CHAPTER 87: Hunted

Tunde sat in the private quarters of Draven, the room within his forge reserved for meetings between him and important guests. It was a somewhat small abode, with shelves lining the walls along with different objects ranging from pieces of broken metal to Ethereum and even broken weapons akin to trophies. Illuminated by a series of Ethra crystals, a large desk surrounded by chairs took up the majority of the room, the sweet-smelling oil that permeated the entire room a bit different from the heavy musk that filled the forge itself, something Tunde found oddly himself missing.

Lady Ryka, somehow summoned from the stronghold itself sat on one of the chairs, a cup of her tea in hand, quietly sipping it while Draven sat like a chastised child, a scene Tunde found most hilarious. He kept avoiding the gaze of the woman known as the steward of black rock herself, shooting Tunde accusing looks while under the glare of his wife, Isolde with her one eye, tapping one foot on the ground.