Theron sat in a cell in silence, his thoughts drifting as he scanned everything around him.
Though he called this a "cell," it wasn't exactly that. It was more like a glass box, beaming down with golden lights that seemed to want to sink into his pores and into his very soul.
It was the sort of place where it felt like sleep was impossible, and maybe that was exactly the goal here to begin with. Was this supposed to be torture for daring to stand against these people?
The Mandate Guild was quite arrogant in its own right, but maybe it was only right to treat a prisoner who had stolen something so valuable in this way—especially if you were a guild with great prestige.
If there was one thing Theron had learned after being in this world for so long, it was that the greatest power you could wield was actually deterrence. Why fight when you didn't have to, by virtue of your prestige and face?
And the best way to keep that prestige and face?
