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Karin Krexar didn’t know much about war. She knew even less about combat, and she had read no more than a couple of general books on military history and strategy. She was far more familiar with ceremonial dress than weapons of war. Yet, she held command as the highest-ranking delegate on the war council for a reason.
Bang!
A man in his early fifties wearing a single star on his collar burst open the door to the command tent. Covering both his arms were massive mechanical gauntlets, each nearly eight centimeters thick. Those arms were fully capable of shattering Karin Krexar’s slender, elegant limbs like twigs and wrenching a scream from her throat in an instant.
The mechanical gauntlet was a weapon born of relentless modification and brutal reinforcement. It was a custom-enhanced war machine, the pinnacle of mechanized armor that the grizzled veteran now claimed as an extension of himself.
"Councilor! This is outrageous!"
Karin looked at the man shouting in front of her with a mixture of disappointment and pity. This was a battlefield, a place this man had spent over thirty years preparing for. Nonetheless, it was pathetic for him to have no integrity, competence, or even the dignified bitterness of old age. His life must’ve been simple, survivable with only bluster and bravado.
Watching the brigade commander strain the veins in his neck and flush red with rage, Karin found herself almost laughing.
"You...
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