The commanding voice of the guildmaster cut through all the noise of the hall; everyone fell into silence. It seemed as if even the air stiffened. Stepping forward, his silver locks glistened under the light; his sharp gaze swept across the crowd, revealing a man of countless battles carved into his wrinkled face; he commanded both respect and fear.
"Enough," he said, his voice firm and heavy with authority. The room fell silent. His gaze landed on the young man standing calmly at the center. "You," he said, pointing at Ronan. "Are you the one they call Ronan?"
Ronan stood tall, completely unbothered by the attention. His posture was relaxed, his face unreadable. "Yeah," he replied, his tone calm, almost lazy. "That's me."
The guildmaster's eyes narrowed as he studied Ronan. The room was tense. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Finally, the guildmaster spoke again.
