The wait was less than a minute. The clerk emerged, nodded once, and Soren entered, boots hitting the marble with a sound so sharp it nearly disguised the tremor in his gut.
Kaelor was at the window, not behind the desk, a subtle play, maybe, or just a personal habit. "You're early," Kaelor said, not looking back.
Soren stopped exactly one meter from the desk, as protocol liked. "I was told to come at once."
"Good." Kaelor turned, arms crossed, the cut of his uniform so rigid it made Soren's own coat look like a costume. "You know why you're here, Vale?"
'Because you like to see people sweat,' Soren thought, but he said: "To receive my orders, sir."
Kaelor let the silence ride. Only when Soren's gaze started to wander did he lift a sealed packet from the desk and hold it out. "You break this outside my sight. You're on assignment the moment you read the first word."
