Arion stepped out of the dining wing's corridor as if he had just stood up from lunch to answer a phone call, not as if he was about to fight.
One of his security detail was already approaching at a fast walk, tablet in hand, earpiece live, and a hard case tucked under his arm like it weighed nothing. The case was matte black with reinforced corners, with an orange blinking LED.
"Your Highness," the guard said, falling into step beside him without needing permission. "Route confirmed. Two hours from Roslew. High pheromone concentration area, border corridor between sectors…"
"I read it," Arion replied, not unkindly, just already moving faster. His hand closed around the case handle, and the latch clicked once under his thumb, recognizing his pheromonal signature.
Alamina did not have borders the way other empires did.
