Moments later,[Rina P.O.V]The administrative center smelled of parchment and the faint ozone of crystal matrices processing data.I stood before the central display where the Dominion’s economic metrics pulsed in lines of violet light, each figure representing a life improved, an exile welcomed, a dream realized in the place the Council had tried to bury. My guests gathered around me, their faces arranged in expressions that shifted from curiosity to calculation to something that looked almost like disbelief.“Fair wages,” I said, gesturing toward the first column where numbers climbed in steady increments, “for every citizen. Human, mage, bound spirit, exile. The work determines the pay. Not the birth. Not the blood. Not the connections.”Austin’s lavender eyes tracked the figures, his mind calculating the implications faster than I could voice them. “The neighboring kingdoms,” he said, and his voice carried the rough edge of someone who had spent his life measuring the strength
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