The Iberian Glory.
The frontline command mothership for the Imperial Administrative Region.
As the heavy, massive metal bay doors opened, billowing white smoke spewed from both sides. The dull drone of machinery and the shriek of alarms intermingled as red lights flashed relentlessly.
Gwen, the Oil Girl, her heart still pounding with fear, piloted the ship, slowing as she flew into the mothership's hangar bay.
Before the ship's ramp had even opened, an Iberian Guard was already waiting outside with a squad of elite infantry.
His black-painted Power Armor was thick and sturdy, the Golden Oak Leaf Crown upon it brilliant and dazzling. Upon seeing Reinhardt, the Guard bowed his head in respect. Behind him, the twenty elite infantrymen, split into two squads, knelt on one knee, their heads bowed low.
"My Lord, please follow me."
The Guard seemed to be acquainted with Matthias; they exchanged a glance and a nod of greeting.
