The boardroom atop Lachn Tower hummed with a tension that clung to the sleek mahogany and tempered gss, lingering like an echo in the silence. Vast windows captured the sprawl of the city below, holding it suspended in mid-breath. The press release had disseminated hours earlier—sharp, unequivocal, branded indelibly with the Lachn seal—and each director around the table had dissected it, line by line.

  Camille Morvant's poised figure, aligned beside him, lingered in their collective gaze.

  At the table's distant end, Elden Vance tugged at his cufflinks with deliberate precision, a motion ced with unspoken intent.

  "With due respect, Mr. Lachn," he ventured, his tone ced with measured caution, "elevating Camille Morvant to Special Liaison—some might interpret it as a steadying force. Others could view it as... overly permissive."

  A subtle ripple of agreement stirred the air, faint yet revealing.

  Reinhardt Ames leaned forward, his fingers interced in a steeple, a whisper of a smile tracing his lips.

  "Permissive won't be the narrative on the Street. They'll perceive it as seamless transition. Strayforth's holdouts crave a recognizable anchor—someone who assures them this shift wasn't an outright erasure. Camille embodies that. Precisely."

  Opposite him, Ewan North's brow furrowed, etching deeper creases around his eyes.

  "Or they'll brand her as tainted. A Morvant aligned beneath the Lachn emblem? That's an incitement. It might galvanize whatever remnants Xavier left behind."

  The chamber fell into a profound hush.

  Xavier's invocation still commanded gravity, even in his void—a persistent shade that defied dissipation. Expnations proved unnecessary; the weight sufficed.

  Dominique Serrano shattered the quiet, her voice incisive and detached.

  "And that's exactly why the strategy succeeds. It provokes any lingering adherents to surface—and exposes them in the act."

  Marian Rusk offered a single, deliberate nod. "It serves as a stark signal too. Authority doesn't merely transfer. It redefines emblems."

  At the table's helm, Ilene Cormack observed in silence, her gaze drifting from one expression to the next, gauging calcutions of peril and subtle realignments of allegiance.

  Celeste's eyes finally traversed the assembly, her composure unyielding and complete. "Camille's role transcends permissiveness," she stated with even poise. "It imparts a lesson. To Strayforth, to the markets, to those still wavering. Lachn doesn't simply cim. Lachn integrates."

  He held his silence for an extended moment. Then he reclined, his hands csping with leisurely assurance.

  "Camille Morvant represents no vulnerability," he decred. "She exemplifies the paradigm. Xavier—and any who echo his mindset—ceases to matter."

  That concluded the discourse.

  Dispys flickered to bck as distant participants disconnected. Chairs shifted with muted scrapes. Documents were collected. Inquiries halted—not from resolution, but from the crity already bestowed.

  All the while, Camille remained at his fnk, serene, fwless, impervious to the undercurrents swirling about her. No invitation to contribute arose. None proved essential.

  Her quietude wielded greater command than any ballot.

  Her mere attendance had conveyed the essence.