58 An Obsidian Councilor

Within a finely furnished office located in an unknown place, a man stood close to the windows, ignoring the fine chair and exquisite desk behind him.

The blond hair on his head was a lot longer than a man's, but a tad bit shorter than a woman's. He had a few wrinkles covering his face, displaying his age, and a short beard that was finely trimmed.

His outfit was also reminiscent of the room—grandiose and expensive-looking.

He was watching the events of the marketplace—the Black Market—and a smile was on his face.

As one of the six members of the Obsidian Council, it pleased him to see the community thriving.

As he smiled and sipped his wine, his moment of reminiscing was cut short by a knock on the door.

The man's green eyes darted to the door, and his curled up lips slowly fell.

"Come in."

The door slowly opened, and a man dressed in an expensive waistcoat, as well as an overall formal entire walked in.