Chapter Twenty-Seven

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"Quality means doing it right when no one is looking

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"Quality means doing it right when no one is looking." - Henry Ford

"With all due respect, Valen, but I think you're mistaken," the shorter of the two Generals protests, sneaking a peripheral look at the other General.

The other General doesn't spare the talker a glance and keeps his eyes on Valen's chest, refusing to look any higher. Valen's unfavourable expression disappears and instead, a blank one returns in its place. He must calm himself. If not internally, then at least externally.

The male continues, "I trained this lot myself, so I can assure you that they are far stronger than the average pack member."

I don't care, Valen grumbles. Just because they're stronger than untrained members doesn't mean —

He exhales softly through his nose to calm his boiling thoughts.

They won't understand. There's no point discussing this if the male's pride stands in the way.

The other General, who is only an inch taller, looks at the smaller General and then takes a wide step away from him. He clears his throat and says, "that's not what he asked, Nik."

"Well, then what do you think?," blurts Nik. He turns to the other General with his hands thrown out, obviously insulted. "Do you think they're weak too?"

Valen's eyes land on the taller General's face, awaiting his response. If this one wants to keep his Title, then he should agree with Valen's assessment. Anyone with a trained eye can see that these Warriors are not up to standard, especially at a time like this where they might be sent off into battle to ensure the safety and prosperity of the Pack.

Scratching the back of his neck, the taller General looks away and mumbles, "they could be stronger..."

Pleased with his response, Valen looks off to the side and towards the digital clock. Five minutes until his Gamma arrives. That should be enough time to deal with the now-bickering pair.

Valen takes a breath, tiring of their antics. "Enough," he says, eyebrows lowering as he looks down at them. They shut their mouths mid-sentence and turn their heads away from each other. "These Warriors of yours," Valen starts, motioning to the main floor with a brief tilt of his head, "are walking corpses."

Nik tries to object, but Valen silences him with a hard look.

The newly appointed General uncrosses his arms and looks over the railing, down at the observant Warriors. His colourless eyes move through them, causing them to shiver and move their sheepish gazes to focus on the blue mats underneath their boots instead. Dejected, they console themselves with self-soothing gestures. As he watches them, Valen finds himself remaining firm with his observation. Better they feel upset than walk straight into their slaughter with a dangerous load of false confidence.

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