Ravenshade Palace stood tall beneath a gray sky with its masterfully constructed spires rising like watchful silhouettes above the capital. The wards etched into its walls hummed with steady power, unchallenged for millennia.
Inside, the atmosphere was controlled and restrained.
Tharion Ravenshade stood near the long table in his private strategy chamber with a thin crystal slate resting in his hand. Lines of sigils scrolled slowly across its surface as he reviewed the latest field report.
One of his most loyal and accomplished generals, who was trusted with 50,000 Ravenshade soldiers and ordered to help bring the end of the Vesper Consortium, had written it plainly, without flourish.
