"So? What is it you wish to discuss?" Jarync asked, his voice steady but cautious as he sat across from Aaron in the elegantly appointed conference room, a sanctum reserved for the upper echelons of Stronghold 12. The room was adorned with intricate tapestries depicting Astrid's lost glory, their faded colors a somber reminder of better days. Polished steel tables gleamed under soft mana-powered lights, casting gentle reflections on the faces of the gathered council members—every key decision-maker in the sanctuary, their expressions a mix of curiosity, fear, and defiance.
Jarync had staked his position as leader to persuade these skeptical leaders to attend this meeting with an unknown man, risking his hard-earned authority on nothing more than his instincts and his son's urgent plea. The weight of that gamble hung heavy in the air, palpable in the tense silence that preceded Aaron's response.
