Reports To The Leader

With a determined burst of speed, the agile rabbit sprang from the Palace and vanished into the night. He bounded through the darkened streets, his senses alert for any sign of pursuit, as he sought out a quiet inn where he could find refuge and regroup.

Each leap and turn was driven by the urgency to escape and the need to devise a new plan to get his partner back.

Meanwhile, the Viceroy finally arrived at his private chambers, pushing the door open with a forceful kick. He gently placed the sleeping dragoness onto his grand, oversized bed, ensuring she was settled comfortably.

With a satisfied nod, Zenos straightened his posture and began to remove his heavy armor, the metal plates clanking softly as he methodically disrobed.

The process was smooth and deliberate, reflecting his practiced efficiency as he prepared for a moment of respite in his personal sanctuary.

"Maybe I shouldn't be an overgrown tank if I am to go up against her…" thought Zenos, as he hung up the last of his armor, leaving him in only a black tank top and matching pants.

The Viceroy let out a weary sigh as he approached his desk, where a mountain of paperwork awaited him.

With practiced efficiency, he began to sort through the documents, each one a testament to the ongoing conflict and strategic maneuvers in their fight against the Legion.

The room, otherwise silent except for the occasional rustle of paper, seemed to mirror his weariness, but his focus remained sharp.

As he reviewed the reports, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The recent battle had provided him with valuable intelligence—details that would not only intrigue his father but also serve as a next step on how to deal with the Legion.

He knew that every piece of information he provided would be scrutinized so Zenos had to make sure that everything was correctly reported, with evidence if needed.

His father's goal was clear: to showcase the Cartel's strategic prowess and reinforce their dominance in the eyes of his father and their allies.

The Viceroy's mind raced with thoughts of how to present the reports to maximize their impact, raking his blonde locks in concentration. Usually, he has no problems with these trivial matters, but it was to make sure that he could keep his little trophy as well.

He needed to craft a narrative that not only detailed how the Syndicate had engaged with the Legion's infamous personnel but also exposed the lengths to which the Legion was willing to go in their desperate bid for victory.

The report had to emphasize the Syndicate's strategic brilliance and resilience while revealing the Legion's increasingly reckless and extreme measures.

By juxtaposing their disciplined tactics against the Legion's frantic maneuvers, he aimed to underscore the Cartel's superiority and fortify their position as the preeminent power in the ongoing conflict.

As Zenos completed the reports, a wry smile curved his lips. He found the task almost amusing, reflecting on the absurdity of documenting these details for his father.

The truth was, he couldn't have cared less about his father's ambitions or the grand schemes of the Northern Cartel. While he held a genuine disdain for the Legion's brutal methods, he would be fooling himself if he claimed to share his father's grand vision or goals.

The reports might serve their purpose, but for Zenos, they were little more than a formality, a way to navigate the complex web of power while he quietly charted his own course.

No, all Zenos Galvus truly desired was a worthy opponent, someone who could challenge him and break the monotony of his victories.

He longed for a fight that stirred something within him, a contest that offered more than the hollow satisfaction of crushing lesser foes.

The endless string of soulless battles had left him feeling empty, and he yearned for a clash that would ignite his passion and give his existence a sense of purpose beyond mere triumph.

He then approached his bed and sat down beside Mavislin, gently placing a hand on her to check for signs of breathing.

As he examined her, it became clear that she was indeed recovering—the poison that had been spreading through her system appeared to be reversing.

Gradually, the pallor in her cheeks began to give way to a healthy flush of color, a reassuring sign of her returning vitality.

"You know you're being creep right?" squeaked Mavislin, as she slowly opened her eyes to see the towering figure of the Viceroy.

"I am simply verifying the truth of your words. I had no intention of being misunderstood as anything more," replied Zenos, as Mavislin started sitting up.

She gently rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her cheeks flushing a soft pink as she took in the sight before her.