The young woman that exited the PTV looked sharp in a perfectly tailored, elegant business suit. It was entirely black, with buttons and cufflinks forged out of silver steel. Her hands were protected from the cold by leather gloves, and her raven black hair moved slightly in the wind.
With alabaster skin and a slender figure, the young woman looked both beautiful and daunting. She resembled a lethal blade, and that impression was only exacerbated by the cold gaze of her striking, strange, vermilion eyes…
Morgan of Valor had come to represent her clan herself.
Sunny silently cursed.
This was… more or less the worst-case scenario. Now that a direct descendant of Anvil of Valor appeared to conduct the negotiations in person, his chances of fooling anyone dropped significantly.
