Strax adjusted his cloak over his shoulders, fastening the silver dragon-shaped clasp that Monica had insisted on having polished. The light streaming through the tall office windows reflected off the metal, dancing across the walls covered in maps and reports.
Monica sat at the table, surrounded by stacks of documents and magical quills that wrote on their own, keeping pace with the steady rhythm of her pen. She didn't even look up when he spoke:
"I'm leaving today. Cristhalis is waiting for me."
"Oh, of course," she replied, still reviewing a report. "Going to visit some woman made of ice and arrogance… a sensible decision for you to go after a woman, as always."
Strax smiled wryly. "You say that as if I have a choice. Come on, I was summoned, have you forgotten?"
