By the time Gabriel finally stepped out of his office, the sky beyond the palace windows had deepened to indigo, the city's ether grid glowing in precise, geometric veins across the horizon. His head ached faintly. The particular, throbbing kind of fatigue that only came from a day of enduring noble stupidity dressed up as diplomacy.
He hadn't missed this during his leave. Not the petty posturing, not the endless attempts to disguise self-interest as concern for the Empire, and certainly not the sensation that his patience was being mined for export.
The corridors toward the Emperor's private wing were quieter at this hour, the muted echo of his footsteps following him past the tall windows and heavy doors. He pushed one open without ceremony, the familiar, warm scent of their rooms settling around him like a cloak.
