"Oh, Ragnar? You came finally.
Come and see these reports," Maria said, waving a paper in the air with a mixture of impatience and relief.
Her voice carried that familiar sharpness, but beneath it was a subtle tremor, one that only those who knew her well could catch.
She leaned back slightly, tapping the edge of her desk with one manicured finger as she waited for me to approach.
I looked at the paper she waved.
My eyes narrowed.
With a slow exhale, I rose from where I had been standing and walked across the room.
The floor creaked faintly beneath my boots, echoing slightly in the large chamber.
The air smelled faintly of parchment, dust, and faint traces of candle smoke, giving it that old-office scent that always reminded me of endless work.
As I reached Maria's side, I dropped into the chair beside her, the wooden legs scraping lightly against the floor.
