Roland Reid's office was different from the others. Or rather, he differed precisely in order. So frightening. Perfectly fitted racks, between which even a speck could not fall, papers on the desktop are folded one to one ... the folders behind the glass stand perfectly even and sorted by color. Veneera shrugged her shoulders involuntarily and turned her gaze to the Steward of the Western Lands.

- What do you say? - he asked.

What could she say? On this conversation, he pulled her right out of the next congress of the dark ones. The dress embroidered with stones to the very throat made it difficult to breathe normally and...