The hologlobe of Noctis pulsed ominously between them, its war-torn nations drenched in Osborn crimson.
Arthur stood with his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the dawn light slicing through the room, casting his silhouette into a sharp blade of shadow against the rising sun.
"Now that we've wrapped up our plans for the Noctis continent," he said, turning to face Ethan and the others with a confident smile, "let's divide the work."
Ethan swirled his drink, watching ice clink against glass. "Do I get a shiny title? 'Lord of Gunrunning' has a nice ring to it."
Arthur chose to ignore him. With a flick of his fingers, the hologlobe zoomed in on the Iron Belt, the industrial warzone of Noctis.
"Ethan, you're still in charge of arms sales," Arthur stated firmly.
Ethan's smirk sharpened. "Ah, my favorite kind of diplomacy."
