Earlier that evening, before his ministers had indulged in their reckless festivities, King Alexander stood in the grand hall of Primena Station's assembly quarters. The air was thick with formality, an undeniable contrast to the lively bars and casinos just a few decks below. His entourage stood at attention, their faces reflecting both admiration and unease beneath his penetrating gaze.
Alexander, clad in a regal midnight-blue robe adorned with celestial insignias, folded his arms. His voice was steady, unwavering, and laced with the weight of experience.
"Listen well," he began, his golden eyes scanning the room. "We are here for a purpose—to refuel, replenish, and prepare for the journey ahead. Nothing more."
A few ministers exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the warning already forming in his tone.
