Chapter 213: The Iron Grip
The headquarters of the Iron Syndicate was a fortress of black steel and soot, squatting like a toad in the center of Rolune's Industrial Sector.
It was a building that breathed; steam vented rhythmically from its iron gills, and the low, grinding vibration of heavy machinery hammered in the chest of anyone foolish enough to approach.
Inside, the air tasted of rust and dried blood.
Vorgus Iron-Hand, the Guild Master of the Syndicate, sat behind a desk made of reinforced plating.
He was a massive man, a bear of a human whose physical presence filled the room.
His right arm had been replaced by a heavy magi-tech prosthetic—a brutal piston-driven claw that hummed with an unstable, red mana light.
He wasn't reading a report.
He was crushing one.
"'The First Year Monarch's Collection,'" Vorgus read from the crumpled holographic flyer, his voice a grinding growl that vibrated against the metal walls. "
