Keval stood by the basin, his expression tight as he reached for a small, yellow-white cube of soap resting on the edge. The rough texture scraped against his palm as he picked it up, feeling its sharp corners and the faint grain of its surface. His fingers curled around it, absently rubbing the cube between his hands for a moment before he submerged it in the urn of cool water beside him.
The soap lathered quickly, frothing in his hands as he passed it over his skin. Keval's movements were methodical, but his brow remained furrowed in thought.
This was something new.
The cool water ran down his wrists, the sensation barely registering as his mind churned with worries that refused to settle.
The empire's finances the soon to come recession—it all swirled in his head, as tangible and slippery as the soap in his hands and yet in his hands he was holding the solution for it .
