High above one of the many red spiral towers, Admiral Chase settled down into a slightly-oversized chair. As all the furniture was Drogar-sized, she felt like she was an overgrown child sitting in one.
Opposite her, across a dull metal desk sat Stormfather Retholis.
Both wore their everyday uniforms rather than their dress uniforms. They were clean, simple, and only bore the markings of their ranks along with the symbols of their nations.
The room around them was cozy and sparsely decorated. Behind Retholis was simply a transparent metal window that showed off the city. To their sides were shelved walls filled with books, medals, commendations, and various wartime memorabilia.
“I was under the impression that someone like me wasn’t allowed inside of a Red Zone,” said Admiral Chase.
“I
