The parliament building did not look particularly intimidating from the outside. That was the problem.
It stood in the heart of Palatine's Capital, Altera, like a monument to restraint, all pale stone, glass, and clean architecture. It had no grand statues, no ostentatious carvings meant to remind visitors of their smallness. It pretended to be reasonable, humane, and approachable.
Chris knew better.
He had only been inside twice before. Once as a carefully managed guest. Once as a political accessory to Dax. Both times, he'd been escorted, watched over, smiled at, entertained, and then politely removed before anything resembling true governance could bleed into his experience.
This time, he walked here as someone expected to sit among them.
His chest felt too small for his lungs. Until now, most of his responsibilities had unfolded in smaller rooms: meetings with various departments, policy briefings, project reviews, and work he could approach pragmatically.
