Gerard arrived at the prime minister's office already furious.
The journey through Deira had done nothing to improve his mood.
If anything, every kilometer from the eastern checkpoint had made it worse.
Nuria did not even have the decency to hide its wealth.
The roads were immaculate despite the winter cold, cleared before Gerard's convoy reached them and warmed in sections by ether systems embedded beneath the stone. The capital rose around the river in layers of restored buildings, old towers standing beside new construction without the disorganized ugliness Gerard had expected from an empire hidden behind a Gate for seventy-seven years. Public transit moved quietly along glowing routes, commercial districts were crowded, and he hadn't seen the neglected infrastructure he had privately hoped would prove Nuria's reputation exaggerated.
It was offensive.
