The two weeks following Aldric Goldfeather's departure were anything but peaceful, yet neither did they unfold with the theatrical flair one might expect as a precursor to a war against a Lord Beast.
Instead, they crept in like a tightening noose slow, methodical, and unyielding, each day compressing the Adventurer Guild into a state of controlled tension that seeped into every corridor and every hushed conversation wafting through Greyvale City.
From the outside, the Guild radiated success.
Its gates swung open at dawn and remained opened long after dusk, allowing an unrelenting flow of adventurers, merchants, mercenaries, and opportunists, all drawn by tales of glory and fortune.
The Gryphon District had long shed its old skin, transforming entirely into the Adventurer District, where the clash of steel rang through the air, contracts exchanged hands with lightning speed, and ambition thrived as effortlessly as breath.
