Elijah Barnett strolled through the bustling streets of Central, his mind awash with the machinations that had become his daily existence. The theatrical speech he had given the other day had precisely the effect he intended: chaos and division within the Mage Association. Every word, every inflection, was calculated to stir up emotions and pit factions against each other. The Morning Star had an agenda, and it was up to him to make that vision a reality.
He nodded and smiled at the citizens who recognized him, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. "Good evening, Mrs. Hawthorne. How's your husband doing?" he asked a familiar shopkeeper, his smile warm and genuine.
"He's much better, thanks to your recommendation for that healer," Mrs. Hawthorne replied, her eyes shining with gratitude.
