The sharp crack of a titanium water bottle meeting oak tore through the silence of the room, its echo lingering as Headmistress Rheas snapped it onto her desk—a symbolic declaration of the gravity of the situation.
Headmistress Rheas watched as her chancellor paced her office, his expression far from being joyful.
Rheas considered striking him with the piece of tungsten she treasured on her desk—a keepsake from the early days of her command, awarded for strategies that had once turned battles.
It would certainly halt his restless motion. Decades in leadership had taught her the power of subtlety and restraint, yet today, her patience was wearing thin.
She, too, wasn't the least bit pleased by the report they'd received early this morning, but at least she knew how to handle herself. She glared at the gangly man, wondering how on earth he'd been promoted to such a high position when he didn't know how to act under pressure.
