The city of Eldros had not slept that night.
Rumors moved faster than the rain had. By dawn, every alley, every inn, every marketplace echoed the same question: Who is he?
Arin Vale did not move among the streets today. He watched from the shadows of an abandoned building, letting the whispers come to him. Curiosity was a powerful tool—it made people act, speak, and reveal themselves.
It did not take long.
By mid-morning, a young man approached cautiously. He wore the simple robes of a scribe, hands trembling slightly. He did not hide, but neither did he step too close. His eyes were sharp, measuring, intelligent.
Arin tilted his head. He had been expecting someone like this.
"You are… the one they call the Watcher?" the man asked, voice low but clear.
Arin's lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. He did not answer immediately. Instead, he studied the man. Observed the way he carried himself, the subtle fear in his posture, the careful words he had chosen.
"Yes," Arin said finally, his voice calm. "I am. And you are?"
"I… I am called Riven," the scribe replied. "I know things. I understand… patterns, rumors, influence. I believe I can serve you."
Arin considered him. Authority did not come from obedience, but from recognition. This man was curious. Observant. He would notice, even without being told, what needed to be done.
Authority +7
"Very well," Arin said. "Watch carefully, Riven. You will see how silence shapes the world."
Riven bowed deeply. Then, before leaving, he asked a question that mattered more than any other:
"Why do they fear you… yet follow unknowingly?"
Arin's eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the gray light of the storm clouds.
"They fear what they cannot understand," he said. "And they follow what seems inevitable. Influence does not need explanation—it only needs presence."
Riven nodded, as if he had understood. Perhaps he had, in part. Perhaps not. But that did not matter. A single observer was all Arin needed to plant the first true seed of the Veiled Doctrine.
By nightfall, Riven had already begun his work. Rumors became subtler, shaping opinions rather than startling people. Those who saw Arin as a mere man began whispering his deeds as omens. Those who doubted began fearing what they did not understand.
And all the while, Arin watched. Calm. Patient. Silent.
Authority +10
The first interpreter had been found. The first thread of control woven.
Arin allowed himself a quiet thought, barely more than a whisper:
"Let the world talk… it will serve me better than any sword."
The storm passed, leaving behind wet streets, scared hearts, and a single man who had already begun to change the world—one rumor at a time.