Far from the Outlands where Arden and his group trekked through, deep within the heart of Caelum City, the lord's castle stood silent but tense. Inside, voices rose and fell behind thick stone walls, bouncing off polished floors and long-forgotten banners.
The ruling chamber was full, with elders seated in a semi-circle around the city lord, their faces lined not just with age but pride that had been bruised.
"He mocked us," one barked, slamming his hand against the wooden armrest. "A foreigner... taunting our blood, right under our sky."
"Not just any foreigner," another chimed in, "a masked boy, barely older than our younglings. And he dared walk away from the ruin, and left it like it was some empty cave."
"Because our own couldn't hold it," a third snapped. "Don't forget that."
The name came up quickly. Veryon.
