"You have a mission."
Farhan straightened his posture at the voice.
He's a Marshal and has been in that position for over twenty years, and yet his eyes were still fixated on the Millinar position right above his current military rank. Just a few minutes ago, he was called and informed that he had a gold-star mission.
A gold-star mission meant that if he succeeded, it would be written in his official military achievement.
Just one more gold-star mission before he could get the promotion he wanted.
So, he was really nervous right now.
Farhand was currently standing inside a neat, classical office. Bookshelves of dark, oiled wood covered the entire room, heavy with leather-bound volumes, and the furniture gleamed with the quiet arrogance of power and status.
Behind the broad desk, a one-eyed man sifted through documents.
His single eye scanned lines of intelligence with the cold efficiency of a butcher sorting sliced meat.
