"Mr. Liam, your ability to synthesize the cure so effortlessly... it is a miracle. To me and my brothers, you are a godsend. From this moment forth, every man under the Iron Syndicate banner in Port Haven owes you a blood debt. We are yours to command, unto death." Wayne Wolfe spoke with a raw, guttural sincerity as he remained on one knee, his head bowed low in the tradition of the Order.
"Rise, Wayne," Liam replied, his voice a cool breeze cutting through the heavy tension of the room. "I have no desire for an army. My only request is that you refrain from disturbing the peace of my domestic life. I am a man who values his privacy."
Liam was acutely aware of the Iron Syndicate's reputation. In the shadowed world of The Veil, they were whispered about as a ruthless collection of mercena
