"I present to you... Maw's Deep!" shouted a soldier officer as he activated the device at the center of the chamber.
*Beep!
A glowing, three-dinsional map ca to life, projecting a vast section of the galaxy of Maw's Deep. Across the map, red dots appeared to mark dozens of key planets, each one tagged for strategic importance.
With a swift press of a button, assortnt of colors spread across the map—four distinct quadrants lighting up, each one representing territory or conflict zones.
The sheer scale was staggering—over two billion planets spanned the projection, each small and miniscule dot represented each planet—each one a speck in a swirling web of control, power, and conflict.
"As reported," the officer continued, his tone steady, "we have almost fully explored and conquered the Virellian Verge."
As he spoke, a soft pulse lit up the lower-left quadrant in a cool light blue, highlighting the territory as it blinked multiple tis in confirmation.
*Beep!
With another press of a button, two additional quadrants lit up—one above and one to the right of the Virellian Verge.
The map pulsed softly as the sectors blinked into view, labeled in bold script,
Zepharian Fold and Umbra Hollows.
"We have two potential fronts," the officer announced.
"The Zepharian Fold to the north, or the Umbra Hollows to the east. The choice is yours, warlords. What shall be our next move?"
A mont of silence passed before an old man stepped forward, his presence commanding. Clearly one of the warlords, his voice was rough and weathered—seasoned by years of battle.
"I say we push into the Umbra Hollows without delay," he declared, his eyes locked on the glowing section of the map.
"It's an uncharted zone—unknown to both us and the Holy Seraphim Empire. That gives us the advantage... if we move first."
Another warlord replied, his voice hissed as his synthetic body leaned forward.
"That sector must be brimming with Eidra pure beasts—we need to gather more slaves and train soldiers before we venture into it."
"No, we must go now!" the older man from earlier exclaid, urgency in his voice. "Ti is of the essence!" his brow furrowed in dissatisfaction.
Venedix, who had been silently observing the heated discussion, leaned forward slightly—her piercing eyes locking onto the warlords gathered around the table.
Venedix's voice then sliced through the tension—recomnding, a different route.
"We must go up top—the Zepharian fold," she said, her tone steady—yet carrying the weight of undeniable authority.
The older man, who had been at the center of the heated conversation—scoffed and quickly dismissed her suggestion.
"You don't get to speak here, battlemaster."
Before Venedix could respond, the synthetic warlord, with its chanical voice, intervened—seemingly defending her.
"Fool. Venedix is not just any battlemaster. She is a master tactician and warrior, having spearheaded the majority of our wars," the synthetic warlord said, its tallic form shifting as it turned toward Venedix.
"Oh, I'm well aware of this woman's so-called accomplishnts," the old warlord replied with a smirk.
"Last I heard, she spared thousands of Rinari civilians and walked away with only seven slave children. Hah!"
"And last I heard," Venedix shot back, crossing her arms, "your army suffered a humiliating defeat against the Raksharri."
Vendedix pressed on, her eyes narrowing in defiance. "So tell , oh-so-great warlord—who are you to question my motives, when I, a re battlemaster, have claid far more victories than you?"
The synthetic warlord intervened, seemingly trying to deescalate the situation, "We should at least listen to her reasoning as to why we should go to the Zepharian fold."
*Tch!
The older man clenched his fists, clearly frustrated by the interruption, but reluctantly, he remained silent, awaiting Venedix's explanation.
An older woman beside Venedix shifted her gaze towards her without uttering a word, yet her face was filled with anticipation towards a well known tactician like Venedix.
"As you all know," Venedix began, her gaze razor-sharp, "the Zepharion Fold is being contested by both the chronax and the Varn Collective."
She paused, letting the tension settle as the warlords sat in expectant silence.
"I propose we ally with the chronax—then crush the Varn entirely."
A scoff cut through the room as the old man snapped, "And let the Seraphim get their hands on the artifact—especially while they march into the Umbra Hollows uncontested? Have you all lost your minds?"
With a surge of anger, he slamd his hand against the table. The resounding thud sent vibrations across the chamber, drawing startled glances.
"Get this fool out of here!" he bellowed, his voice echoing with raw anger.
*HAHAHA!
A laugh pierced the tense conversation. "Ahh... you truly are a funny man, Origron," said the female warlord seated beside Venedix, her tone laced with dry amusent.
Her expression quickly shifted.
She narrowed her eyes, voice turning sharp.
"Think about it. The chronax don't want the relic—they want the entire Zepharion Fold to anchor their nexus and siphon eidra without resistance."
The synthetic robot warlord stroked his chin thoughtfully, finding the topic interesting.
"The nexus... you're right," he continued, his voice low and chanical.
"The chronax doesn't care for the relic—they want the entire Zepharion fold to activate their nexus and collect eidra."
Venedix spoke, her tone calm yet resolute.
"Our relationship with the chronax isn't hostile. If anything—they'd view us as allies if we decided to lend our aid."
She shifted her focus to Origron, her gaze sharpening. "I will lead the charge—as I have in every battle before."
"I agree," the female warlord said, a smirk tugging at her lips as she locked eyes with Origron, her gaze steady.
*Tsk!
Origron clicked his tongue in disdain, his features hardening as he fell silent.
A brief pause lingered before the synthetic warlord spoke.
"Perfect. House Nexx will accompany House Sorellia on this." He shifted his gaze to the datapad attached to his arm and clicked it.
"Our house would be the one to send the envoys to the chronax."
"Perfect—eting adjourned!" the old woman declared, then leaned toward Venedix with a whispered question.
"So, how goes your apprentice, child?"
Venedix didn't turn her head as she rose from her seat.
"Mhm. He'll be trained by Zendrell for now. After the second trial, I'll show him what true swordsmanship is."
The old woman chuckled.
"Zendrell, that brute?"
She stood as well, placing a gentle hand on Venedix's shoulder. "Well anyways—I look forward to eting your apprentice."
With that, the old woman walked away, and one by one, the other warlords exited out of the room.
Their conversations echoed as they departed, voices lowering as they drifted into the long hallway.
The eting had ended, but the weight of its decisions lingered in the air.
Venedix's gaze lingered on the retreating figure of the old woman, her expression unreadable.
"You will," she murmured under her breath, before striding toward the exit herself.
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