The digital chime of the High Envoy’s master console rang softly through the vaulted silence of my private office, signaling an incoming secure transmission from the outer perimeter checkpoints.
I didn’t look up from the manifest spread across my desk. The final logistical tallies for the Grandos continental summit were staggering, demanding absolute precision from every department under my command.
"Report," I commanded, my voice cutting cleanly through the ambient hum of the rune-stabilized air exchangers.
The wall-mounted comm-slate flickered to life, projecting the crisp, sharp visual feed of Captain Vance, head of the citadel’s outer defense grid. His expression was taut, etched with the disciplined focus of a man accustomed to managing volatile diplomatic anomalies.
"High Envoy,"
