The first crisis of Sebastian Ravenscroft's presidency arrived before he officially became president.
Ironically, it wasn't a scandal. It wasn't a security threat. It wasn't even the Council of Twelve. It was paperwork. Thousands of pages of it. The transition office looked like a battlefield. Stacks of reports covered every available surface. Economic forecasts. Infrastructure assessments. National security briefings. Agency audits. Cabinet recommendations. Legislative proposals.
Some were useful. Most were not.
Sebastian sat behind a temporary desk and rubbed his eyes. It was barely seven in the morning. He had already been working for three hours.
Across the room, Elena glanced at him.
"You need coffee." "I need a second country." She laughed. "Unfortunately we only have one." "That's the problem."
A knock interrupted them.bAn aide entered carrying a thick black folder.
"Sir."
Sebastian looked up.
"What now?"
"The final draft."
