The mood in the King's solar room was so heavy it could crush even the most optimistic person. There were these big arched windows that looked out over the huge, brightly lit labyrinth of Arboris, but inside, the room was basically a whole other world. Brass gears could be seen along the dark wood-panelled walls, turning at regular, ticking intervals, creating a mechanical pulse that competed with the distant hum of the Mother Tree's roots beneath the marble floor.
Soren was sitting behind his desk. He wore a lavender silk gown made from the finest looms in the south, the fabric flowing like a pale purple mist. The square neckline was framed by delicate cream-coloured lace and adorned with silver thread filigree, and the soft, flowing sleeves and lace cuffs ensured that those whom he met saw only beauty. He had his fingers on the armrest, his silver eyes looking at the letter he'd got today.
