In stark contrast to the devastated landscape on the border, the interior of the military palace remained immersed in an almost artificial calm, as if the outside world had no right to cross those walls.
The soft light filtering through the stained-glass windows tinged the room with cool, elegant tones, reflecting on the impeccable floor and the long table where neatly arranged stacks of documents awaited their final destination.
Seated at the head of the table, Serafall maintained a perfectly aligned posture, her pen gliding precisely across the paper as her signature was repeated in firm, flawless lines.
There was no hesitation in her movements, no unnecessary haste… only efficiency refined over years of command.
Each document was read, absorbed, and resolved in seconds, as if her mind operated on multiple levels simultaneously, separating the essential from the disposable with an almost frightening ease.
