The Black Cut was the strongest but smallest faction of the three at the Forgotten Mills. The Gray Needle and White Thread had far more members in their ranks.
Still, each faction had existed for hundreds of years, and even the Black Cut had managed to gather quite a few members, as Adam would soon discover.
Step. Step. Step.
Following Misty, he climbed the hill as the field in front of Norax's mill opened up before them. Usually, it was empty, but now there were many tables, candles burning, and dozens of monsters doing everything in their power to set up a feast as quickly as possible.
Although this didn't usually happen, there was a reason for it today, and Norax himself was overseeing the entire process.
How could anyone refuse him?
"Faster, faster! You're moving like snails, damn it!" Norax waved his hand irritably.
Narica, as an experienced person in such matters, did most of the work.
