The Morreth dispatch arrived at fifth bell on a Crestday. The Physician Corps report arrived at sixth. The Krugvane petition arrived at seventh.
Coldmantle read them in order.
The Morreth dispatch was formal. Garrison Commander Halric's seal, standard quarterly format, routed through the military courier chain. Inside the diplomatic language was a request. A small one. Resupply terms for the permanent garrison's quarterly cinnaite allocation: Halric wanted the delivery schedule moved forward by nine days to align with the engineering corps' maintenance window. The justification was reasonable. The phrasing was precise. And the dispatch had been sent on a courier rotation that guaranteed it would reach her desk with exactly forty-seven minutes before the standard response window closed.
