After sorting out the village and players' conditions, Arthur realized it was almost time for the guild council meeting.
He couldn't afford to be late. Not when so much depended on establishing his position among Caldera's elite.
He teleported from the village to his guild quarters, space folding around him like paper origami before opening to reveal the familiar halls of Power.
Wearing Azarel's face, he stepped out into the corridor.
They are still watching.
The sensation of eyes on his back hadn't faded. If anything, it had intensified since arriving in Caldera. The four elite families clearly hadn't given up. Still waiting for their chance to strike.
He didn't know which family or group maintained the surveillance. Didn't particularly care.
Let them watch. It's not like they can see anything besides what I want them to see
