The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of Tharionson Magna's office, spilling pale gold across the floor, across the edges of the heavy curtains, and across the wide table where reports, sealed letters, casualty lists, investigation records, and court transcripts lay scattered in a disorder that would have been unthinkable for him four months ago.
He sat behind that table in silence, one hand resting against his jaw while the other remained near a stack of papers he had already read more times than he cared to count. Even so, his eyes kept returning to them as though some hidden truth might reveal itself if he simply stared long enough.
