Draven, under the guise of Dravis, gave the guildmaster a curt nod, his cold, calculating gaze never leaving the older man's face. He didn't bother with pleasantries or formalities—gratitude wasn't something he often expressed, and this moment wasn't an exception. His silence was not one of politeness, but a subtle layer of scrutiny. As the guildmaster spoke, Draven's mind worked quickly, analyzing every detail about the man before him, assessing his role, his power, and his place in the grander scheme of things.