The room was alive with dissonance.
Murmurs slithered across the chamber like restless snakes—sharp, cutting whispers that betrayed disgust, anger, and confusion alike.
The gathered cloaked figures shifted in their seats, some crossing their arms tightly across their chests, others leaning forward with fists clenched as if preparing to rise and protest further.
Their gazes swept over Rox with hostility, some glaring outright, others darting quick glances and muttering curses beneath their breath.
To them, she wasn't a guest.
She wasn't even an ally.
She was contamination—
a reminder of blood spilled and wounds never healed.
A Corvi, a creature born of empire, raised in conquest, and shaped into a weapon.
Rox could hear their voices even through the layers of her helmet's filters.
"…a captive just hours ago… and now sitting beside her? Bold, shameless…"
"…doesn't even bow her head—look at her, mocking us with her posture…"
"…she'll slit our throats in our sleep, wait and see…"
Rox leaned back in her chair with a smirk tugging at her lips, her boot resting lazily against one leg of the table.
"Well, so much for a first impression," she muttered beneath her breath, not caring who heard her.
A single sound cut through the air.
*Ahem.
Gelhyne cleared her throat—not loud, not forceful, yet it snapped the attention of the room instantly.
The cloaked figures stilled, their mutters fading into silence as their eyes snapped toward their master.
With deliberate calm, Gelhyne raised her arm and tapped a button on the datapad strapped to her wrist.
*Whirrrr!!!
A hum filled the chamber as the central projector flared to life.
*beep! *beep! *beep!
Within moments, lines of data, old records, and classified archives lit up the air above the table.
Rox's heart gave a subtle lurch as she recognized what she was seeing—her life, peeled open like a dissected corpse for all to examine.
Birth records.
The names of her parents, crossed out with red lines signifying "deceased."
The grim note of their deaths, casualties of a border conflict.
Her years in a war orphanage.
Training reports.
Her first deployment as a nameless soldier in the endless armies of the Corvi empire.
Battle logs where she was listed as a pilot trainee.
And finally,
her promotions—her ascension into the elite, the moment she became one of the empire's infamous Ace pilots.
Her legacy, or perhaps her curse, laid bare for the room.
Rox's eyes widened behind her visor despite herself, her jaw tightening.
"How the hell…" she muttered, low enough only she could hear.
Gelhyne's voice cut across the silence, smooth yet commanding, carrying with it the weight of authority none in the room dared ignore.
"Rox Aggro," she announced, her emerald eyes locking on Rox as if she were pronouncing judgment.
"One of the Ace pilots of the Corvi empire. A deserter, by her own admission. From this day forward, she will serve me and our expedition."
Her words struck the room like a thunderclap.
Gasps and mutters erupted again, but Gelhyne was not finished.
She raised her left hand high, the sleeve of her cloak falling back to reveal the faintly glowing mark burned into her flesh—
the brand of the oathmaker.
The violet glow pulsed, faint but undeniable, a sigil of binding.
"She is bound to me,"
Gelhyne continued, her tone steel.
"Ten years she will serve—no more, no less. A short span for one of her kind, but long enough for us to extract results."
Her emerald gaze shifted back toward Rox, her eyes narrowing slightly, her voice sharpening into a blade.
"If she betrays us… if she dares to escape… the full might of my fleet will hunt her down like a dog."
The threat hung heavy in the air.
Rox tilted her head slowly, her smirk curling back into place.
"Ooh, scary," she said in a mock-whisper, deliberately loud enough for Gelhyne alone to hear.
*sigh
Gelhyne's sigh was audible, not exasperated but measured, the sound of a woman who knew how to wield patience as a weapon.
"Sarcasm will not save you, Rox Aggro," she said, almost as if dismissing her entirely.
Then, turning her gaze back to the crowd, she continued with crisp authority.
"If her performance proves outstanding—if she aids our cause beyond expectation—then perhaps I will take her name to the high admiral himself. Perhaps, in time, she may earn protection and freedom under the banner of the Red Fleet."
*clutter!
The chamber exploded.
Murmurs turned into shouts.
Cloaked figures rose halfway from their seats,
*bang!
hands slamming against the table or pointing in fury.
"We cannot allow such filth into our ranks, Master Laxuva! Have you forgotten the Rinari massacres? Our people slaughtered under the Corvi's rage!"
Another voice cut in, louder, trembling with rage.
"The Corvi are beasts, blood-drenched monsters who know nothing but conquest! They belong to no society but their own empire of death. To trust one is to invite betrayal!"
And then another, harsher still, the words a roar.
"WE CANNOT LET THIS SCUM AMONG US!"
The council fractured, voices layering on top of one another in chaotic fury.
Fingers pointed, fists slammed, chairs creaked as men and women leaned forward in indignation.
Through it all, Rox sat back in her chair, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.
She tilted her head in amusement, muttering under her breath, "Touchy bunch, aren't they?"
Beside her, the massive Vakaryan Warmaster Gunn shifted in his seat.
The chair groaned beneath his towering frame as he leaned forward, mandibles clicking in annoyance.
He let out a scoff, his deep, resonant voice cutting through the noise.
"What a bunch of fools," Gunn rumbled, his words dripping disdain.
"Even a warmaster like myself knows the difference between a useless asset and a valuable one. This one may be Corvi birdmeat, but she is an Ace. That is not to be ignored."
*Click!
The mandibles clicked again, sharper this time, like steel snapping together.
His eyes scanned the room, challenging anyone to speak against him.
Few dared.
But the voices continued, rising into a crescendo of chaos.
Until Gelhyne moved.
Her hand rose, then came crashing down against the table.
*THUD!
The sound reverberated through the chamber, a thunderous crack that silenced every throat instantly.
The glow of the holo-projector flickered faintly from the impact, and the silence that followed was absolute.
Gelhyne's eyes narrowed, her voice slicing into the quiet like a sharpened blade.
"Do not," she hissed, "dare question my decisions. None of you hold more wisdom than I. None of you command more authority than I. If I say she joins us, then she will join us. No questions asked. No objections raised."
Her voice grew darker, colder, dripping venom as her hand curled into a fist.
"Any who seek to harm her, any who seek to impede her role, will be impeding this expedition. And those who impede my expedition…"
She raised her fist higher, her voice dropping to a growl.
"…will be weeded out without hesitation."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
No one moved.
No one dared.
Every eye avoided hers, every protest stilled in the throat.
The tension lingered, heavy, oppressive, until Gelhyne broke it herself, lowering her hand back to the table with deliberate calm.
"Now," she said, her tone shifting back to business as if nothing had transpired,
"Let us speak of our true objective. The Rune of Veristalzes."
The projection above the table shifted, the planet vanishing into lines of ancient runic script, faintly glowing with eidra.
The murmurs resumed, but quieter now, restrained, each voice hushed beneath the iron weight of Gelhyne's authority.
Rox leaned back, her smirk fading just enough to leave her expression unreadable beneath the visor of her helmet.
She muttered softly, low enough for none to hear but herself.
"…The Rune of Veristalzes, huh? What the hell did I walk into this time?"