[100%]

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Throughout the halls of the Archmage Association, a sudden, heavy silence has fallen over the public offices scattered throughout Meranthe.

With crinkling, rasping scrapes of shuffling parchment, echoes of shifting boots, and heels, clerks have begun to strip the notice boards bare of their active contracts bearing Myridia's seal.

Though, a minimal amount of coins has changed hands in the final, fleeting hours for related reasons. It appears that the vast majority of these contracts remain unfulfilled, promises of gold becoming a void agreement.

A blessing or an ill omen.

For the time being, the Golden Dragon's gaze has turned away from Kindlehelm.

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