Seclusion

Aric stood near a table, examining a map of the empire with deliberate precision. Around him, the soft murmur of his trusted circle filled the space. Each word exchanged was part of a larger game, a puzzle Aric had carefully crafted, piece by piece.

Serina entered, her steps light but purposeful. "The Guardians of the Flame have sent word," she said, her tone sharp with satisfaction. "They're willing to meet."

Aric's lips curved upward. "It begins, then. Serina, prepare the necessary assurances for their leader. We'll present ourselves as saviors, not usurpers. Hitoshi, you'll join me. They'll trust the wisdom of an elder."

Hitoshi looked up from where he sat, his face calm, his hands folded over his cane. "Of course. A gentle nudge here, a carefully chosen word there. The Guardians will see the wisdom of allying with you."

"And what of the High Inquisitor and High Priest?" Serina asked.