The day that followed the night of the accord descended upon Veythral like any ordinary noon.
The smoke rising from the blacksmith forges, the clash of swords from the training grounds, and the noise spilling from the taverns were all signs that the city's anarchic heart was beating as it always did.
But in the meeting room on the top floor of the Sovereign's Keep, the air was unusually heavy, carrying the whisper of a coming change.
Fredrinn had ordered his most trusted men to gather in his chamber.
And now, they were all there; those who could keep Veythral standing in his absence, who had proven their loyalty in blood through countless missions and wars over the years.
In one corner of the room, Rod, still reeling from yesterday's lightning attack, was moaning with his head in his hands.
Opposite him, Kael, a restless young assassin barely in his twenties, fidgeted on his chair with a bored expression, skillfully twirling a dagger between his fingers.
