Chapter 1373: Tension between the Allies-2
Planet Brava – Mid-belt Sector 100
"Hah..."
Bang.
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"Are we done now yet?"
Bang.
"Do we have an agreement in this damn day or not?!"
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Caesar’s voice thundered across the chamber, thick with ire and the unmistakable weight of authority. He leaned forward, bracing both hands against the edge of the round negotiation table, his knuckles whitening from pressure. The table, made from dense blackstone mined from the under-crust of Cravon 9, had withstood decades of war-room debates—yet it creaked beneath Caesar’s fury like glass beneath a hammer.
On the opposite side sat an old man who, despite his stately appearance, now resembled a wilting monument. His thick white mustache twitched as he frowned. He stared down, not meeting Caesar’s eyes. A few droplets of sweat beaded at the top of his scalp and slowly made their way down his temple.
After several seconds of silence, the old man finally muttered in a voice barely louder than a whisper:
"...I... I still believe we could forge a better arrangement."
He looked like a man in his late fifties or early sixties—though in reality, age meant little at this level of power. His body was wide-set, heavy with old muscle and older pride, though not quite obese. His attire was that of nobility: royal-cut velvet, deep purple and black, embroidered with a fading family crest. To any outsider, he would seem formidable—a patriarch, perhaps even a former warlord. But now, beneath Caesar’s withering presence, he seemed... diminished.
Bang!