The unsealed dispatch crackled as Anper er Yecine crushed it in his fist. Two months since all the documents were put into place, years of meticulous planning on his own time, and now… now the bureaucratic machinery ground forward at a pace that served no one's interests but the Goltbreds.
"Still no good word from the administrative review boards?"
An elderly voice questioning him carried the edge that had been creeping into all their conversations lately. The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair, fingers drumming against the polished wood of a large table around which other faction members wore similarly strained expressions.
The forged documents they'd so carefully inserted should have triggered an immediate sanction. Instead, officials seemed like they were more interested in the 'fun' of cross-referencing transactions beyond the discrepancies they'd highlighted. Anper's words dripped with barely controlled fury.
