Eldros slept under a restless sky.
The city had changed, though its inhabitants did not yet realize it. Fear and curiosity intertwined in every alley, every market, and every home. The Watcher's influence had spread silently, shaping thoughts and actions without a single blade being drawn.
Arin Vale stood in the shadows of the city walls, surveying the patterns he had woven. Kael moved among the streets below, subtly guiding conversations, planting ideas, and nudging the behavior of those who might be swayed. Every small act added another thread to the growing web of influence.
Riven approached quietly, holding a sheaf of notes. "Kael has been effective," he said. "The city is beginning to act almost as if it expects you everywhere. Even the temple is second-guessing their enforcers."
Arin nodded. "Good. But one operative is not enough. Influence is a network. Ideas must move faster than suspicion. We need more threads, more eyes, more hands."
Kael returned to the hidden courtyard that evening, eyes bright despite exhaustion. "There are others," he said. "Merchants, scribes, even guards. They notice things differently now. They are cautious, curious… willing to follow if given guidance."
Arin studied him. "These are the first disciples of the Veiled Doctrine. They will operate without being seen, without needing orders. Their obedience will be a reflection of understanding, not fear. Each will become a thread, and together they will weave inevitability."
Authority +32
Plans were laid in whispers. Names were chosen carefully. Roles assigned in subtle, unspoken ways. Kael would continue his observation and guidance. Riven would track patterns, identify potential recruits, and analyze the city's responses. Arin himself remained in the shadows, orchestrating the growth without ever appearing.
In the temple, unrest was rising. "He grows stronger every day," one elder said. "Even without appearing, he is shaping the city. We cannot predict his moves."
The panic only strengthened Arin's strategy. Every misstep by the temple, every fearful glance by the people, every rumor whispered in the streets, became a tool in his hands. The Doctrine was no longer just a seed—it was beginning to take root.
By midnight, three more recruits had been quietly drawn into the Veiled Doctrine. Observers, messengers, and manipulators who understood, even partially, the subtle art of influence. Each one invisible to the city, each one shaping it unknowingly.
Arin stood silently, letting the threads grow around him. The city was no longer merely reacting—it was moving according to patterns he had set in motion. And with each action, each thought shaped, his authority increased, his influence spreading like roots beneath the surface.
The Doctrine is no longer a whisper. It is a network.
He allowed himself a faint, unreadable smile. The first seeds had grown. The Watcher was no longer a rumor. He was a force, and the Veiled Doctrine would guide the city toward inevitability, one silent thread at a time.