Pride Standing at the Edge of Ruin
Still now that all of the fallen nobles in Fantom City had joined their cause, the actual nobility in Fantom City should have already caught wind of what was happening.
Nothing this large stayed hidden.
Not in a city built on whispers.
Not in a place where information flowed faster than blood.
Lane walked beside Brinda through a quiet street, the late afternoon sun stretching their shadows long across the stone path. The air carried a strange stillness—like the calm before something inevitable.
"They know," Brinda said casually, breaking the silence as she brushed a strand of purple hair behind her ear. "Maybe not everything… but enough."
Lane didn't look at her.
"I know."
Her voice was steady.
Unbothered.
But her mind was already moving ahead.
Most nobles would dismiss it.
Weak gathering with weak.
Fallen nobles clinging together like broken blades trying to feel sharp again.
Pathetic.
Harmless.
That's how they would see it.
