The morning light filtered through the penthouse windows as I found Rose in the study, surrounded by economic reports and continental trade analyses that she had somehow managed to acquire despite our supposed break from intensive guild operations. Her auburn hair caught the golden sunlight while her brown eyes moved across financial projections with the kind of focused intelligence that had made her invaluable during our economic transformation of the continent.
"Good morning," I said, settling into the chair beside her desk while appreciating the familiar sight of her analytical mind at work. "I thought we agreed on reduced working hours."
Rose looked up with a smile that carried both affection and mild exasperation. "Twenty hours per week for guild responsibilities," she replied, organizing her papers with characteristic efficiency. "This is personal curiosity about how other continents structure their economic systems. Completely different category."
