The Diplomat’s Gambit

The New Dawn Conference Hall gleamed like a diamond under the equatorial sun, its glass walls reflecting the IKN’s skyline—a forest of titanium spires clawing at clouds, interlaced with holographic banners that pulsed with slogans: “Sustainable Progress,” “Unity Through Innovation.” Inside, the air hummed with tension, thick enough to stifle breath.

Lia stood at the heart of the circular negotiation table, her cream-colored kebaya stark against the sea of charcoal suits. To her left, government officials tapped impatiently on tablets, their eyes darting to countdown timers projected above the table. To her right, indigenous leaders sat draped in handwoven ulos cloth, their weathered hands gripping carved wooden staffs. Rhea anchored their flank, arms crossed, her gaze sharp enough to etch glass.