Night draped softly over Black Tortoise City. The lanterns outside the City Lord's Mansion flickered in the wind, painting slow, trembling circles of light across the stone floor. Inside, the mansion's study glowed with a gentler warmth — the smell of parchment, ink, and faint star tea mingling in the quiet air.
Luciel sat behind his broad oak desk, papers spread in neat disorder before him. Across from him sat Mirean Moon and her daughter, Agni Moon. The faint shimmer of lamplight traced the curve of Mirean's hair, silver-blue as flowing water. Agni, fiery-haired and restless as ever, tapped a finger on the table, her eyes catching sparks from the flame.
They had been at it for hours, discussing the plans for the city's next great endeavor — trade.
Luciel leaned back, voice even but carrying the weight of command. "How is the customs clearance document model coming along?"
