The recruitment at Flower Hall was over.
But the ripples it created were only just beginning to spread beneath the surface of the Royal Capital.
In three days, the name Velin Klein went from being a laughingstock in noble salons to a topic of hushed discussion in the taverns of the artisan district—an enlightened lord.
Merit points. Contribution determines status. Meritocracy. A bloodline is just one type of ability.
These ideas, spread by the hundred-plus artisans and apprentices packing their bags and preparing to head south, were sown like seeds in every corner of the Royal Capital.
They were taking root.
In an alley across from Golden Cross Avenue, Tristan leaned against a damp wall, the shadow of his hood completely obscuring his face.
He had been here, silently observing, for three days.
In those three days, he had used every connection he had to thoroughly investigate the past and present of that southern Baron.
