Barnaby dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief, his round face glistening with sweat under the glow of the mana lamps.
"The situation is… unfavorable, Young Master, I mean, Lord Zero."
Barnaby corrected himself hastily, glancing at the masked figure sitting behind the mahogany desk.
Even though he knew it was Damien under the porcelain mask, the air in the room made his instincts scream danger.
The playful boy who rescued him was gone. In his place sat a statue radiating a suffocating, heavy pressure.
"Speak," Zero's voice emerged, distorted by the mask's enchantment. It sounded like gravel grinding against steel.
"It's the Steel Guild," Barnaby stammered, shuffling his papers.
"They supply 80% of the refined mithril and iron in Gravestone. We need those materials for the new assembly line."
"And?"
"And… Guildmaster Voros has blocked our shipment. He says the Black Thread is an 'unverified entity.
