The vaulted limestone ceilings of the central administrative archives echoed with the muffled, rhythmic ticking of the master brass chronometer. Outside, the slate-grey mists of the Shadowfall Domain rolled thick across the high mountain ridges, swallowing the distant perimeter towers in a shroud of damp twilight.
I stood before a towering, wrought-iron shelving unit, reviewing the final structural integration manifests for the upcoming continental summit. In the precise architecture of the Neutral Alliance, a single overlooked clause in a security or trade treaty could unravel months of diplomatic labor.
My personal comm-crystal chimed—a sharp, single pulse of blue light that rippled softly against the cold stone wall.
I touched the activation rune, projecting a low-intensity holograph
