The meeting room was cramped and dimly lit, hastily assembled in one of the few buildings still standing after the battle. Makeshift benches lined the walls, occupied by the leaders and representatives of each faction—human adventurers, orcs, and now, unexpectedly, members of the elven and dwarven districts.
Akhil sat at the head of a scarred wooden table, exhaustion evident in every line of his body. His arm was bandaged where he'd reopened old wounds during the fight. Ryan sat to his right, his broken arm in a proper sling now. Aria was on his left, moving stiffly due to her wrapped ribs. Nyla stood near the back, arms crossed, her analytical gaze sweeping over everyone present.
J leaned against the wall, his shattered arm carefully splinted. Nibo occupied a corner, too large for the benches. And scattered throughout were other survivors—guild representatives, orc chieftains, and the newcomers from the other districts.
