The city of Silverhaven wasn't the capital, but it might as well have been. It was the Empire's beating heart of trade, a place where the rigid hierarchy of nobility met the chaotic, coin-driven energy of the Merchant's Guild. The air smelled of spices, forge-smoke, and the subtle ozone of active formation arrays protecting valuable shipments.
In the central keep, a meeting was dragging on.
Earl Althea Veridian, ruler of the Silverhaven Province, sat at the head of a polished oak table, her expression one of practiced patience. She was in her late thirties, with sharp green eyes and dark hair tied back in a severe but practical style. She wore a deep blue coat over a functional tunic and trousers, the only mark of her station a silver wolf's head pin on her collar.
Across from her, three lesser nobles droned on about tariffs, trade routes, and tithes.
"…and if we increase the levy on spirit herbs from the Sunhawk territories by just three percent, the annual revenue could—"
