Thick air lanced through the hall on the third floor of Blackscale Citadel with the scent of old paper and the sharp tang of high-grade tech.
Eyes drifted across seats and tables, but Leon sat quietly.
His hands remained on his lap, fingers twitching whenever Lord Luo Fang's gaze fell on him, as if he was still expected to feel the hilt of the Tartarus or the rough texture of sacks that carried the Opal stones.
Hei Yung lifted his gaze at Lord Luo Fang, then placed a smart device on the table. "The count came in at nine hundred."
His voice resonated against the rainbow-tinted glasses as he glanced at Leon. "One hundred stones couldn't be accrued as we were mandated."
Lord Luo Fang leaned forward, while the light from the window turned his white hair into a halo of spun silver.
"Hm." He looked at Hei Yung's face, then shook his head. "The Council of Seol-Mujin does not usually reward math that doesn't add up."
