The night had settled over the kingdom, but within the palace walls, the battle had already begun.
Not with swords. Not with blood.
But with words, influence, and an ever-growing cult of absolute lunatics.
Vincent was at the center of it all, lounging like a man who had already won. Across from him, The Stranger (now officially THE STRANGER) sat with an unnerving amount of energy. The Sorceress leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, watching the proceedings with her usual air of quiet judgment.
Darin, to his own surprise, was actually paying attention.
Because, for once, this was a fight he couldn't swing his warhammer at until it stopped being a problem.
Vincent gestured toward the map laid out before them. It was covered in hastily scribbled notes, marks of religious sites, noble territories, and city squares where crowds could gather.
