From the eastern parapet, Olivia enjoyed watching the slow, glittering waves of Andrews Bay calmly moving towards the horizon to meet the sun, her short chestnut hair fluttering on the ocean breeze. *New day, new chances.* Looking at the expanse, she could spot red and blue buoys that marked the only safe routes of passage to the northern and southern shores; at least for now. Chilled, she popped the collar on her charcoal blazer, which only redirected the wind down to her chest, and the futility of her efforts seemed like a metaphor for the peace summit. Time was running out, the tides were turning, and a legacy of hatred just below the water’s surface could soon turn two nations into islands unto themselves. She checked her watch before going back inside the castle, back to the dining hall where breakfast was served, and the day’s first volleys of insults would be thrown.
Minister Hoon blocked the hallway with his small entourage—all men in bespoke suits—peering through a windowed door in disgust at the other party inside. She regarded them with neutral courtesy, as was custom for her role as the Guild’s mediator, but still could appreciate their svelte bodies and sense of style, the minister especially. *Another time, perhaps, another place.*