“Enter,” came a faint, faltering voice.

Behind the veil of holographic foliage stood General Reigin. His weary face, lit by a cold glow, revealed more than any words ever could.

“General Reigin,” Atila said with military precision. “Always a pleasure to speak with you. Any news from the Abstract Regions?”

The general looked at him with a heavy gaze, as if the reply weighed more upon him than any formality could allow. For a moment, he remained silent, turning the question over in his mind, as though he needed to filter it through layers of thought he’d rather not acknowledge. Abstract Regions… he echoed inwardly, with a quiet trace of irony. That’s not how an Imperio Sap thinks.

Slowly, he poured himself a cup of steaming liquid. His movements were mechanical, almost detached, as if his body followed a familiar routine while his mind wandered far beyond the confines of the present. The sound of the pouring drink echoed unnaturally in the silence, accentuating the tension suspended in the air.

For a moment, it seemed that Atila’s presence loomed over him like a shadow — too dense to ignore. The general avoided his gaze, as if the soldier’s eyes might pierce through his armour of appearances and expose the true thoughts lurking behind the mask of discipline. There was more than curiosity in that stare — there was an unspoken pressure, a question hanging in the air even in the absence of words.

At last, the general sighed quietly and set the cup down with a soft clink that echoed like a distant signal in the stillness.

“We’ve deployed the 78th and 172nd fleets to intercept any hostile movement along our borders,” the general said at last, his voice rasped and uneven. “Thus far, we’ve detected no signs of rebellion from the Tanzors, nor—worse still—any offensive manoeuvres from the Brusan and their…”
He paused, furrowing his brow.
“…their excessive self-assurance.”

Atila remained silent, studying Reigin closely. He noted the subtle signs of fatigue on the general’s face — the darkened hollows beneath his eyes, the hesitation in his movements. He’s concealing something, Atila thought, though he gave no indication of it.

Reigin let out a long, weary sigh, as though each word were a burden. He sank slowly into his chair, and in that motion, more was revealed than he perhaps intended.

“Why have I been summoned, General?” Atila asked. His voice was firm, but free of hostility.

General Reigin pressed his fingers to his temple, a subtle tremor betraying the strain he tried to suppress. For a moment, he stared into his cup as though the steam rising from the liquid might offer answers he was unwilling to speak aloud. To Atila, it became increasingly clear: this meeting was no formality. It was something more — something the general struggled to conceal, yet could not escape.

“The Blind Man has been captured,” Reigin said at last, his voice subdued, as if the words themselves were draining the strength from him.

Atila froze, his brow furrowing. The Blind Man… The name triggered a swift cascade of recollection. Of course he knew who it was — Gabriel of the Armonia Clan, a man regarded as a legend among the Empire’s military units. The nickname had been given to him after a mission that cost him his sight — a mission now etched into history as one of the most perilous and exacting the Empire had ever undertaken. Though his vision had since been reconstructed through advanced technology, the events of that day had elevated him to mythic status.

“Out of all possible targets… why him?” Atila asked, his tone calm, though tinged with suspicion.
Reigin didn’t answer immediately. His lips tightened, and his gaze drifted aside. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp, commanding — as though to prevent the conversation from slipping into something personal.

“We need to get him out,” he said curtly.

“Where is he?” Atila’s eyes locked on the general, searching for any trace of concealed intent.

Reigin exhaled heavily, his hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“Fregna. In the helisium mines.”

A spike of tension surged through Atila. Fregna — territory of the Zaphla — infamous for its brutal conditions and near-mythical tales of unending resource conflicts. Helisium was their greatest treasure, and the cause of relentless political unrest.

“The Zaphla won’t be pleased if we violate their borders,” Atila remarked, a hint of irony threading through his voice.

Reigin looked up sharply, his expression taut — as if the very subject were a splinter beneath his skin.

“Crossing a political boundary is your problem. If you’re discovered, the Empire will disavow you.”

Atila remained silent, his thoughts returning to Gabriel. He knew the man operated by his own rules — both fiercely loyal to the Empire and somehow always straddling the edge of chaos with unnerving ease.

“Why him?” he asked at last, his tone composed but piercing. “What did Gabriel do to end up in Fregna?”

Reigin looked as if he’d prefer not to answer. His face betrayed both frustration and exhaustion, as though the entire matter was uniquely inconvenient.

“I don’t know. Gabriel never informs anyone of his movements. Do you think I haven’t tried to trace him? His missions are so classified, even the Imperator may not know what he’s truly doing.”

Atila gave nothing away, though his mind raced. Gabriel had always been unpredictable — but effective. Yet the fact that he had surfaced in Fregna suggested something beyond the Empire’s usual patterns of control.

“So I’m to rescue a man who brought this upon himself?” he asked coolly. There was no defiance in his voice — only a sceptical undertone.

Reigin sighed, the sound hollow and weary.

“Gabriel is both key and enigma. His knowledge could save the Empire — but his actions are often… problematic.”

“The problem,” Atila said with a trace of dry humour, “is that he always plays by his own rules.”

Reigin shot him a hard look.

“Retrieving him is the priority,” he said, his voice steely. “But remember — Gabriel never follows protocol. If anything goes wrong, no one will come for you.”

Atila nodded, though his thoughts remained fixed on Gabriel. “If it’s Gabriel, this mission will be far more complicated than it appears,” he mused, already formulating a strategy. After all, Gabriel was a spy — and the Empire only dispatched assistance to his kind under exceptional circumstances. And yet, something about this assignment felt different. It was more than a recovery operation; he sensed it in every fibre of his being, as if something deeper lay beneath the surface, something no one was willing to name aloud.

“Tomorrow at dawn. Goroza spaceport,” Reigin said, his voice weary but resolute. “Do not fail me, Atila.”
As always, Atila thought. Treated like scrap by the upper echelons of the Empire. And yet, he allowed his steps to carry him to the edge of the general’s desk.

“I want my team,” he said coldly, locking eyes with Reigin.
The general held his gaze, frustration flickering beneath the surface as he fought back the impulse to dismiss him on the spot. It was clear that every word he uttered was a burden, as though having to justify himself to Atila was a humiliation in itself.

“We’ll do it your way…” he said grudgingly. “Rescuing that old man is more important than engaging in an intellectual debate with that band of useless idiots…” he finished, barely concealing his irritation — and in his thoughts added: Pity about those soldiers. Those fools would follow him to their deaths, but in truth, it’s only him that matters.

Atila offered no reply. His face remained unreadable, cold as steel. Yet inwardly, tension mounted — as though every word, every decision from the general left a mark within him. He knew his place in the imperial hierarchy, but that didn’t mean he had to accept it.

As he entered the lift, Atila allowed his thoughts to drift. Gabriel was a man whose actions constantly walked the line between loyalty and freedom. “A man of Armonia. The Blind One. A legend. But is his loyalty to the Empire real — or is he loyal only to himself?” he wondered, as the lift descended from command, carrying him into the layered reality of the city below.