The official communication arrived shortly after sunset, slipping into the Palace systems without fanfare or warning.
There was no grand ceremonial announcement, no stern investigator standing in a vaulted chamber to deliver the verdict in person. Instead, it materialized through the relay networks with the cold, mechanical precision that defined all Tribunal administration—efficient, impersonal, and utterly devoid of mercy or warmth.
Silver script bloomed above the central communications crystal in the heart of the strategy chamber, layered with dense authenticated encryption codes that shimmered like frost on glass. The authentication was unmistakable. This was no provisional notice, no tentative recommendation open to negotiation. It was official. Final enough to reshape lives.
