Lord Varnis stared at Asher for a long moment—his eyes narrowing, lips pressed tight. The oppressive pressure he'd summoned now slowly ebbed away, like mist withdrawing from a sunlit field.
The silence stretched—pregnant with calculation.
"The Red Womb of Order," Lord Varnis repeated, this time with caution, as if tasting the words and not liking their flavor. "There are few who even know of its existence… fewer still who dare speak of it openly."
"And none," Asher said calmly, "who've ever invited an outsider into it."
A flicker of interest sparked in the Patriarch's eyes—respect mingled with wariness. "You understand what you ask for?"
"I wouldn't have said it otherwise."
Lord Varnis exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. The velvet of his high-collared robe whispered as he shifted, the weight of his role pressing down visibly upon his shoulders.
