Pais was colder than he remembered.
Not in temperature, God knew the weather was mild, pristine even, but in the way doors didn't open anymore. The kind of cold that came from delayed replies, narrowed eyes, and officials who smiled too tightly while not-so-subtly escorting you out.
Elliot Claymore adjusted his coat, smoothing the front with mechanical precision. The envelope in his glove had been folded and refolded too many times to pass as dignified anymore. Inside was a list of names, promises, and whispered offers of trade and allegiance. Useless things, if this didn't work.
"Grand Duke Daniel Rhine will see you now," the aide said finally, barely glancing at him.
Of course he would.
Elliot had pushed every favor, every vestige of Claymore blood and title, just to get this one meeting. He stepped inside, expecting a tired man behind a desk.
What he got instead was a cathedral of silence and a monarch in everything but a crown.
