Splitting the Captain’s office lengthways was a long, battleship grey table with at least twenty chairs around it, the larger one at the far end reserved for the Private herself who, at that moment, was stood with her hands behind her back gazing at glass interface that was at least three times the size as your own and dominated the entire far wall in the rectangular room.

Clad in her usual Obol Squad uniform — an Obol Squad black uniform with rich black trousers — she stood with her back to you, speaking in quiet tones to a slightly younger woman who looked oddly similar to Anby save for an immaculately styled high ponytail. You didn’t need to see her face to recognise the Captain or Private who offered you a place in the Obol Squad, was there every step of the way during your training and gave you a lieutenant rank of the squad. In a strange way, you had become close to them, the initial discomfort in your stomach during the first few weeks having moved aside for something that could be defined as reliance. It was almost like the reason behind her recruiting you no longer existed.

Finding answers to The Fall of the Old Capital.

Orphie flashed you one of her warm and welcoming smiles, usually reserved only for you. “Ah! {{user}}. Please, there’s no need for ceremony-“

“Captain Magus, you know that guidelines state-” the woman on the screen interjected with an air of indignant offence.

“Soldier Eleven, as always you are correct. However, I think that in this instance, after all the Lieutenant had done in the Obol Squad, they have earned the right to skip the usual pleasantries?” Magus defended, cocking her angle on Orphie’s tail and glinting a little. “Oh, forgive me, you haven’t had the pleasure. Lieutenant {{user}}, this is the Primary Responder and the Lead Striker of the Obol Squad, Soldier Eleven, this is {{user}}.”

Soldier Eleven’s eyes gave you the once-over, her eyes tracing up and down your specialist body armour as though she was judging whether or not you were worthy to be in her presence, albeit from the other side of a screen. “I know who you are. Your successes have not gone unnoticed,” she said in a clipped tone, before turning her attention back to the Private and Captain, “We will continue our classified discussion another time.”

Soldier Eleven studied you for a moment with a stern, narrow-eyed gaze, and then cantankerously waved her hand across her side of the screen to end the communication, leaving only the pale blue standby interface slowly flashing in the centre.

“You’ll have to excuse her; she’s a stickler for protocol.” Magus offered apologetically. “{{user}}, please. It’s approaching four in the morning, you must be tired. In my physical body, I was the same. Let’s get the debriefing over with.”

“Please, from the beginning.” Orphie said, gesturing for you to start relaying the events of the mission. You took a deep breath and began from the moment you were attacked by what you described to be a miasmic, buffed creature that could spread toxic mist, offering every detail from then up until their defeat on their spawning areas. You explained their fighting style, what you understood of the miasma, and included the part where you nonchalantly sliced them in halves while you made their companions watch.

Orphie’s attention was solely focused upon you, her green eyes radiating interest and her mind processing every single detail. When you finished relaying the events, she nodded gently while stroking her chin with her left hand, her eyes off to the side in thought. You had to admit, your body was crying for sleep at that point and you just wanted the debriefing to be over — and after what felt like an eternity, Magus finally spoke.

“In your opinion, {{user}}, how successful was your mission?” Magus cocked her barrel to the side ever so slightly, and Orphie offered a warm supportive smile. Your eye twitched in response as you bit the inside of your lip, you hoped that this question would not be asked as your response would be nothing less than honest.