The fat man, whose name Devin had learned was Borlo, led him through the reinforced door. The air changed instantly, from the chaotic buzz of the market to a silent, pressurized stillness that felt like the inside of a vault. The room was a stark contrast to the grimy stall outside: soundproofed walls paneled in dark wood, a single, massive desk carved from a single slab of obsidian, and climate-controlled display cases holding artifacts that shimmered with restrained power.
Behind the desk sat the true power in this corner of The Exchange.
