Dawn broke over Elyaran not with golden light, but with a cold, ash-gray brightness filtering through columns of smoke.
In the Great Reception Hall of the Inner Citadel, enormous tapestries of red silk lay torn across the polished marble floor. The Regional Governor's heavy iron-reinforced throne had been cleared of debris, and Azhred sat upon it. His silver-embroidered cloak had fallen across his shoulders, his curved sword resting across his knees. Around him, members of the high council, clan elders, and surrendered garrison captains bowed their heads in silent submission.
"By right of conquest and blood," proclaimed Clan Elder Dargun, his voice echoing beneath the vaulted stone ceiling, "we salute Azhred of the Drazhan clan as Veyran of Elyaran!"
A thunderous cheer rose from the northern varduns, their fists raised into the air. Azhred smiled—a bright, victorious expression radiating pure, unquestionable authority. His silver aura shimmered faintly, filling the hall with a warm, captivating majesty.
Yet far from the throne, hidden within a dark recess behind a shattered marble pillar, Tair sat upon an overturned wooden crate.
His dead-weight right arm hung inside his salt-covered wool tunic. A black leather band covered his blind right eye, while his left eye, veined with the red vessels of neural strain, remained fixed upon the stack of leather-bound tax ledgers in his lap.
Core OS: ASTRA
NEURAL COST: 32%
SYSTEM NETWORK: Local city node connected