The morning sun reached the top floor of the Palace of Justice, where the penthouse of the Supreme Governor of Cremgaradél was located.Armida sat before her vanity; the reflection in the mirror returned an image she analyzed with cruel precision. With her fingertips, she traced every mark of time as if she could erase it by thought alone. Her green, cutting eyes seemed ready to burn away any imperfection that dared to appear.

She grabbed the wine glass and emptied it in a single gulp, then began rummaging through the drawers. She flinched when her hand brushed against a sheet of paper — a photograph, forgotten for years beneath layers of documents and silence.She already knew what it was. That memory was the only one she had never managed to bury.She closed her eyes, brushing the rough paper with a hesitant gesture. For an instant, she seemed to want to hold it to her chest, then her expression cracked — anger and longing intertwining on her face.

If only the illness hadn’t taken him away.She had never cried. She wasn’t allowed to. She had poured her grief into a mute fury against the gods, against fate, against men... A gust of wind had taken from her every plan, every promise.Armida clenched the photograph in her fist and slammed the drawer shut. No one knew that story. No one ever would.

She recomposed her face, put on her earrings, and looked in the mirror again. Perfect. Untouchable.

In the council hall, the High Priest was already waiting, drumming his fingers nervously on the cherrywood table.The door burst open, and the sharp rhythm of heels announced Armida’s arrival.

«Leave us.»The two maids hurried out. The governor walked to the head of the table and sat down with the calm of someone who knows she rules over everything.«My dear husband,» she said with a faint smile, «so early and already alarmed?»

Arnaud unrolled a map of Thanatos before her.«Three raids in three different points of the wall in less than a month... We can’t wait any longer, Armida.» Sweat gleamed on his forehead. «The soldiers aren’t enough, our defenses...»

She laughed. A clear, almost musical laugh — but loaded with contempt.

«Do the city’s misfortunes amuse you?» muttered Arnaud, offended.

She stood up, crumpled the map, and let it fall to the floor.«You worry too much. They’re just a bunch of miserable wretches with rusty weapons, rats before our walls.»She wiggled her fingers in the air, mimicking small running paws. «They’ll steal a bit of bread, a bit of cheese... nothing more.»

The door opened again: a maid handed her a full glass.«Finally,» murmured Armida, sitting and taking a long sip.

Exasperated, Arnaud threw a dossier onto the table.«That’s the latest report from Caesar Golìa, the officer you sent among the outcasts with that other fool, Koll.»

She leafed through it absently, a smile of sarcasm tugging at her lips.«My Caesar was very detailed. And lucky, I’d say. A pity about the other one.» A feigned sigh. «I wonder if he’s still alive after meeting that... what do they call him? The king of the gypsies?»

«Franek Petrov,» interrupted Arnaud, irritated. «And he’s the King of the Thieves’ Guild, not the gypsies.»

Armida barely shrugged. «Thieves, gypsies, outcasts... names change, misery doesn’t. If they want to crown themselves kings of some pile of dust, let them.»

«We don’t know their true strength, nor where they hide!» he insisted. «They know how to reach us, and we don’t. When Pete’s cover was blown, Golìa barely escaped alive. That file is all we have left!»

Armida sighed, bored. «Oh, stop whining, Arnaud.» She calmly closed the documents and handed them back to him. «Let him rest, clean him up, and then keep him under surveillance for forty-eight hours.»

«Under surveillance? He’s our head of security!»

She stared at him, tilting her head slightly. «And I am a goddess.» She smiled. «And deities never trust chance, my love.»

The priest lowered his gaze, crushed beneath the weight of her presence.

«See to your prayers, Arnaud. I’ll take care of the rest.» Her voice turned sharp. «This afternoon, the Restricted Council will convene. I want the new offering funds allocated to construction... And, just to be safe, replace all the guards: only citizens of Cremgaradél. No outcasts.»

Arnaud hesitated. «But the city guards hold higher ranks; they’ll protest...»

«Let them protest!» she laughed, a dangerous spark in her eyes. «Drown them in money or some foolish badge. We need loyal eyes if we truly want to understand how our enemy moves.» She rose with feline grace. «Your lack of perception truly exhausts me. It’s time I make my next move.»

«Where are you going? If it concerns the city, I have the right to know.»

«Of course it concerns the city. Don’t we live for her, after all?» Her smile spread, wrapped in a lilac-scented cloud. «It’s enough for you to know that I have a plan to flush out those bastards conspiring against us.» She turned toward the door, where the maids awaited her with her coat and bag. «Now, I imagine you have a mass to arrange or something of the sort.» Her final words were a whisper of silk: «Goodbye, dear.»

And she disappeared beyond the threshold, leaving Arnaud alone, wrapped in the awareness that, if there was one woman to fear in all of Cremgaradél, it was Armida Sunnèi.