"Who are you really, Barnet?"
Emery's voice cut through the still air like a blade.
Across from him sat Grand Magus Barnet — wrists and ankles bound, shoulders slumped, yet his eyes still carried the glint of defiance. His aura flickered weakly under the seal's constant drain. Even so, there was arrogance in the way he held his chin.
Emery waited, but the man gave no response.
"It's easy to tell that you were the Brotherhood's biggest client," Emery's tone flat, measured, "Even without reading these."
With a flick of his fingers, a set of papers floated into the air, suspended by strands of spirit energy. They circled above Barnet's head; each document was stamped with the crimson sigil of the Midnight Brotherhood.
Job orders. Mission records. Payment ledgers.
These documents were among the things Annara had recovered from the Midnight Brotherhood's lairs—proof of their crimes, enough to expose their hidden patrons.
