Tari laid quietly in the grass, watching the wispy clouds drifting through the sky. A rice-paper scroll lay before her, fine calligraphy glistening with fresh ink in the morning’s light. Twelve of the Conclave’s stamps adorned it. Only Toshiyuki’s was absent, having abstained from the final decision.
“You must have pulled some strings to not let them back-burner me for months. I’m a little surprised it’s already here in front of me.”