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Whether Fen could actually keep such a promise, Jackson was not sure. The Old Wardens were notorious throughout history for various reasons, not the least of which was their tendency to exile people from their community.

They were a curious bunch, to be sure. At various points, their reputation had gotten them into quite a bit of hot water, usually from excommunicated members looking to find a way back in or to simply take revenge.

Fairly recently, in fact, there’d been some confusion over whether or not they still existed. Rumors abounded that they’d been wiped out entirely, purportedly by some other enclave that they’d been feuding with for centuries.

None of that bad publicity ever seemed to impact their allure, though. Hell, it might’ve even helped it, in some ways.

Jackson couldn’t say that he fully understood the appeal, but then, he’d never personally visited the Old Wardens and seen what all the fuss was about with his own eyes. He’d only heard about the supposed wonders that they kept all to themselves.

Libraries and debate parlors. Research institutes and theaters. Pools of ethereal water that even reapers could bathe in and enjoy. And countless guarded secrets that even exiled members had not been privy to.

Hyozen, for his part, was one of the reapers who was not particularly impressed.

‘If even half of the things said about them are true,’ the reaper had told him once, ‘then their isolationism is the cruelest of insults to the rest of the world. Keeping such intellectual riches to themselves would serve no other purpose than to empower the few at the expense of the many.’

But then, Hyozen had also originated from a rival enclave, so his views weren’t exactly surprising.

‘Moreover,’ the reaper had gone on, ‘their exclusivity is extreme even by enclave standards. And whom does that serve? Not the world, certainly. The entire purpose of enclaves is to provide a safe environment for reaper families to nurture new generations in order to stave off our ever-dwindling numbers in the world at large. But if they never leave their enclave, then that purpose is moot.’

How Fen had managed to earn his way into their good graces, Jackson very much wanted to know. Assuming that was actually the truth, of course. Fen certainly wasn’t the type to lie, but it was still rather hard to believe.

If it was a lie, though, then whatever house of cards that man had been building over there wasn’t likely to last for much longer.

Which would at least be interesting to see, Jackson supposed. He just hoped it wouldn’t be because of how disastrous it ended up.