In the quiet marble antechamber adjoining the grand reception hall, Hajin paused to organize their logistical supplies before the royal fanfare sounded.
The thick drapes muffled the boisterous laughter of arriving aristocrats, providing a rare moment of privacy beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Beside him, Vella was inspecting her medical satchel, her brow furrowed with clinical concern as she checked the depleted glass vials.
"Our emergency reserves were pushed to the brink during the northern breach and the subsequent skirmishes," she reported softly, showing him the nearly empty leather pockets.
"We have plenty of gold drafts from the appraisal master, but coin cannot stitch an open wound if a sudden ambush breaks out within these palace corridors," the priestess explained in her calm, steady tone.
"We will restock our medical and emergency provisions right now," he replied, focusing his intent inward toward the celestial stream interface.
