The bell above the entrance gave a soft ring as another wave of adventurers entered—mud-slick boots, patched cloaks, sharp steel slung low. The guild hall was alive with morning heat and noise, sun pouring through high windows and glinting off hanging blades.
Behind the front counter, Jinn stood—brass tag newly polished, sleeves rolled, hands steady. Her hair was tied back cleanly, not to impress, but to stay out of the way.
A sword cracked against the floor. Someone laughed.
And still, she didn't flinch.
"Next," she called, her voice clear.
The man before her stepped aside, flipping his signed contract into the tray.
A shorter adventurer took his place, placing a sealed pouch on the counter with a clink of coins. "Job drop-off. Bandit headcount cleared south post."
Jinn opened the pouch, counted quietly, then passed him a stamped receipt.
"Verified. Report will post in two hours."
He blinked. "That fast?"
She didn't answer. Just looked to the line. "Next."
Lavirra watched from the upper stair rail, arms folded, eyes calm but sharp. She said nothing.
One by one, the line moved. Some curious. Some suspicious. A few disrespectful—but none dared raise their voice. Not with Lavirra watching. Not with Jinn's quiet precision.
Then—trouble.
An armored man pushed past the queue. Young, loud, drunk on his own voice.
"Where's Calden?" he barked. "That layabout owes me four writs. Not dealing with some little girl."
Jinn didn't blink. "Calden's off-shift."
"I'll wait. She's not touching my paperwork."
She didn't raise her voice. "If it's standard bounty proof, I'll process it. If not—take it to Lavirra."
He scoffed. "I don't answer to—"
A sudden silence fell.
Jinn hadn't moved, but Lavirra was already at the bottom of the stairs.
"If you raise your voice again, you can deliver that paper to the city watch," she said flatly.
The man scowled, hesitated—then muttered something and backed off. He didn't leave, but he sat. Quietly.
Lavirra gave Jinn a long glance. No words passed. She turned and went back upstairs.
The line moved on.
And Jinn stayed.
Hours passed. Forms stamped. Requests logged. One clerk, silent and alert, holding the front like stone.
Only after the sun dipped lower and the last submission tray emptied did she finally sit. Her back ached, her fingers sore from writing.
She looked down at her desk. Neat, exact. Not one form misplaced.
She didn't smile. Just exhaled quietly.
No one clapped. No praise.
But a few eyes had changed. Less doubt. Less dismissive.
She belonged here now.