The breeze from the North Easterlies is cool this time of year and it carried the scent of the desert sands ruled by the Mujin Empire whose legions numbered in the millions. Deimos has fought their soldiers when he was a mercenary of the Wild Lands. The Mujin Empire were terrifying in their discipline and organization, their Matriarchal society groomed the most fearsome warrior-princesses.
Deimos rode to the port to check on his band. His stallion, Storm, is a young, strong, and wild but fast as the wind. It took Deimos sometime to train him. The port is buzzing with activity as ships flies, lands, and descends like an angry beehive, prominent among them is the ships bearing the Mandrake insignia, a screaming face of a baby with leaves for hair. Their meteoric rise is a cause for concern yet their ‘products’ are highly sought after by people around the world.
The Argus stood apart among his other ships like a death scythe. Its long sleek design meant for speed like a bullet. The Argus has seen a fair amount of battles since its birth but it held on thanks to the brilliant mechanisms designed by his friend, the Master Craftsman Daedalus. His engineers glued to its hulls like barnacle, undergoing repair and maintenance from the previous battles. Deimos surveyed his band and nodded in satisfaction. They had been drilled to the point of death in all defensive protocols. He noticed sentries and lookouts in a defensive formation around the Argus and her pack.
"Welcome back, my Lord." Janus bowed. The vice-captain of the Blood Sharks is a grim man with the demeanor of an executioner. The man is pale, eyes hollow like the dead even his voice sounds like a dying man. A childhood affliction turned his irises pale as a corpse.
"Janus, how are things?"
"In prime condition, there isn’t much damage from the last skirmish. All of the spoils were turned over to the local garrison. I expect there will be a huge reward on those, only the special cargo remains. Xiphos is at the local ‘entertainment’ house and Serana is nowhere to be found." Janus gritted his teeth at the special cases in the army, "And reports from our spies are at your desk, my lord."
"Good man. And one more thing, raise the camp alert to level two."
Janus understood then saluted away. The man might be gloomy but his skill with administration is as fearsome as his reputation.
The room is filled with holographic maps, monitors, and leftover food. The wooden desk from the old 21th century era is the only sign of the luxuries that he can easily afford. Deimos sat down and picked up the nanochip. Deimos pressed the chip using his biosignature to unlock the content. The nanochip projected a holoreport containing various information.
