The Star Sector and the Terran Empire's Great Crusade fleet detachment had already clashed and fallen out, and the Terran Empire had acted rather dishonorably in certain matters, even resorting to some filthy, underhanded tricks behind the scenes.
So, although the mining base had agreed in principle to the other side's request for negotiations, the Star Sector had no intention of indulging their delegation and ambassador. Nor did it intend to be courteous. It even dispensed with the usual reception arrangements, not only skipping any welcoming banquet but also seating both sides' senior negotiators together that very evening for the first round of talks.
And so, in a small, windowless chamber in the Command Center, furnished with nothing but a dark red long table and two chairs, secret negotiations began in an atmosphere so tense it seemed frozen solid.
"..."
At that moment, Darius, the base's supreme commander, sat at one end of the dark red negotiating table.
He did not speak first. His gaze was as sharp and composed as a falcon's in winter, while his fingers lightly tapped the tabletop. Each quiet tap sounded like a carefully measured beat, steady and powerful, again and again, without the slightest sign of impatience.
"..."
Of course, Sejanus sat opposite him.
Unlike Darius, his face was as dark as a stormy sky, but that did not stop him from staring intently at Darius across the table.
His expression was calm and resolute. As a highly respected figure among the Shadowmoon Wolves, a great warrior and an exceptional diplomat who had long overseen the Legion's diplomatic affairs, he was accustomed to reading his negotiating opponents' true thoughts and spotting signs of weakness in their slightest expressions and movements.
So he was in no hurry, either. He simply maintained the faintest, barely perceptible