.
.
.
An hour later, the atmosphere in the Regent's administrative office was heavy enough to crush a diamond.
Julian stood slightly behind and to the right of Elara's grand mahogany desk, wearing a tailored, deep sapphire-blue suit that radiated aristocratic authority. His posture was perfect. His expression was a mask of cold, Northern royalty.
The heavy oak doors opened.
Commander Mahir and Commander Ken stepped into the room. They were in full uniform—heavy black armor polished to a mirror shine, their crimson Vanguard capes sweeping the floor. They marched in perfect synchronization and stopped exactly three paces from the desk.
In complete unison, the two massive beastmen dropped to one knee, bowing their heads.
"Empress," Mahir rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through the floorboards.
Elara did not waste time with pleasantries. She picked up the red-sealed scroll from her desk and held it out.
