Nobody says a word aboard the Inquisition. There is a permanent coldness that lingers in every crevice of the Imperial vessel. Edenyte Enforces line the corridors. Their immaculate, stainless black uniforms make it look as though they are literally part of the ship. The only sound that can be heard is the hum of the engines and the slight whistle of the wind outside the ship as it descends through the atmosphere of Gahldor.
An officer walks briskly from the mission kiosk towards the very front of the bridge where a domineering silver chair resides in line with the exact center of the ship. He carries a small device in his hand. It's pressed close to his chest as if he is trying to protect it at all costs.
The officer's boots clacking against the metal floor are entirely too loud given ho
