Morwenna turned her attention back to the documents, her eyes scanning the columns of figures and casualty reports with a mechanical intensity that bordered on madness.
The lamplight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the ink, making the numbers seem to writhe like insects on the page.
"I have been doing the arithmetic for the last two hours," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, brittle whisper. "I have run every variable."
"I have accounted for the loss of revenue from the merchant guilds, the frozen assets from the Council's investigation, and the projected costs of the immediate military mobilization you're demanding."
She paused, her pen hovering over a ledger like a dagger over a throat. "The arithmetic does not produce a version of the next twelve months that is acceptable, Rex."
"There is no path forward where the Nightwing household remains a significant institution in this city."
"We are not just bleeding; we are hemorrhaging."
