The massive arched portals of the administrative citadel glided open with silent mechanical precision, admitting the foreign expedition into the circular deliberation rotunda.
Seven tiered semicircular benches rose in ascending ranks around a sunken central platform of dark, polished serpentine stone.
Suspended high beneath the vaulted dome, a glowing web of azure conduits pulsed in perfect harmony with the descending pale cords that touched each magistrate.
The subterranean air inside the chamber was chilled and sterile, smelling faintly of pressurized hydraulics, conductive ink, and dried parchment.
Seven senior councilors occupied the elevated seats, their formal mantles denoting their respective civic portfolios within the municipal hierarchy.
At the center sat Ilyra, the oldest living councilor, flanked by the senior ministers of records, transit, grain reserves, public shelter, patrol watch, and the refusal engine.
