The Research and Development division, where recruits were immersed in the manipulation of bio and chemical warfare, was fraught with its own brand of peril.
The work was intricate and hazardous, requiring a deep understanding of different biological systems and their vulnerabilities—knowledge that could be as dangerous as it was essential.
Venom's focus was on the cold, clinical pursuit of scientific advancement rather than the welfare of his recruits. His division operated with ruthless efficiency, often prioritizing the success of their experiments over individual lives.
Consequently, Venom's training was stringent and impersonal, with little regard for the personal development or safety of his younglings.
They were trained to excel in lab work, their survival and success dependent on mastering the arcane and often deadly arts of their field. Venom would usually task the newcomers to go out to dangerous areas just to procure the substances required for his concoctions.
But what about Mavislin's view on leadership? How did she fit into the two names mentioned above? What was her way of disciplining and training her younglings? Was she a kind but strict leader or was she a merciless one?
The very traits that made her First Seat were the same ones that shielded her from the burden of others' opinions. Her indifference to their judgments had, paradoxically, been her strength and her selection as leader.
Mavislin's thoughts lingered on the essence of true leadership, grappling with the realization that the lack of concern for others' perceptions was not just a personal trait but a fundamental aspect of her role.
The weight of these reflections pressed down on her, mingling with a sense of weariness and contemplation.
"Have you been awake this whole time? I honestly commend your stubbornness, or foolishness in most cases," asked the Viceroy as he began to wake from his slumber.
"It is not foolish. And I've just been thinking that's all. Also, with your iron grip around me like this, I can't go anywhere so I'm just stuck here..."
"Reevaluating my life choices and how I ended up in your arms... Literally," grumbled the dragoness, trying her best to pry his arm away.
Zenos chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he relaxed his grip on the dragoness's waist, only to swiftly pull her back into his embrace.
Mavislin's cries of protest were a delightful amusement to him, her flustered attempts to free herself only adding to his enjoyment.
The Viceroy reveled in the playful struggle, his laughter echoing through the room as he tightened his hold, savoring the mix of annoyance and exhilaration in her voice.
"Since when did I become your personal pillow?!" protested Mavislin.
"When you became my trophy..." purred Zenos, dodging a punch from the unhappy dragoness.
Soon, boredom began to settle over the dragoness as she lay still in the Viceroy's arms. Her gaze, tinged with concern, drifted to his abdomen as she quietly assessed whether the wound had fully healed or if her earlier struggles might have caused any disturbance.
Zenos, noticing her anxiety, slid his hand gently behind Mavislin's head and drew it snugly against his chest. The sudden closeness elicited a soft, surprised yelp from her, adding a touch of endearing vulnerability to the moment.
"It's fine, the wound has been fully healed."
"Good, that means you're battle-ready to face Lunaris. Don't forget that I'm only giving a full day and night of grace before we strike."
Mavislin's voice was back with her cold and strict tone, something that the Viceroy could admire.
"Just as Solaris commands the day with her authority, Lunaris rules the night with an equally overpowering presence. Therefore, we will strike at the sunrise following the next one," finished the dragoness, looking right at Zenos' piercing blue eyes without hesitation.
The Viceroy closed his eyes for a moment, nodding in agreement before finally rising from the bed. His departure allowed the dragoness to breathe freely again, her chest rising and falling with relieved ease.
As Zenos moved toward his desk, he began to prepare the report detailing Solaris' defeat to present to his father.
The weight of the recent battle lingered in his mind as he set about his task, the soft rustle of papers and the faint scratch of his pen marking the start of his recount.
"If you'd like, I could share my report with yours. You could use it as a reference if you'd like, though I will not take any criticism about my handwriting," offered Mavislin as she swung her legs playfully on the side of the bed.
"Well, if your handwriting is as illegible as it looks, then I might have a problem, don't you think? Apart from that, I suppose I'll take you up on your offer to review the report," answered the Viceroy as the dragoness summoned a little snake.