Sage straightened himself. "I appreciate the concern," he said. "But the Guild doesn't stop just because I need some time."

His gaze shifted to the quiet figure seated at the table, the old man who had been watching him without taking his eyes off.

Turning fully toward him, Sage observed the man for a while before breaking into a smile. "You must be the winemaker."

The old man's lips curved slightly in response.

For a brief moment, the lounge quieted. Adventurers continued to move through the hall, boots striking the floor, and Boren was still arguing with someone at the front desk.

Yet around the small space where Sage stood facing the cane-bearing elder, there was a subtle sense of separation, as if an invisible curtain had been drawn.

Now, the old man studied Sage openly. His gaze wasn't casual curiosity or a merchant's shallow appraisal; it was the slow, practiced scrutiny of someone who had lived long enough to know how to focus his attention.

Despite his age, his eyes were sharp, dark pupils steady beneath heavy lids. They traveled across Sage's slightly pale face, lingered on the faint hollows beneath his eyes, traced his thin frame, and finally rested somewhere deeper than flesh, as if trying to peer past skin and bone to whatever foundation lay beneath.

"So you are the Guildmaster of this place," he said at last.

His voice held no frailty; it was low and textured, carrying both age's rasp and a firmness that spoke of someone unaccustomed to bowing.

"This little establishment of yours has been making quite a stir across Greyvale. Even I, a man who lives tucked away among barrels and old buildings, have heard its name carried by the wind. Adventurers. Merchants. Warriors, even drunken bards who can't tell truth from fantasy."

He exhaled through his nose. "That alone is no small feat."

Sage smiled lightly. "Greyvale isn't exactly a quiet city," he replied. "If something is growing here, it rarely goes unnoticed."

The old man gave a faint huff, neither agreement nor denial.

Gregor watched their exchange with guarded interest while Pax leaned lazily against an armchair but remained alert. Mina stood slightly behind Sage, peering up at the old man with open curiosity; her golden twin ponytails swayed as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

Finally, the old man's gaze flicked past Sage to land briefly on Pax.

"You were the one who came to me," he said.

Pax inclined his head politely. "I was."

"You mentioned your Guild was looking for a winemaker," he continued. "Someone to tend a bar that doesn't yet exist, for warriors who drink too much and complain too loudly."

Sage let out a soft chuckle. "That description is… unfortunately accurate."

He gestured subtly toward the wide bustling hall beyond them. "We have a bar. We have space. We even have tools. What we lack is someone who knows what they're doing, and our adventurers remind me of that failure every single day."

Mina nodded vigorously. "They're really annoying about it," she added, her expression twisting into a childish scowl. "Every time someone returns from a mission, the first thing they ask is whether the bar is open yet."

The old man raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "Hot-blooded folk," he remarked. "Give them steel and monsters to fight, and they'll still complain about their drink."

His attention shifted back to Sage. "But wine isn't just something you 'open.' It's not stew that can be boiled in an afternoon or ale that can be rushed by impatience."

Sage nodded in agreement. "That's exactly why I wanted someone like you."

The old man tapped his cane softly against the floor as he adjusted his stance.

"Young man," he began, "I've turned down offers from merchant houses with vaults deeper than rivers. I've refused nobles who believed their coin could buy my skills. Do you know why?"

Sage didn't respond immediately; he simply watched the old man with an attentive expression, neither defensive nor overly eager.

"Because they didn't want wine," the old man continued. "They wanted leverage, labels they could stamp and flood across taverns. They wanted my craft diluted, stretched, mixed, sweetened, and sold to fools who wouldn't recognize the difference between patience and poison."

His voice took on a harder edge. "My recipes were once taken from me, used to deceive people into paying gold for something that had lost its soul. I buried three decades of my life trying to erase those mistakes."

The atmosphere grew heavier between them.

Sage listened without interruption. When the old man finished speaking, he replied quietly, "You don't owe me your trust, but please don't mistake my intentions."

The old man's gaze sharpened. "And what are those intentions?"

Sage rested his hands loosely before him. "I'm not interested in flooding Greyvale with cheap wine," he stated firmly. "Nor do I wish to squeeze every copper from those who earn their living bleeding in forests and ruins. If all I wanted was alcohol, I could have hired any tavern brewer in the district."

He gestured around them thoughtfully. "This place isn't meant to be just a tavern; it's meant to be infrastructure, a home between expeditions, a place where people return alive and want to come back again."

Gregor shifted slightly at this.

Sage continued calmly but resolutely, "I don't need deception or dilution; I don't want mass production that destroys what makes something worth having in the first place. If I did, I wouldn't have asked Pax to find you."

The old man studied him for several long breaths before finally saying slowly, "You speak well."

"Merchants also speak well," Sage countered.

"Merchants speak to take," Sage replied firmly. "I'm speaking to build something meaningful."

A brief silence settled over the room before the old man let out a dry, amused snort. "Hah. Bold words from a pale young Guildmaster who looks like he should still be asleep."

Mina bristled at his remark. "Hey...!"

Sage raised a finger, gently silencing her before she could respond.

The old man continued, "You claim you're not interested in exploiting warriors. Yet here you are, building a Guild, a structure, a system. Those are inherently designed for profit."

"Yes," Sage replied candidly. "They are."

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