The Grand Hall was filled to capacity, a blur of silk robes, stiff military collars, and the heavy, expectant silence of the most powerful people in the kingdom.
This was the official presentation. The "Northern-Southern Integrated Stabilization Model." It was a title designed by committee to sound progressive, a way to dress up a political takeover in the language of medical advancement.
At the center of the hall, Cassian sat in a chair of dark iron. He looked every bit the future King—spine straight, chin level, eyes fixed on the far wall. Behind him stood Gru. The Northern specialist looked confident, his hands hovering near the resonance crystals set into the arms of the chair.
Elias was positioned to the side. He was not at the table. He was not behind the Prince. He was an observer, a relic of the old system kept on hand to witness the birth of the new one. He kept his hands tucked into his sleeves, his face neutral.
"Begin," the King's Senior Advisor commanded.
