The Grand Assembly Hall of the First Spire had never seen a sovereign quite like this.
High upon the tiered dais, where Grandmaster Volkov had once held terrifying court in gold-stitched robes, Kaelen Vance reclined sideways across the white jade throne. He was wearing his favorite loose gray flannel bathrobe, a soft woolen sash tied loosely around his waist.
His bare feet rested comfortably atop a red velvet bolster. His straw hat hung from the corner of the throne’s carved dragon armrest.
Below the dais, twelve masked elders of the Alchemy Council knelt on the polished marble floor. Their foreheads were pressed firmly against the stone, their silken sleeves trembling with quiet terror.
At Kaelen’s right side, Sera Thorne stood tall in her gray leather tunic.
She held the thick, leather-bound Overtime Grudge Ledger open in both hands, her gray eyes scanning the ink-stained entries with ruthless precision. Beside her sat Deacon Vane, his ink-stained fingers flying as he rapidly clicked his brass abacus.
“Item forty-four,” Sera read aloud in a cool, businesslike cadence that echoed through the vaulted hall. “Unscheduled disruption of the Senior’s afternoon rest on Day Forty-Two.”
“That was thirty High-Grade stones,” Deacon Vane announced, flicking two wooden beads with a crisp snap.
