Morgana's office had become a kind of battlefield without blood, though anyone who entered and stayed there for more than a few seconds could feel that something was being destroyed all the same. Piles of documents occupied almost the entire main desk, spreading over side chairs, improvised shelves, and even the expensive carpet that probably belonged to an era when that mansion had still looked like a home rather than an administrative trench. Old contracts, collection letters, renegotiation demands, production records, property inventories, and falsified receipts formed a wall of paper around her.
