The city welcomed the dawn in golden hues.
From the palace minarets, the walled city looked like a beast slowly awakening—silent, yet every corner pulsed with movement. Toward the market, cart wheels groaned and squeaked. The scents of spices drifted upward into the air. The chime of coins rang out, even though the hour was still early.
Zaber leaned against the balcony railing, gazing downward.
Today he was not watching knights. He was watching the roads.
Along the main trade artery leading into the palace, black-and-green banners rippled in the breeze.
The Merchants' Guild.
Zaber's lips barely moved.
"The board is expanding…"
Guild headquarters
The place smelled distinctly of money.
In the closed chamber on the third floor, seven people sat.
Among them was one who held absolute silence.
His name was plain.
The Observer.
No one ever spoke his real name.
His task was not commerce.
He collected information.
He moved between branches and observed.
