"The Sovereign is bleeding into the earth."
The Arbiter spoke the words to an entirely empty room. His sanctum in the Golden Citadel was a masterpiece of legalistic architecture, designed not for comfort or worship, but for the perfect organization of information. The walls were lined with millions of crystalline data-slates, each glowing with the cold, golden light of Korthane's infinite bureaucracy.
He did not sit on a throne. He stood at the center of a massive, circular table of polished white marble, the surface entirely covered in floating holographic ledgers.
The Arbiter tapped a single, slender finger against the marble.
