I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 119 – To The North

- Elowen Hopwright -

Elowen gazed intently out her office's expansive window, the sprawling metropolis's panorama stretching before her. The city's shimmering lights reflected off sleek skyscrapers, creating a tapestry of luminescence that could have captivated her under different circumstances. But after enduring a marathon of meetings throughout the day, her eyes felt heavy, and weariness settled deep within her bones. Yet, as a senator of the Interstellar Federation, her duties did not cease with the waning hours; responsibility seldom respected the confines of time.

The soft hum of the door opening drew her attention. One of her secretaries stepped in hesitantly, her presence announced only by the slight rustling of papers and the quiet click of the door latch. She peeked her head around the doorframe, her expression a blend of apprehension and urgency.

"Senator," the secretary began softly, "they've come again—the same ones as last time."

Elowen closed her eyes briefly, inhaling a measured breath. "Again," she murmured, a hint of resignation in her voice. "They never bring good news."

She heard the heavy footfalls announcing her visitors' arrival. The air seemed to shift, and a tangible tension accompanied them.

"Gentlemen, how may I assist you?" Elowen asked, her voice carrying the perfect balance of authority and cordiality as she re-entered the main space.

Seated before her were two remarkable figures—representatives of the Lionlings, a species that had only recently joined the Federation. They hailed from one of the most distant planets on the northern rim of the galaxy. Their integration into the Federation was a significant diplomatic achievement but also brought its share of complexities.

The two Lionlings were imposing, to say the least. Their bodies were cloaked in dark blue fur that seemed almost iridescent under the soft lighting of her office, each strand catching the light in a subtle shimmer. Their eyes—piercing amber orbs—held an intensity that was both fierce and intelligent, giving the impression that they missed nothing within their surroundings. Every movement they made was fluid and calculated, reminiscent of predators at the apex of their power, exuding an aura that commanded respect and attention.

Thick, luxurious manes surrounded their leonine faces; the strands braided with small metallic ornaments that glinted silver and gold. The tips of sharp fangs were visible beneath their upper lips, a silent reminder of their primal heritage. Their physiques were muscular and statuesque, the sleek armor they wore conforming to their forms while also indicating their readiness for combat. The black armored suits were adorned with intricate patterns and insignias of their clans—adding an element of artistry to their formidable appearance.

Elowen couldn't help but notice the restless swaying of their tails, the tufted ends flicking with a latent energy. As they settled into the chairs before her desk—furniture that suddenly appeared diminutive in comparison—the chairs creaked under their weight, making it seem like they were seated in children's chairs rather than standard-issue conference seating.

"Madam Senator, we have come to bring urgent news. Our friends in the southern sector of the galaxy have received some disconcerting information," the first Lionling spoke with a heavy accent, his guttural tones betraying his unfamiliarity with the Federation's language.

Elowen regarded them with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "Why bring this to me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. "There are several senators of your own race within the Senate."

She didn't relish interacting with the Lionlings. Their species had been adversaries for a long time during the tumultuous period of the Grand Game. The memories of those dark days still lingered, shadows that clung to her thoughts.

"None of them would be particularly interested in this information since it doesn't concern our own race," the Lionling explained. His amber eyes, sharp and penetrating, met hers steadily. "However, Senator, my clan believes that if we cannot assist the Federation, sooner or later, there will be tensions between the Lionlings and the other species."

Elowen studied the emissary's face for a moment. Although this wasn't their first time offering genuine—and valuable—information, she remained cautious. It all seemed too convenient.

"Unlike last time, this information isn't as valuable or straightforward," the emissary continued. "In fact, I'm here to present you with another problem to evaluate."

"Very well, tell me," Elowen said, gesturing for him to proceed. She leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers interlacing atop the polished surface of her desk.

"It is not common knowledge within the Federation," he began, "but we have a few Lionlings serving as mercenaries in the southern reaches of the galaxy, near where the Games still occur."

Elowen nodded, a flicker of unease crossing her mind. ‘Where the barbaric gods still command their legions in battle,’ she thought.

"They seldom return with significant information," the Lionling continued, "but recently, we received some leaks indicating that the Orks are rapidly expanding eastward. More importantly, their technology and magic are growing at an unprecedented rate, at least for their race."

"I imagine you have some idea of what's happening?" Elowen questioned, her gaze sharpening. "Could it simply be a blessing from the Sovereigns?"

"Unlikely," the Lionling replied, a hint of concern in his voice. "They haven't won any recent wars that would warrant such a blessing, not even while battling on two different fronts."

"All right," Elowen conceded. "How did you come by this information? Solely from mercenaries? Is it reliable?"

"Primarily through mercenaries," he admitted, "but a few months ago, another event occurred that supports our hypothesis. We don't know if it was due to Ork incompetence or accident, but one of their prisons was attacked, and several prisoners of war were freed. Some were races they had created, but among them were also species from the Federation."

"Shit." Elowen's composure faltered as she slammed her hand on the desk, a rare display of frustration. "Can they do this without violating the rules of the Grand Game?"

"If they acquired them before a race left the Games or perhaps purchased them, it's possible," the Lionling explained. "It's difficult to discern the exact limits of the rules."

"Did you manage to rescue them?" she asked urgently.

"Only one survived long enough to send a signal that was picked up by our ships," he replied. "But he's our primary clue to this sudden evolution."

"Since you're still telling me this story," Elowen said thoughtfully, "I assume there are more slaves still imprisoned?"

"Yes." The emissary nodded. "We've received coordinates of another group being used for research."

"Do you know their species?" she inquired, considering whether another branch of the Federation might be better suited to handle the issue.

"No. Only the coordinates," the Lionling admitted.

"What do you expect me to do?" Elowen asked, fixing her gaze on the emissary.

"I expect nothing," he said, rising from his chair with a graceful motion that belied his imposing stature. "But I know this information holds value for the Federation, and you'll know how best to use it."

His companion stood alongside him, their dark blue fur shimmering under the soft lighting of her office. Together, they turned and made their way toward the door, their tails swaying rhythmically behind them.

"Farewell, Senator," he said before exiting.

Elowen nodded absentmindedly before drifting back into her thoughts. ‘I cannot interfere directly with the Grand Game,’ she mused. ‘Doing so could risk awakening the Sovereign once more.’

The weight of that possibility pressed heavily on her mind. Determined, she pressed a concealed button embedded in the sleek surface of her wooden desk. Almost immediately, one of her secretaries entered through the wide double doors of her office.

"Madam Senator," the secretary said, approaching with a respectful bow.

"Summon Codename Lily," Elowen instructed, her gaze steely. "We need eyes and ears in the southern regions of the galaxy."

The secretary hesitated ever so slightly. "Should we inform the generals?" he inquired cautiously.

"Not yet," she replied firmly. "We need more information about what's happening within the Grand Game before taking any decisive action."

At the mention of the notorious game, the secretary froze for a few seconds, a flicker of unease crossing his face. The Grand Game was a perilous affair, whispered about in shadowed corners—a cosmic chess match played by powerful beings, with entire worlds as pawns.

Quickly regaining his composure, the secretary gave a curt nod. "As you wish, Senator." He bowed again before turning on his heel and exiting the room to carry out her orders.

Left alone once more, Elowen brought a hand to her temple, massaging the growing tension there. "Even after everything, the Sovereigns still find a way to make our lives difficult," she muttered under her breath.

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