The item remained in Arthur's palm, bearing a symbol known only to the most elite inner circle of Caldera's royal history.
The king whispered. "They were disbanded so long ago!"
"Not disbanded," Arthur corrected quietly. "Hidden."
The king's eyes snapped to Arthur's face. "You expect me to believe you're a..."
"Yes...I have inherited it" Arthur interrupted.
Understanding dawned on the king's face. "The purge..."
The king stepped back, reassessing everything about the young man before him.
The king paced, mind racing. "If you're telling the truth—"
"I am."
"..."
Arthur inclined his head. "I prefer to think of my history as... loyal to the true crown."
The king's eyes narrowed. "The true crown?"
"The Ashbornes," Arthur clarified. "Not the Four Families who seek to control."
Something shifted in the king's expression, calculation giving way to hope. "So your appearance now, your guild..."
