"May that day hasten to us."
"One step at a time, my lord. We've done well to reach this point. Once your authority is secured and the Mallister family's power grows to shield the town, more and more folk will come to settle here."
"We are yet too weak."
Lucan glanced at Alavin, whose youthful features had matured into chiseled lines of strength, but tonight, his eyes held a melancholic depth. "My lord, don't dwell on such thoughts. All will be well."
"I wonder... should enemies besiege our town, how shall we respond?"
"With the aid of the Mollen family and the Cobalt Strike's protection, none would dare encircle us unless Cobalt Strike were to forsake Stormcast, which seems improbable. Your renown for strength and talent is widespread in the Northlands, and many Organizations would welcome you. Cobalt Strike would not be so foolish," Lucan boasted with pride, for the guards had spent the afternoon speaking of Alavin's prowess. They took great pride in him, knowing that his strength was key to the town's revival.
Alavin remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the sleeping town.
“Can I truly safeguard the secret of Atlantis?”
What stance did the Cobalt Strike Commander hold? In the worst-case scenario, if the secret was revealed and they were besieged, what then? To whom could Alavin turn for aid?
The Covert Bloodlore Society? The Mollen family? The Iron family?
They might wish to help, but none would dare stand against the entire Northlands for Alavin’s sake alone.
“Do I place all my hope upon them?”
“No! I must rely on myself!”
Alavin pondered silently for a long while, his gaze drifting away from the ancient city to the distant seas, toward the ruins of the old kingdom that had met its doom.
In the depths of the ocean lay the Watchful Shore. The Tomb of the Kings.
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