inventory it went.

He was so focused on harvesting the crystals that he didn't notice movement in his peripheral vision until it was too close to ignore.

Adom spun, nearly losing his air bubble in surprise.

A face – distinctly human but somehow not – watched him from less than an arm's length away. Large, dark eyes with vertical pupils caught the meager light, and what he'd initially mistaken for flowing hair was revealed to be fine, translucent fins extending from the head like a lion's mane.

A mermaid.

And she wasn't alone. Three more forms hovered nearby, watching him with curiosity.

Adom's first instinct was to reach for the displacement crystal in his pocket — to swap places with his golem and escape to the surface. But something in their posture stopped him. Despite their unnerving appearance, he recognized the Cantantes subspecies from his arrival at Arkhos. These weren't the kind that enjoyed watching bubbles stop.

His air bubble began to destabilize as his concentration wavered.

The nearest mermaid noticed his predicament. Her lips parted in what might have been a smile but revealed teeth too sharp, too numerous for comfort. She moved closer, her webbed fingers with their hint of claws making a fluid gesture. Suddenly, the pressure around Adom's head changed, and his failing air bubble was replaced by something more substantial — a sphere of air that encompassed his entire head and shoulders.

Her turquoise hair floated around her face like living tendrils as she tilted her head, studying him with the fascination of a child examining an interesting insect.

"Uh... thank you?" he ventured, his voice sounding oddly normal inside the bubble.

The effect was immediate. The mermaids burst into laughter—not the bubbly, muffled sound you'd expect underwater, but crystal clear, like wind chimes in a summer breeze.

It was beautiful. It was melodic.

It was absolutely terrifying considering his current situation.

The turquoise-haired one who'd fixed his air bubble darted around him in a tight circle, her powerful tail propelling her with grace. Another with silver-streaked hair joined her, and soon they were swimming circles around him.

"I'm just looking for some crystals," Adom said, pointing to the cluster he'd been harvesting. "Not trying to trespass or anything."

They tilted their heads in unison, watching him with those unnervingly large eyes. They didn't respond verbally, but their expressions shifted in subtle ways—curiosity, amusement, something else he couldn't quite identify.

Great. Either they didn't understand him (which was liekly), or they were just enjoying watching him squirm.

The silver-streaked one reached out and poked his arm with a webbed finger, then quickly pulled back, darting away a few feet before cautiously approaching again. The others chittered to each other in a language that sounded like dolphin clicks mixed with something vaguely reminiscent of Elvish.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," Adom said, trying again. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd extend the same courtesy."

They blinked those sideways lids at him.

This wasn't working. He needed another approach.

An old saying floated through his mind: "Perfect practice makes for the perfect moment to practice."

Worth a shot.

Adom closed his eyes, focusing inward. Druid magic wasn't about complex runes or elaborate spellcasting—it was about emotion. Clear, pure emotion projected outward with mana. No language, no words, just feeling and intent.

He concentrated on curiosity first—his own interest in them. He visualized it as a soft green light emanating from him, reaching out to the merfolk.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then he felt it—a gentle push against his mind, like someone tapping on a door.

The turquoise-haired mermaid had moved closer, her head tilted, eyes narrowed. She was responding.

Encouraged, Adom tried again, this time focusing on his purpose. He visualized the crystals, their glow, their formation. He projected an image of himself carefully removing a few—not all—and swimming back to the surface. No harm intended, just collection.

The mermaid's eyes widened slightly. She turned to the others, and they exchanged those strange clicking sounds again, faster this time.

She turned back to him and sent something in return—not words, but a clear mental image of a deep underwater trench. A place full of what he was looking for.

"Oh."

The silver-streaked one darted forward suddenly, coming face to face with Adom. He instinctively recoiled, an emotion of alarm flashing out before he could control it.

She chuckled—an eerily human sound—and sent him an image of humans in boats, throwing spears at her kind.

Adom understood. I'm not like them, he projected, along with regret for her experience.

The turquoise-haired mermaid swam closer, circling Adom once more, but slower, more deliberate. She sent him an image of the crystals—more than the few he'd been harvesting, an entire wall of them somewhere deeper.

Adom's eyes widened in surprise. She was showing him where to find more.

He projected gratitude, his intention clear.

The mermaids exchanged looks, and two of them suddenly darted away into the depths without explanation. The turquoise-haired one stayed, watching Adom with unblinking attention.

The remaining mermaid, one with coral-pink fins he hadn't noticed before, approached cautiously. Adom felt a reflexive wariness rise within him—after all, this was still a powerful predatory being with claws and too many teeth.

The mermaid chuckled as she sensed his reaction, sending him a teasing image of herself looking exaggeratedly menacing, then immediately contrasting it with another of herself simply swimming alongside schools of fish.

Not a threat. At least not right now.

Adom relaxed slightly, projecting curiosity about where the others had gone.

The coral-finned mermaid simply pointed in the direction they'd disappeared, then made a grabbing motion with her hands. Getting something.

A movement caught his attention. The two mermaids who had swum away earlier were returning, their arms laden with—

Crystals. Deepglow Crystals, already harvested and glowing brilliantly.

Adom couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. They knew where to find the crystals in abundance and had simply gone to get some for him—saving him the trouble and risk of diving deeper.

He let his appreciation flow outward. The mermaids seemed pleased by his reaction, their fins fluttering slightly.

The turquoise-haired mermaid who'd first approached him gestured for him to hold out his hands. When he did, she carefully placed several crystals in his palms—more than he could have safely harvested on his own, and of better quality too. Perfect specimens, with no cracks or flaws.

"Thank you!" Adom said aloud, the words unnecessary but somehow satisfying to say.

He then pulling the crystals into his inventory. To the merfolk, the crystals simply vanished from his outstretched palms, disappearing into thin water.

Their reaction was immediate—a chorus of excited clicks, their eyes widening as they darted closer, examining his now-empty hands.

"Oh, this?" Adom laughed. "It's my inventory skill. Cool, huh? I can put a lot of things in it," he explained, knowing full well they didn't understand the words, but finding it easier to convey his thoughts and emotions when he talked at the same time. He mentally projected an image of the crystals being stored in a safe place he could access later.

The turquoise-haired mermaid circled him again. She made a grabbing motion toward his hands, then opened her own palms questioningly.

"You're wondering what else I can do with it?" Adom grinned. "Well..."

This time, Adom retrieved a small paper bag from his inventory. He'd bought these candies from the Werid Stuff.

"I'm not sure if you'll like these," he said, opening the bag inside his air bubble, "but on the surface, people like them a lot."

He held out his palm, offering several small wrapped candies.

The turquoise-haired mermaid approached excitedly. She hovered near his outstretched hand, examining the colorful offerings. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out and delicately plucked one from his palm.

She held it up, turning it this way and that, looking back at Adom questioningly.

"Like this," Adom said, taking one for himself.

He made sure they were watching as he brought it to his air bubble, carefully unwrapped it, and popped the candy into his mouth. "Hmmm," he hummed appreciatively as the sweet, slightly tangy flavor spread across his tongue.

The turquoise-haired mermaid watched with rapt attention. Then, mimicking his movements perfectly, she brought the candy to her own face—and promptly popped the entire thing, wrapper and all, into her mouth.

"No, the wrapper is not to be eaten—" Adom started, but it was too late.

The wrapper was made of a special dissolving film that would eventually break down harmlessly—designed to minimize litter in Arkhos streets—but still. That wasn't exactly how humans did it.

The mermaid's eyes suddenly widened, her pupils dilating dramatically. Her entire body went rigid for a moment, then, in a burst of movement, she executed a perfect backward flip through the water, her tail leaving a trail of bubbles.

"Hmmmm!" she mimicked, the sound remarkably similar to Adom's appreciative hum despite passing through water instead of air.

She began clicking rapidly as she darted between her companions. The others immediately crowded around Adom, their hands extended eagerly toward the remaining candies.

"Whoa, easy there," Adom laughed. He carefully distributed the candies, making sure each mermaid got one.

They all copied exactly what they'd seen—some unwrapped them as he had, others followed their friend's example and ate the whole thing, wrapper and all. Each reaction was similar—widened eyes, excited movements, and that same 'hmmm!' rippling through the water.

"You guys like that?" Adom asked, grinning as they continued to savor the taste, some of them performing elaborate spins and twirls in what he guessed was their version of a sugar rush. It was like watching kids at a birthday party, just with more fins and teeth.

The turquoise-haired mermaid circled back to him, her expression almost reverent as she pointed to his hand, then to her mouth, then made a series of hopeful clicks.

"Sorry, that's all I've got for now," Adom said, turning his hands palm-up to show they were empty. "But I'll bring more next time," he added, projecting an image of himself returning with more candies.

Her fins fluttered in that smile-like expression, and she nodded.

"I should go now," Adom said, pointing upward and hoping they'd understand.

The turquoise-haired mermaid tilted her head, then nodded. She made a sweeping gesture with her arm that seemed to indicate "follow me," then began swimming upward in a graceful arc.

To Adom's surprise, all four mermaids accompanied him as he kicked toward the surface. They swam circles around him, occasionally darting ahead only to loop back.

The journey back seemed much shorter with his unexpected escorts. As the water grew shallower and moonlight began to filter down more clearly, Adom could see the seafloor rising to meet the shore.

When his head finally broke the surface, he gasped in the fresh night air, his lungs grateful for the unrestricted oxygen after the confines of the bubble. He waded the last few yards to shore, his legs adjusting to the strange weightiness of land after the buoyancy of the sea.

He turned back when he reached the shallows, and there they were—four heads poking above the gentle waves, watching him with those large, curious eyes. They hadn't fled as he'd expected.

"Thank you so much!" Adom called to them, raising his voice slightly to carry across the water. "I'll come back later with more of this," he added, mimicking eating something sweet and then pointing to them.

The mermaids responded with a chorus of clicks and that strange, musical laughter that somehow sounded both delightful and slightly menacing. The turquoise-haired one raised a webbed hand in what might have been a wave, then, as if on some silent signal, all four turned in perfect unison and submerged with barely a ripple.

Adom stood there for a moment, dripping wet and suddenly alone on the moonlit beach. The place was completely empty save for himself and his golem standing motionless where he'd left it.

This whole encounter felt incredibly fortunate. If he could establish some sort of ongoing link with the Cantantes Sirens, they could become suppliers of the crystals he needed. In exchange, he'd bring them candies and whatever else might interest them. A simple trade, mutually beneficial, and one that would give him access to materials most humans would find difficult or dangerous to acquire.

That could work...

The night breeze reminded him suddenly that it was, in fact, the middle of the night. Cass was probably done running the errands he'd sent her on, and here he was, standing half-naked on a beach like some kind of deranged midnight swimmer.

He canceled his warming spell and immediately regretted it as the cold night air hit his wet skin.

"John," he called to the golem, walking over to where it stood sentinel. With a quick mental command, he returned the massive construct to his inventory.

"ATCHOO!" The sneeze caught him by surprise, echoing across the empty beach.

"Great," he muttered, hurrying to where he'd left his clothes. "Just what I need. A cold."

He dressed as quickly as his shivering hands would allow, stubbornly ignoring the way his shirt clung uncomfortably to his damp skin.

At least he had the crystals. And, perhaps more valuably, he had made some rather unusual new acquaintances.

All in all, not a bad night's work.