As the three of them stood there, lost in contemplation, a dark army soldier approached. He was older than most of the others, his hair a distinguished silver gray, neatly combed and pulled back into a tight bun. He carried himself with an air of quiet efficiency, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy that still crackled around the battlefield outside.
He stopped before Michael, snapping a crisp salute.
"My lord," he said, his voice clear and respectful. "We have finished cataloging the loot from this... Azure Citadel, as those Skyhall folks called it." He unrolled a parchment, revealing a meticulously detailed list of items, numbers, and valuations.
