The Walker Clan Hall was quiet, but it was not peaceful. The silence felt controlled, measured, almost deliberate. Lamps burned low along the stone walls, and the guards outside stood straight without speaking. Nothing in the hall suggested panic. That was the way Zilton Walker preferred it. When the power was steady, it did not need noise.
Only two people were in Zilton Walker's study room. Zilton Walker sat behind a wide wooden table carved from dark wood. Across from him stood a man dressed in plain grey robes. His face was ordinary, easy to forget. His presence was steady and restrained. Nothing about him demanded attention.
That was intentional. No one in the Walker Clan knew this man's true role, or that he existed in the Walker Clan. He was not listed among the elders. He did not attend any public meetings. He did not train in the courtyards with other cultivators. To most, he did not exist. Only Zilton knew his purpose.
