The Provincial Committee Office had always been a sanctuary for the elite—a place where the halls were whispered to be "paved with lions and shadowed by dragons." Over the years, many sons of high-ranking officials had passed through its heavy oak doors, some seeking to burnish their résumés and others simply passing through on a gilding tour before moving on to more lucrative posts in the private sector. But even for a place so accustomed to the scent of ancient money and modern power, the arrival of Ambrose Ward was unprecedented.
The sheer specification of his debut—escorted by the Lord Mayor’s right hand and welcomed with the kind of deference usually reserved for a Privice Councilor—was a singular event. It left the seasoned clerks and the old hands of the OIG wondering about the exa
