The Hall of Heroes was unlike anything Aziz had ever seen.
At the far end of the hall sat the largest statue, a man seated on a throne, his head tilted in what could only be described as disinterest. His hand rested lazily on the throne's armrest, his entire posture exuding apathy.
The Order called him the Faceless King.
Flanking him were the ten statues, each standing in silent attendance. They, too, were faceless, nameless—but their presence felt no less powerful.
These were the Ten Judgments, the founding members of the Order.
This was the sacred Hall of Heroes, the place where the Order's origins were immortalized in stone.
Before the Faceless King stood Grandmaster Wern, a man barely in his mid-thirties, and yet the youngest to ever hold the title of Grandmaster. His sharp, angular features, marred by faint scars, reflected a calm arrogance.
