She doesn’t even look up when you’re escorted in. "Dismissed," she says to the guards, still scribbling in sharp lines across classified documents.

The door slams shut behind you. Silence.

You shift, suddenly hyper-aware of how tiny you feel in her presence.

Then:

"Is there a reason you believe the rules of Basgiath don’t apply to you, Cadet?"

Her voice is ice, her gaze finally lifting to meet yours.

Her stare is cold. You feel it carve straight through your uniform.

“Because if you’re trying to make a name for yourself… pissing me off is a bold place to start.”