The chamber was still, the hum of ambient systems barely perceptible beneath the polished silence. The doors behind Ethan whispered shut with finality, sealing the room in a soundproof hush. The escorts, aides, and guards were gone. Only two remained.
Ethan Walker.
And across from him, Governor Tallis Krell.
The governor stood beside the holotable at the center of the room, dressed in a crisp charcoal-grey high-collared jacket, his silver-etched insignia gleaming subtly beneath the overhead lighting. His posture was as composed as Ethan remembered, measured without being stiff, calm without being indifferent.
"Mr. Walker," Krell said, offering a small, reserved smile, "It's good to see you again. Please, have a seat."
Ethan nodded, offering the briefest of half-smiles in return. "Likewise, Governor."
He crossed the chamber and lowered himself into the chair opposite Krell. The seat, like everything else in this place, was calibrated to perfection. Ergonomic without being intrusive, firm but not rigid. It felt designed to keep its occupant alert, but not uncomfortable.
Krell remained standing for a moment longer, hands clasped behind his back, studying Ethan with quiet appraisal. Then, he too sat, folding his arms atop the table as the holotable blinked to life between them, its interface dormant for now, casting a soft azure glow across the glass.
"I trust your journey from Kynara was smooth?" Krell asked, voice pleasant but purposeful.
"Uneventful, thankfully," Ethan replied, resting one forearm lightly against the table's edge. "The Obsidian Wraith handled beautifully. The upgrades made a significant difference. And Ashen Prime... is impressive. I can see why this is your seat of governance."
"High praise," Krell said with a modest incline of his head. "Though I cannot claim credit for its design. Merely its upkeep."
"Still," Ethan added, "the accommodations, the atmosphere, the systems, everything's been well handled. It's... different from Kynara. In every possible way."
Krell's lips curved faintly. "That, I believe, is an understatement."
For a brief moment, silence settled, cordial, not awkward. The kind of silence that lingered between two people who had seen too much to waste time on pleasantries, but still respected the ritual of diplomacy.
Then, with a gesture, Krell activated the holotable.
Dozens of holographic streams blossomed into life, transparent panels displaying real-time feeds, data sets, territorial overlays, and progress logs. Most were labeled with familiar names: Valeris, Ettemakse, Arak's Hollow , Ridgefall and Gamma Outposts, Central Highlands , Eastern Badlands, Southern Deserts, Northern Frozen Reach, etc...
The regions of Kynara that had once been chaos zones. Bandit-held territories, exploited towns, forgotten and destroyed outposts. Now, their images told a different story.
"As you can see," Krell said, voice dipping into something more solemn, "progress has taken root."
He gestured to a stream showing a former war-torn mining colony, now rebuilt with stabilized housing blocks and Federation-regulated security towers.
"The Unified Kynaran Defense Force," he continued, "has completed over seventy percent of its deployment cycle. Civilian militias have been absorbed into the framework, and local governance is transitioning into representative models with Federation advisory."
Another window displayed the economic metrics of several districts. Trade flow, employment data, manufacturing output. The numbers were rising. Not fast. But steadily.
"We've also allocated significant infrastructure investment. Federation credits are being routed through Ashen Prime's administrative development program. Repair projects are underway in over thirty mid-sized settlements. Seventeen agricultural districts have resumed full production."
Ethan watched quietly. His eyes moved from one data stream to another, noting the shifts, the visuals of cleared ruins being replaced with homes, convoys delivering supplies to people who just months ago had lived in fear.
He didn't need to say anything for a long moment.
Eventually, he leaned back, arms crossing loosely as he gave a short nod.
"I've been in contact with a few people back there. Friends. Locals I worked with. They're seeing the change too. Slowly, but it's real."
Krell's gaze didn't waver. "Good. That's what we hoped for. And it wouldn't have happened without your intervention, Mr. Walker. You were the catalyst for this stability."
Ethan didn't respond to the compliment. Not directly. He didn't feel like a savior. Just someone who'd survived a war and did what he had to.
Krell seemed to sense that, and so he shifted gears, his tone lightening slightly.
"Our personal arrangement, your symbolic endorsement, your role in building trust with the coalition…" Krell's voice was steady, measured. "It made this transition smoother than any of us projected. Your name, alongside that of other coalition leaders, carried weight. Enough weight to bridge an ideological chasm. I have to thank you for agreeing to it."
Ethan nodded once, measured and calm.
"I agreed because it helped Kynara. And because I could've denounced it all if you hadn't kept your word."
There was no challenge in his tone. No arrogance. Just honesty, plain and heavy as the steel beneath their feet.
Krell tilted his head ever so slightly, regarding him with something between curiosity and appreciation.
"To your knowledge… have any clauses of our agreement been neglected?"
Ethan answered without pause.
"No. So far, everything you promised has been delivered. The clearance, the repairs, the political neutrality. You've honored every part of it so far."
A small exhale escaped Krell's lips. It wasn't relief, it was too subtle for that. But there was something in it. A soft loosening, like a piece of mental armor being unfastened for a moment.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said.
The holotable's displays began to retreat, the data feeds and progress charts dimming until the glass returned to its idle glow. Above them, the chamber lights subtly shifted, casting a cooler tint across the table, almost like a breath between movements in a symphony.
But Ethan didn't move. Because he could feel it, that faint shift in atmosphere, that quiet tightening of focus. The kind of moment just before an opponent draws a new card. Or before a mission briefing turns from logistics to real danger.
The real conversation hadn't begun yet.
Not truly.
Krell sat up straighter, adjusting his posture with almost imperceptible precision. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the table's surface, once, twice, three times. A habit, maybe. Or a signal, to himself.
His features remained composed. Diplomatic. But there was something else now in his gaze. A tension, sharpened just behind the iris. Like a man stepping out from behind a curtain, finally ready to speak not as a statesman, but as a conspirator. Or perhaps… a believer.
Ethan matched his gaze, unmoving. Watching. Waiting.
Because he knew, whatever came next… was the real reason he'd been asked to visit here.