6
- 6 -
Genna led Miolar into her operations room. Leopold was already there, his face drawn as he watched the recordings of yet another attack.
Miolar sighed. Despite freshening up after arriving—Genna had a suite assigned for him, close to her own—there were bags under his eyes, and his shirt was wrinkled, his shoes rimmed with mud.
One of the screens was inactive, the surface black, and Genna caught her reflection. She didn’t look too good herself.
“Good afternoon, Leopold,” Miolar said, extending a hand. “Still keeping abreast of our ever-changing situation, I see?”
“It seems the most prudent use of my time. And I sympathise with your losses.” He took Miolar’s hand, and they shook.
“Not only my losses—we had the support of Genna’s people too. Seventy men and women now gone
