Cold raindrops battered the stained-glass windows of the Golden Sail Commerce Association's headquarters, like countless vultures feasting on a dying body.
The once orderly bustle within the association had vanished, replaced by a panic bordering on chaos.
Couriers in oilskin raincoats rushed in from outside, tossing letters hastily sealed with wax onto the reception desk before disappearing back into the downpour without a second glance. Their faces were expressionless, numb.
Caroline sat in her spacious office.
Her desk, carved from a single piece of Black Ebony Wood, had once been adorned with exquisite model ships and a silver inkwell representing her family's honor.
Now, these items were buried under mountains of reports and ledgers.
Caroline's fingertips gently traced over an intelligence summary that clearly outlined the full scope of the storm.
