OROSIA — THE JADE THRONE ROOM
Reginald Viremont had promised her three things: survival, relevance, and an audience with the most powerful man on the continent.
Two out of three had been delivered. The survival was confirmed by the fact that she was breathing. The audience was confirmed by the fact that she was standing in a throne room the size of a cathedral, flanked by two Orosian guards whose posture suggested they had been trained by people who hated slouching and loved consequences. The relevance was pending.
Guinevere Ashford assessed the room the way she assessed every room: by determining who mattered, who thought they mattered, and who was going to be a problem. The assessment took four seconds. The room was Fae. Everything was green and gold and carved from materials that looked like they had been grown rather than built. The ceiling was so high it had weather.
