Vespera stood on the gravel in front of the Eclipse headquarters at nine in the morning, while somewhere under the airport her son's guild was pouring tea aboard a plane with two floors.
The wind out of the east already carried a hum off the runways that had every window on the lot faintly ringing.
The Shogunate Circle's cars had come through the checkpoint ten minutes earlier, two of them, dark, polished, and full of Japan.
The guards unloaded in silence and formed a single rank facing the building, travel uniforms pressed, a silver crescent pinned at every shoulder.
Every one of them was awakened, and the banked mana coming off them sat heavy enough on the air that the checkpoint guard stood straighter for the rest of his shift.
Their captain crossed the gravel alone, stopped at a respectful distance, and bowed to Vespera, low and held.
