The automated Lunar Council notification reached Luna Isadora Voss at exactly 2:17 p.m.
She was ensconced in the eastern drawing room, presiding over an executive assembly with two allied pack emissaries who had arrived to execute the classification of courtesy calls that were, in reality, calculated threat assessments. She audited the digital alert once, flipped the tablet face-down on the mahogany surface beside her porcelain teacup, and returned her absolute focus to the conversation without a micro-pause in her delivery.
The emissaries logged the gesture. She recognized the precise internal recalibration of their posture. She did not mind what catastrophic conclusions their intelligence networks extracted from the event.
Ironveil had officially filed a direct familial standing claim
