The tactical room in the Aldenar estate was cool, shadowed by thick stone walls that seemed to absorb the rising heat of the Capital morning. On the center table, a massive parchment map of the Capital was weighed down by heavy silver daggers.
Zachren stood by the narrow window, his massive frame blocking out a significant portion of the sunlight. He was dubbed as the "Muscles", a man whose presence alone could quiet a room, yet today his brow was furrowed in a rare display of restlessness. Across from him, Rion, the "Brain" of the unit, was meticulously reviewing a stack of intercepted reports. Rion lacked Zachren's sheer physical bulk, but his eyes were sharp, constantly moving, as if he were reading a language only he understood.
"Still nothing from the Ministry of Security?" Rion asked, his voice smooth and clinical.
