Altera's central airport was not the kind of place that indulged chaos.
It wasn't grand in the theatrical sense Rohan preferred, with no glittering arches or endless carpets to remind visitors how fortunate they were to step foot on them. Instead, it carried the quiet authority of a capital that had weathered crises and did not find spectacle useful. Everything ran with a level of precision that bordered on unnerving. Security moved like a single organism. Diplomatic corridors flowed smoothly, purpose guiding every motion. Even the air felt orderly, as if the city refused to tolerate disorder for more than a heartbeat.
Which made the arrival from Rohan feel even more painfully out of place.
Marianne Lancaster stepped off the jet bridge first.
