A crimson wooden scroll case struck the reception table of the Lunar Pavilion, its brass fixtures rattling against the polished cedar boards.
Garrick stood on the approach flagstones, his torn robes replaced by a tailored tunic of heavy scarlet silk, though the dark bruises from the Ashen Gorge still showed beneath his jawline. Five senior enforcers from the Crimson Falcon faction stood at his back, their hands gripping the hilts of their family swords as two junior disciples unrolled a formal challenge scroll stamped with the scarlet falcon seal. The humiliation in the sulfur trench had destroyed Garrick's standing within the western clans, turning him into a laughingstock among the tea houses on Eastern Thoroughfare.
To salvage his reputation before his father cut off his quarterly min
