The amber glow of the oil lamps cast long, erratic shadows across the vaulted stone ceiling of the High Envoy’s private study. Outside, the restless winds of the Shadowfall Domain whipped against the reinforced quartz glass, carrying the faint, melodic chiming of the hourly ward-clocks.
There were one hundred and sixty-seven chapters—or administrative cycles, as the diplomatic registrars tallied them—remaining until the grand continental summit in Grandos reached its final, binding ratification. Every hour brought a fresh avalanche of legislative petitions, security adjustments, and cross-border trade amendments that required my direct authorization.
I leaned over the expansive ebony desk, my pen gliding smoothly across a vellum scroll containing the revised health and safety mandates fo
