December 19, 2020
Culoria, Oscrelia
5:30 PM
There is a glow that blankets the skies after a storm ends and clouds subside, as a faint rainbow shimmers in the air, as the musky smell of a rainstorm floats through the air.
Such a glow was about in the Oscrelian capital in the afternoon. A storm had come and gone, and now the sun hung low in the summer sky, casting its light through one of many holes that had opened up in the cloud cover.
Boots splashed on rain-soaked concrete as a woman in a raincoat walked through the grounds of the Chancellor’s Residence. It could perhaps almost be called a courtyard, and yet the place was not nearly as ornate as some of the more lavish grounds surrounding ornate palaces elsewhere on Urth. The Residence might be fancy, but it was comparatively modest in comparison to other countries.
The woman walked up to the door and knocked on the door. A moment passed in silence that was only interrupted by the occasional sound of rain forming up on the building’s roof and falling to the ground with a small drip.
Finally, the door was opened by a middle-aged man.
“Ah, Mrs. Chester.”
“Mr. Harvey.”
“Please, come in,” said the outgoing Oscrelian Chancellor. “I think we both know that there’s a lot we need to discuss.”