Excerpt from Morgan Monts; The Guilds Who, what, why?: 43 BAR

There are many Guilds across many different kingdoms, princedoms, duchy and even baronies. These guilds can be split into two distinct groups the Craft guilds made up of artisans such as stonemasons, cobblers and painters, and mercantile guilds. These guilds exist to protect and promote their members.

By the time I made my way to the top of the enormous hill my legs were burning in furious protest, though the sight of the gate into the keep proper, and the flat ground it eluded to, was a welcome sight for my weary legs. The view of farther already chatting away with one of the guards outside it another one. The less time I have to spend listening to people blab on the better.

Their conversation eventually arrives at my ears though in the form of blended laughter sounding like the symphony of a deaf orchestra.

As I limped my way closer, I managed to get a better view of the two-guards. Covered in the same basic dull grey steel mail covering the unkept white, well what I believe to be white, gambeson underneath. As well as the same reflective kettle hat as all the other guards.

"anyways milo" The guard speaking paused for a quiet moment at noticing my ragged approach to give me a skeptical glance before proceeding. "yer a bit early, but I'm sure his lordship won't mind" The guard announced a lazy smile playing at his lips. The second guard moves to open the gate as my farther reply rings out "Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't" his own smile in full bloom "the early bird gets the worm now don it" farther and the firsts guard juvenal laughter once again spewed from their mouths mixing in the open air as the other guard had managed to unlock and open the gate.

The deep squeaking of the hinges dragged farther and the laughing guard from their cheerful exchange and back to reality. " guess I'll see ya on the way out then milo" laughed the first guard "sure thing, Warner. “Father chuckled out as he moved towards the open gate.

"come on boy. stop yer dawdling" farther said peering back at me, I once again moved to follow, ignoring my legs fervent protest, as we departed through the open gate father patted the more silent guard on the shoulder "see ya too theo" the guard only inclined his helmeted head in acknowledgment as we advanced through.

The sight of the keep this close was intimidating, less so than at the base of the hill, however. Something to do with the immaculate garden at the side of the path that leads to the main entrance decorated by a multitude of bright plants and other foliage.

As father moves on as if all is right with world My eyes seemed to drift to the left at the sound of clanking, two men clad in thick padded Armor duelling on the only patch of brown ground that I could see. A practice area I summarise. Their swords, most likely dull, seem to cut the light in twain as the two men clash, parry and riposte each other in swift succession. I gawked in rapt fascination as one of the men the attacker strikes high but is stopped by his opponents' the defenders' own blade before power can be generated; the defender then like lighting slips his arm into the gap between the arms; pulling the attacker's arm downward away from his own sword while simultaneously dragging his blade down the defender expertly disarms the attacking man before throwing him harmlessly to the ground.

My enthralled gaping was interrupted by the loud knocking emanating from the door into the keep.

Shifting to see that father had reached the keep, I quickly rushed to make sure I didn't get reprehended again. The smug look on his face, no doubt noticing my earlier gaping, was irritating but I won't let it get to me annoying as it is.

Glancing once again in the direction of the practice yard it seems the two men were also drawn by father knocking the door. Both Stood there; swords held loosely held in their gloved hands. Father didn't seem to notice their stares that seemed to pierce me just as well as their sword would. No, he stood calmly waiting for the door to be opened, in his apparent ignorance of the fact two armed men are staring menacingly at us; he could however just not care. If it’s the latter like always I don't know whether to call it arrogance or confidence.

The door eventually opened and with it came the sight of a man that even I was acquainted with. The bailiff, in all his crimson glory the portly man is always easy to identifiable by that crimson red tunic that covers most of his admittedly large body.

The large man's eyes seem to light up almost comically while regarding us "aha, just in time my good fellows." the bailiff merrily chuckled out as he maneuvered himself around "come come, his lordship is ever so excited to talk to you know" both farther and seem to move in sync as if entranced by the man’s jolly domineer, there is a reason why after all it's his job to collect taxes and the like you just can’t hate the man even when he’s taking your money.