The city of Val'Haren was alive with movement, but Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar remained on edge.
The Veiled Order was watching them.
Waiting.
Argolaith sat near the window of his rented room, staring out at the darkened streets below. His fingers idly traced the hilt of his sword, his thoughts racing.
He had spent the last few months fighting, traveling, and uncovering lost knowledge—but this was different.
The Veiled Order wasn't some random group of bandits.
They were organized.
They were powerful.
And now, they were interested in him.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a very, very bad thing.
Kaelred lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "So, what's the plan? We can't just sit here and wait for them to kill us in our sleep."
Malakar, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirked. "You underestimate me, Kaelred."
Kaelred scoffed. "What, do you have undead guarding the inn?"
Malakar's eyes glowed faintly. "…Perhaps."
