Northern stepped into the war room and the smell hit him first — polished metal, treated leather, and something else. Something that spoke of wealth so concentrated it had its own scent.
The room stretched impossibly upward, walls of dark metal that looked less built than grown, organic curves rising from foundations no craftsman's hands had shaped. The ceiling disappeared into heights that made the chandeliers — massive things glimmering with intricate patterns of blue light like captured constellations — seem to hang only halfway to the top.
'Those are aetherium…' Northern noted.
Aetherium. Extremely rare materials, according to what Eleina had said. But here they were using it as mere ornaments.
'It is rare because they want it to be rare.'
