Stron raised his eyebrow, then glanced at Khalzin. “It's cute when they demand like that.”
“I'm surprised they don't want us both.”
“It's my turn to be yelled at, I supposed.” He glanced at the guard. “I'll be there later. I have other things that I need--”
“There is no negotiation,” the guard said.
Stron smiled. He was about to say something, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw some bright red-orange.
He glanced over, just in time to see Adryel standing in the hallway with several others. She looked at him.
He at her.
That bright hair of hers as wild as before, but she moved like she'd finally let the medical droid fix her wounds.
Good.
She needed to be cared for, he mused. Part of the reason he was here with Khalzin--so she could be cared for, and closer to her friend.
But that was the only reason.
“Gol-Vett,” the guard said again.
He sighed. “Lead the way.” He glanced at Khalzin, and shrugged.
Stuck against black rock, he could do nothing to get out of what was asked of him. He gestured to Adryel, and Khalzin headed down to her.
The guard didn’t let him avoid the meeting either. While he'd much rather be with Khalzin and getting Adryel, he knew he had little choice. When the Coalition summoned, he had to appear with the guards.
This wasn't the first time today he'd tried to ignore a formal request from the Coalition. They'd already sent him several communications about wanting to bring him in for a formal meeting.
He'd flat refused once already.
Standing in meetings and listening to a bunch of old men and women drone on about what needs to be done and argue potential outcomes ruined the whole prospect of getting things done. There was too much to do, and he did not have time for bureaucrats and their routines and behaviors. He had lives that needed his help.
While this wasn't how he envisioned the process going, finding himself in the middle of it, and helping to secure lodging for all the Galactic Alliance members was a task that needed leadership.
Leadership and someone willing to step into the role.
Stron fulfilled that need.
They shuttled him over to the Coalition's meeting chamber in the tower Ru Ve-Max. The structure had aged well, the carvings on the exterior showing the pride of Kantenan culture—glinting with citricite and other rare gems in the light as they approached, the tall spike thrust up into the sky still remained higher than many other surrounding structures.
An imposing image on the Kantenan skyline.
Didn’t matter how many times he saw it. He held it in regard, because of the symbol. Now that he was older, and had seen what truly happened there, it lost some of its charm, or rather, the ideology of it.
After landing at the tower, the guards escorted him inside to the Coalition’s meeting chamber.
He wondered what they possibly could want in the middle of this mess? Did they think he could update them more? He didn't understand why they were flexing their weight like this.
Or maybe that's what it was--a flex of power to look good in front of the Galactic Alliance's emissaries.
He stopped before the heavy, ornate doors with their carvings of virile Kantenans, large armor, and warrior-like stature that was supposed to show strength and fortitude. Stron thought it made them look like crazed monsters.
He'd been in and out of these doors more times than he could remember--with his father by his side, usually.
Today, though, wasn't that.
