The next morning, Liam discovered that competence could be extremely attractive.
He stood in the central planning room with a tablet in one hand, staring at the imperial schedule Severin, Mezos, Rubis, and Kamal had somehow dismantled, reorganized, and compressed into something that no longer resembled an assassination attempt disguised as administration.
Three diplomatic meetings had been delegated.
Two council sessions had been moved forward.
The trade review with the southern districts had been handed to Cassian and Narissa, who were both qualified enough that Liam suspected the meeting might actually end early for once.
Even the foreign delegations currently attempting to resurrect century-old agreements had been divided between ministers instead of waiting personally for Arik to explain for the fifth time that Nuria being inaccessible did not somehow entitle them to mineral concessions negotiated by their great-grandparents.
Liam scrolled down.
Then back up.
