There was a brief knock, more habit than request, and then the door opened in full.
Dr. Marin stepped in, flanked by two assistants and a containment specialist, all of them moving with the quiet urgency of people who understood what it meant for the Emperor's private wing to be breached. Their shoes barely made a sound on the polished marble, their coats still half-fastened, gloves already on, expressions shuttered tight behind years of training and the bone-deep knowledge that this wasn't just another summons.
All of them paused two steps inside the study and, with synchronized precision, bowed and curtsied low in acknowledgment of their sovereign, not just to Damian, pale, sitting in the armchair with blood on his lips, but to Gabriel, standing beside him like judgment incarnate.
Only once protocol was satisfied did they move.
