The morning sun filtered through the reinforced glass of the chemistry corridor meeting room as three faction representatives sat across the briefing table.
"Look at the way they arranged themselves around the table," the dark-haired striker whispered, leaning against the doorframe with her cutter loosely balanced in her palm.
"Every one of them wants a piece of our anchor barrier, but none of them brought weapons to help defend the outer wall."
"We noticed their envoys watching our gate since seven in the morning," the shield guardian added, standing like an immovable wall of armor beside the primary exit.
"They waited until our vanguard cleared the courtyard before requesting formal diplomatic talks."
"That is standard behavior for opportunistic faction politicians," Vasa remarked, organizing the territorial maps across the center console.
"They want the security of our First Citadel without paying the blood price required to build it."
