"This is impossible—!"
The Tania Flagship.
This magnificent vessel, just one level below the Iberian Glory in specifications, was like a grand palace in space, docked in low-earth orbit.
Surrounded by a vast fleet, it reigned over Cyrenaica like an emperor.
A man dressed in the classical white robes of Iberia listened to his subordinate's report. The elegant, all-knowing smile on his face gradually turned to surprise, and finally, to utter fury.
He shoved his subordinate aside. With dozens of confidants in his wake, he strode away from the command platform toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window at the front of the bridge.
Beneath his feet was a mirror-like obsidian floor. Magnificent white Roman columns stood behind him, and a long, crimson carpet, like a grand avenue welcoming a triumphant victor, stretched from the command platform to the window.
