When Corvus entered the grand council chamber, the meeting had not yet begun. Baldrek stood tall just behind him like a silent sentinel, while several of leaders jostled for a chance to have a word with Corvus. Corvus responded to each of them with polite, measured replies, his tone calm yet distant, his presence commanding.

  The air shifted subtly when Sardiun appeared, pushing through the small crowd that had gathered around Corvus. Without saying a word, the other leaders quietly stepped aside, their deference evident. It was clear Sardiun sought a private word with Corvus, and no one dared to intrude.

  After a brief exchange of formal greetings, Sardiun finally broached the subject that had drawn him near.

  “I hope you weren’t injured last night, lord Corvus.” he said, his voice low, tinged with concern.

  Corvus had expected Sardiun would learn of the incident eventually, but he hadn’t anticipated it happening so soon. Nevertheless, his expression remained composed.

  “A few stray bandits couldn’t lay a finger on me.” he replied with unwavering confidence, brushing off the danger as though it were no more than a passing inconvenience.

  But Sardiun seemed unconvinced. There was a flicker in his eyes—something between suspicion and intrigue. He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Corvus.

  “If there is anything you require, I remain at your service.” he said finally, his voice softer now, more personal. Then, casting a glance around the chamber and noting that the others were ready, he added:

  “Shall we begin the meeting?”

  Corvus gave a slight nod and strode to his seat at the head of the table. The other leaders followed suit, taking their places in silence. Within moments, all eyes turned to Sardiun. With a firm tone that cut through the murmurs of the hall, he opened the session.

  Compared to the intense discussions of the previous two days, today’s council session unfolded with a surprising calm. Most of the contentious issues had already been addressed, and the leaders, though still guarded, spoke with a touch more ease. The room, once brimming with suspicion and veiled accusations, now felt tempered—like a battlefield where the weapons had been lowered, if only temporarily.

  Still, the matter of the Lightstones hung in the air like a silent shadow. On more than one occasion, a few of the high-ranking leaders subtly returned to the topic, hoping to coax some commitment from Corvus. Their phrasing was careful, respectful, almost diplomatic in tone—but the intent was clear. They wanted access, or at least some clarity, regarding the power that had become central to Rhazgord’s rising power.

  Corvus, as he had done before, remained immovable. His answers, if they could be called that, were cloaked in ambiguity. A polite smile here, a slight nod there. He offered no promises, no figures, and certainly no concessions. If the Lightstones were to be shared, it would not be under pressure.

  As the final matters were wrapped up and Sardiun shifted in his seat to bring the council to a formal close, Corvus spoke again, this time with renewed weight in his voice.

  “If I may,” he said, drawing the attention of every man and woman in the chamber. “To address the unresolved matters still before us, and to better prepare ourselves for what lies ahead, I propose that we reconvene one month from now. The next council shall be held in Sorbaj, the capital of Rhazgord.”

  A low murmur rippled through the chamber. Some leaders leaned toward one another, whispering their reactions, while others sat back, quietly analyzing the proposition. Sorbaj was a formidable city, rarely opened to foreign leaders, its name alone conjuring images of discipline, mystery, and stone-bound pride.

  Then Corvus turned to Sardiun, meeting his eyes directly, his voice deepening with purpose.

  “If you agree to this, my father, Sanguinar Sakhaar Tiamat, will be present at the next gathering. And...” he paused, letting the room quiet once more, “we would be honored to receive the Emperor of Sizat as our guest.”

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  It was an unexpected move—unorthodox and daring. The Emperor of Sizat was not known to travel. As the most powerful man on the continent, he ruled from the heart of his empire, and others made the pilgrimage to seek his audience, not the reverse. For Corvus to extend a personal invitation, and in such a public forum, was a calculated act of diplomacy—and of challenge.

  Some in the room looked at Sardiun with a flicker of amusement or curiosity, wondering how he would respond. Others watched Corvus, weighing the meaning behind the offer. Was it an olive branch? A provocation? Or both?

  Sardiun took a breath, his expression calm but unreadable. His mind, no doubt, was racing through possibilities—how this would be perceived in Sizat, what it might mean for alliances, for pride, for precedent.

  “While I appreciate and respect your offer...” he said at last, his voice smooth and composed, “I am not authorized to make such a decision on behalf of His Majesty. However…” He allowed a faint, knowing smile to touch the edge of his lips.

  “I believe the Emperor will regard your invitation with interest. You shall receive our reply in due time—by letter.”

  His words were diplomatic, measured—but there was something behind them. Perhaps curiosity. Perhaps the stirrings of opportunity. Or perhaps the early signs of a larger game beginning to take shape.

  Corvus gave a slight nod, signaling that he had nothing further to say. A few quiet moments passed, and then Sardiun formally brought the council to a close. Before dismissing the room, he urged all leaders to carry out their responsibilities swiftly and with precision.

  Compared to the previous days, today’s meeting had concluded early. Many of the delegates, seeing an opportunity, wasted no time in preparing for their return journeys. With business concluded and the political air temporarily cleared, the roads began to fill with banners and retinues making their way out of Rax.

  Sardiun, too, paid a final visit to Corvus’s quarters to formally offer his respects. After a brief but cordial exchange, he departed alongside the Sizat prince, intent on delivering the council’s outcome to the Emperor without delay. There was much to report—and perhaps even more to interpret.

  Corvus’s situation was no less urgent. He was expected to return to Sorbaj to deliver his own report to the High Council, and ultimately, to his father. Yet, before leaving Rax, there were still a few matters he had to tend to. Chief among them was a meeting with King Justinianus and Belisarius, an essential step toward establishing the long-anticipated trade union between Rhazgord and the Kingdom of Adler. However, fate had intervened. The Senate had convened immediately following the council session, drawing both King Justinianus and Belisarius away. With the political elite entangled in parliamentary affairs, Corvus was left to adjust his plans.

  Determined not to lose the day, he took to the streets of Rax with a new objective in mind. His destination lay in the city’s less reputable quarter—a district of crooked alleyways, fading stone, and the kind of silence that felt more like warning than peace.

  Thanks to Baral’s earlier negotiations, Corvus had quietly secured ownership of a once-neglected inn, which was now being transformed into the nerve center of Rhazgord’s intelligence network within the city. Its location, obscured and easily overlooked, was ideal. From here, agents could observe, relay, and operate in the shadows.

  As Corvus approached the building, two cloaked warriors emerged from the narrow side street, silent figures dressed in heavy black robes, their faces mostly hidden beneath cowls. They flanked him wordlessly, guiding him without ceremony. The inn, from a distance, appeared to be undergoing renovations. Workers bustled about the facade, repairing walls and replacing worn beams. The front doors were barred shut, and the air was thick with the scent of sawdust and fresh plaster.

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  To the casual observer, it was a simple renovation—perhaps an ambitious merchant restoring a valuable property. That illusion was precisely the point. A renovated inn attracted no suspicion. No one questioned why it no longer looked like a ruin; investment demanded improvement, and improvement was expected.

  The first major change had already been made: a new sign hung proudly above the entrance, carved in firm, red-tinged stone. It read: The Red Rock Inn. Corvus glanced at it with muted approval. The name, while simple, held a quiet weight to it—solid, grounded, unassuming.

  Rather than enter through the front, Corvus and his escorts circled around to the back. It was important to avoid the workers; none of them knew who truly owned the building, and that ignorance was to be preserved. Once they reached the rear entrance, one of the cloaked warriors knocked in a discreet rhythm, and the heavy wooden door creaked open.

  Zarqa stood waiting on the other side.

  He greeted Corvus with a nod of acknowledgment, no words, just the familiar understanding of warriors who had long operated together. While the two escorts returned to the alleyways to ensure no one had followed, Zarqa led Corvus inside, down a narrow flight of stairs and deep into the inn’s foundations.

  The cellar beneath the Red Rock Inn was more than just storage. It was larger and deeper than most basements in Rax, its design hinting at older architecture—perhaps built during an age when the city’s foundations were first laid. Torches flickered along the walls, casting shadows across crates, weapons racks, and parchment-strewn tables.

  Unlike the clamor above, there was no confusion down here. This was no ordinary renovation—this was preparation. Dozens of figures moved with precision through the dimly lit space: scouts, scribes, code-runners, and shadow-warriors loyal to Corvus alone. All of them were dressed plainly, but their eyes burned with purpose. They were Rhazgord’s ghosts, men and women who had no names in official records, only assignments.

  The cellar had once been a vast, cold, and empty space. But now, everything had changed. Within a corridor-like structure, new rooms were being built. Some men were laying bricks, others were taking measurements based on drawn-up plans, while others were organizing documents into newly installed shelves. This cellar was no longer just a simple storage area—it was slowly transforming into an intelligence headquarters.

  Despite all the intense activity, the most striking part of the cellar was a dimly lit corner where ten men, tied with thick ropes, sat slumped. Their bruises and swollen faces made it clear they had endured severe interrogation. Some had passed out from exhaustion; others groaned in pain. But all of them understood they hadn’t been brought here by chance.

  These men were key figures of the Golden Fang gang, one of the most dangerous underground groups in the city of Rax. From their leader Varos, to the scrawny, bespectacled young accountant who ran the gang’s finances, to their enforcers and trusted intermediaries—every vital member was here. Not one was missing. It was as if the gang’s brain had been extracted and placed in this cellar.

  Before approaching them, Corvus and Zarqa stepped into one of the newly constructed rooms. It was simple but functional: a table, a chair, and a locked cabinet. The walls still bore the scent of fresh plaster. There was no door yet—it was a temporary pocket of silence amidst the chaos of transformation.

  Zarqa unlocked the cabinet and pulled out a few documents. He carefully placed them on the table as Corvus sat down and began to read. Zarqa stood silently by, ready to answer any questions.

  The first documents contained detailed analyses of other gangs operating in Rax, what trades they controlled, where they operated, who allied with whom… The streets weren’t just filled with filth and despair anymore—they were full of knowledge.

  The next set of documents described how illegal operations were organized: human trafficking, underground gambling houses, black-market alcohol, bribery networks, and brutal debt collections.

  But what caught Corvus’ attention came after those: notes about the gang’s “emergency cash vaults”. Hidden in various locations, these stashes were known to only a select few and protected by codes. Now, they were logged and exposed.

  Then came a list—names of politicians and wealthy merchants allegedly involved in these illegal dealings, along with information on where incriminating documents could be found.

  And finally, the most critical section: the documents on the illegal trade of Lightstones.

  Across the continent, Lightstone trade was strictly controlled by ruling governments. Anyone caught trading it illegally faced severe punishment. But where profit reigned, laws faltered. In Varos’ testimony, he named several merchants and politicians suspected of involvement. He hadn’t witnessed their actions firsthand, but he had heard enough to raise suspicion. Of particular note was that some of these merchants were suspected of smuggling Lightstones through Rax, one of the continent’s most important trade hubs.

  This was precisely what Corvus had been looking for.

  Despite the great distance between Rhazgord and Adler, it was entirely possible that illegal Lightstone dealings in Rhazgord were being funneled through Adler. And this network likely included not just merchants but high-ranking officials untouchable by the law.

  Another document was equally valuable from an intelligence perspective. It explained, in great detail, how one could obtain forged Adler citizenship. It listed the fake documents required, the names of those who could arrange them, and even how much each service would cost. Corvus now had a way to equip his agents with Adler identities—a crucial step for expanding Rhazgord’s presence in Rax.

  After reading through everything carefully, Corvus closed his eyes. These documents had come from the confessions of just a few men. And yet, they held the power to shake the inner workings of entire kingdoms.

  A detailed and ambitious plan had already begun to crystallize in Corvus’ mind—one that would reshape not only Rhazgord’s presence in Rax but also its long-term influence across the continent.

  The first phase of this operation centered around legitimacy. Corvus would carefully select a group of loyal warriors—individuals who were not only intelligent and discreet but also fluent in the Adler language and customs. These operatives would be provided with forged documents granting them Adler citizenship, a process made possible through the illicit networks exposed by the Golden Fang gang. Backed by financial resources drawn from Rhazgord’s treasury and the confiscated wealth of the Golden Fang, these agents would establish seemingly legitimate businesses across diverse sectors, merchant houses, shipping companies, storage depots, and even small banks. This was an idea previously proposed by Baral when Corvus was still in Rhazgord.

  Their purpose would go far beyond turning a profit. These operations would act as both fronts and listening posts. By embedding themselves in the economic heart of Adler society, the agents would gradually earn the trust of local elites—wealthy merchants, influential guild leaders, and perhaps even members of the Senate. Through trade partnerships and everyday transactions, they would collect information on trade routes, key supply chains, taxation systems, and the financial power brokers of the city. These insights would feed directly into Rhazgord’s fledgling intelligence service now rooted in Rax, allowing it to monitor shifts in the continental economy and influence policy decisions indirectly through economic pressure.

  Simultaneously, the second phase would unfold in the underworld—a mirror image of the first, but wrapped in shadow. With intelligence extracted from the beaten and bound captives of the Golden Fang, Corvus would lay the foundations of a new criminal organization. It would recruit from among Adler’s disaffected youth, former mercenaries, and street-hardened thugs. Though it would appear to be just another violent gang vying for control of the alleyways, in reality, it would be a tool of Rhazgord’s covert apparatus—silent but precise.

  At its inception, the gang’s goal would be to gain recognition and dominance in the criminal ecosystem. Only once they had solidified their presence would they move into more sensitive operations: weapons trade, smuggling and, most importantly, the illegal Lightstone trade. This particular trade was what most interested Corvus. Though Lightstone commerce was regulated by every kingdom on the continent, the demand for unrestricted access had created a vast black market. By subtly injecting Rhazgord Lightstones into that market—under Sanguinar’s careful sanction—they could create a dual benefit: funnel much-needed gold back to Rhazgord while building channels into clandestine trading circles across the continent.

  Furthermore, through the gang’s operations, Rhazgord’s agents would establish ties with underground players, smugglers, forgers, fences, and blackmailers, creating an intelligence-gathering web beneath the surface of Adler’s society. This would allow them to track movements that would otherwise remain invisible to traditional spies: secret deals, hidden alliances, whispers of betrayal.

  In time, these two branches, the public and the hidden, would evolve in tandem. New operatives would be trained in Rhazgord, not just in swordsmanship or reconnaissance, but in languages, accounting, espionage, and diplomacy. These agents would replace or support the original pioneers, expanding operations into other Adler cities, and eventually other kingdoms. The network would grow, like a spider’s web stretched across the continent, with its center always rooted in Sorbaj.

  For now, though, Corvus knew these were still ideas, powerful, dangerous ideas, but unrefined. The next step was clear: before he departed Rax, the entire plan had to be put into writing. Its goals, structure, personnel, and logistics would be outlined in full. Trusted lieutenants like Zarqa would be brought into the fold. Only then could the machinery begin to move.

  And once it did, Rhazgord would no longer be seen as a remote warrior nation, but as a silent power embedded in the arteries of the continent, listening, learning, and waiting.