As soon as Arkas mentioned blackmail, a loud laugh echoed through the room.
The sound was deep, hearty, and utterly amused. My gaze snapped to Arkas, but his face remained perfectly still, stoic as ever. Yet, the laughter grew louder. It wasn't him.
Shadows swirled in front of Arkas's desk, twisting together like a tornado before parting to reveal a tall, thin old man clad in a black robe. His white hair and beard gleamed under the light, and his silver eyes practically sparkled with amusement.
I barely had time to process what I was seeing before Steve blurted out, "Holy fuck."
Edgar Smith.
The Edgar Smith.
One of the strongest Grandmaster-ranked individuals alive. The man who spearheaded the department handling all foreign affairs of the Empire. The one who sat at negotiation tables with beings from other worlds and races. And here he was, laughing at us like we were a comedy act.
Steve and I straightened immediately, our backs snapping into a salute.
