In the square before Zichen Hall, the guards had just finished their morning drills, sweat beading at their temples. Their bronze armor reflected a subdued sheen in the strengthening sunlight.
Xun Yu lifted the carriage curtain and entered the Secretariat's duty room, his moon-white everyday robe already touched with morning dew. He was always the first to arrive. The clerk on night duty bowed and handed him the reports that had accumulated overnight. The ink on the topmost report was still fresh: a brief from the Ministry of Revenue on the completion of spring tax collection-thanks to the newly introduced farming tools and irrigation works, annual revenue was actually twenty percent higher than expected. His fingertips brushed the paper. The vitality within Calyrex's power allowed him to sense clearly the vigorous pulse of this land revealed between the lines.
"It seems you're in quite a good mood today, Wenruo."
Guo Jia's voice came from the doorway, carrying a hint of languid teasing. He had no feather fan today, only a small purple-clay teapot in hand, looking like an idle scholar returning from a spring outing. Only the ceaseless glow of Uxie's Power flowing in his eyes betrayed the vast, complex calculations their owner performed at every moment.
"You look quite at ease yourself, Brother Fengxiao." Xun Yu smiled faintly and pushed the brief toward him. "Spring grain in the granaries and peace among the people are the foundations of a nation. Naturally, I am pleased."
Guo Jia took it, scanned the figures, and curled his lips. "Only with firm foundations can we risk bold moves and devise unexpected plays. Things have been quite lively over in Bara Wood lately." He poured himself a cup of tea and lowered his voice. "It seems someone has taken those rumors we spread about