Weak Nations Have No Diplomacy

The convoy Orb had prepared consisted entirely of black Toyota Centurys.

The choice itself was a political statement, both underscoring Orb's identity as part of the East Asian cultural sphere and discreetly displaying its industrial strength.

Outside the windows, Heliopolis's artificial sky was simulating dusk. Warm orange light filtered through the dome's membrane and spilled across the orderly streets.

Inside the cars, there was no sound apart from the faint rhythm of tires passing over seams in the road.

Durandal's group had been assigned to the vehicles in the middle, with security cars escorting them in front and behind.

At last, the convoy stopped before a hotel named "Takamagahara."

This was the colony satellite's central district. Through the lobby's immense floor-to-ceiling windows, they could even see the navigation lights of a distant space station blinking in the void.

Orb's Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs led them all the way to a conference room on the top floor.

The long conference table had been polished from a single slab of obsidian. Its mirror-smooth surface reflected the starry ceiling formed from countless tiny optical fibers.

At the end of the table, a man rose to his feet.

He was tall and imposing, his graying hair combed with meticulous care. Even dressed only in a well-tailored dark gray suit, he exuded an aura of effortless authority.

He was Orb's Lion, Uzumi Nara Athha.

"Welcome, Senator Durandal. You have come a long way."

Uzumi stepped forward and extended his hand, sharing a brief but firm handshake with Durandal.

"It is an honor to meet Your Excellency."

Durandal replied with a smile.

"These are my cabinet colleagues, as well as representatives of Orb's five great clans—"

Uzumi then turned and introduced the people behind him.

He introduced them one by one. Some nodded in greeting,