Arthur's table had turned into a battlefield.
The younger attendees were practically tripping over themselves, scrambling to pour Solivair tea, to raise their glasses in his honor, to seize any moment that might win them his favor.
It was shameless.
Hugo and Ryder watched from across the banquet hall, their concern growing by the second. They knew Arthur wasn't someone who could be easily manipulated.
But this wasn't about Arthur's intelligence. It was about Solivair. A man like him wouldn't sit at that table without an agenda.
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