Chapter 17: You’re telling me how to do my job?

The rare morning sunlight had yet to fully dispel the shadows cast by the towering steel spires.

But inside the top-floor conference room of the Command Center, the atmosphere was already as heavy as lead.

Seraphina sat at the head of the long conference table. Her long silver hair was tied back with a simple obsidian hairpin, though a few rebellious strands still framed her smooth forehead.

She wore a sharply tailored black uniform. The snug collar and cuffs only accentuated her porcelain-pale skin and commanding presence.

Even separated by cascading holographic light screens, the chill and impatience radiating from her were unmistakable.

On both sides of the long table sat a dozen or so elderly figures, each in robes of various colors, their faces etched with the marks of age and cunning.

—These were the long-standing heads of Eisenburg’s key departments.

From logistics and supply, to weapons maintenance;

From personnel deployment, to intelligence gathering…

“Your Majesty, regarding your proposal to repurpose waste from the western mining fields,” an elderly, slightly rotund man with greying hair began slowly, “we believe… there is still room for discussion.”

He was one of the representatives of the so-called “Council of Elders.”

But Seraphina gave him no courtesy in return.

These old geezers clinging to the fringes of Eisenburg’s power structure—deluded into thinking their control over certain resources gave them leverage—loved using outdated rules to bog down her decisions.

“Discussion?”

Seraphina tapped the table with one finger, her heterochromatic eyes sweeping over every face present, laced with undisguised mockery:

“Have any of you come up with a better idea?”

“Hmph—tell me, can you make those lands already corroded by the ash fog yield crops faster than my plan?”

At her rebuttal, the old man lowered his head slightly.

Another gaunt-faced councilor cleared his throat and chimed in:

“Your Majesty, you misunderstand.”

“We merely believe that all resource allocation should prioritize the greater good of Eisenburg.”

“Moreover… you seem to have invested quite a lot of resources and attention into that girl of unknown origin lately…”

“Too much?” Seraphina crossed her legs, resting her cheek on one hand as she lounged lazily in her chair. Her lips curled into a cold smile.

“Who makes that call—me, or you?”

“Or are you implying Eisenburg’s food stores are so abundant that we can afford to ignore any opportunity to increase production?”

The words stuck in the councilor’s throat. He, too, fell silent like the one before him.

“Your Majesty, there’s also the matter of the new refugee settlement policy…”

“If the labor quotas are too harsh, it may trigger unrest…”

This time, a bespectacled middle-aged man spoke up cautiously.

“Anyone who dares riot will be crushed. Anyone who doesn’t want to stay can be kicked out. Eisenburg isn’t a charity—we won’t feed any useless mouths. Got that?”

“We understand your reasoning, Your Majesty, but given the current situation… perhaps a more cautious approach is warranted…”

“Are you teaching me how to do my job?” Seraphina narrowed her eyes and rose slowly to her feet, her silver hair cascading down like a waterfall.

The man’s face turned deathly pale.

The air in the room grew even more suffocating.

These old parasites—nominally advisors—were more like leeches feeding off Eisenburg, fattened by the nutrients of power, yet paralyzed with fear at any real reform.

They were afraid her centralization of power would shake the very foundation of their Elder Council…

But without the Queen at the helm, even putting aside the threat of roaming bandits, the surrounding powers—the Sanctum and the Wanderers—would waste no time in launching an invasion.

If not for Eisenburg’s current reliance on the Council’s tangled web of supply lines and their grip on certain aging, “experienced” technicians for maintaining old-world infrastructure—

Seraphina would’ve long since fed the lot of them—and their outdated opinions—to the iron devourer worms.

This delicate balance forced both sides to make concessions.

“Please, Your Majesty, calm your anger,” the grey-haired elder tried to smooth things over. “Old Li was just… concerned for Eisenburg’s future…”

“Your Majesty, we do not question your judgment…”

“Enough,” Seraphina snapped coldly, cutting off their incessant chatter.

So damn annoying.

If only she didn’t have to worry about logistics—she could act freely…

And wouldn’t have to deal with these constant limitations.

With hands behind her back, she gazed at each stiff face in turn:

“I know the Elder Council has devoted itself tirelessly to Eisenburg. I appreciate that.”

“But everything has its priority.”

“If none of you can come up with a better plan, then mine will be implemented—unconditionally.”

Her tone was calm, but her words allowed no room for argument.

“My patience is limited. Continue with the scheduled investment into the western test fields.”

“If anyone is unable to provide the necessary support—I’ll take over their department personally.”

“That’s all. This meeting is over.”

Several of the elders paled slightly at her words.

They knew well—this young queen always meant what she said.

“Your Majesty! Regarding the western field investment, could we at least—”

Seraphina shot a cold glance at the speaker, her voice like ice: “That’s my business.”

With that, she strode out without another word, leaving behind a room full of stunned, fuming, yet utterly powerless old men.

Evelyn followed close behind. Just before the metal door closed, she gave a polite nod to the Council—perfunctory, at best.

“Useless parasites,” Seraphina spat under her breath, striding toward the elevator. “Won’t learn until they’re staring death in the face…”

Her frustration was at a breaking point. She needed an outlet—or at least… something interesting.

Mili opened her eyes and immediately felt like her whole body had been disassembled and put back together wrong.

She was overwhelmed by a weariness too deep for words—her eyelids as heavy as lead, her limbs achy and weak.

Curled up in the soft blankets, she stared blankly at the sunlight streaming through the window, yesterday’s suffocating fear and humiliation still clinging to her like cobwebs.

There was no telling when this kind of life would end.

She didn’t even know how much longer she could hold out…

What if she came up with some new way to torment her? What if things escalated again? What then?

Mili had already started preparing for the worst.

She even wondered—if she were threatened like that again—would she just snap? Go completely insane? Maybe that’d be easier…

After all, this body was far more fragile than she had expected.

And yet, the rough awakening she feared… never came.

The room was quiet. Only the sound of patrol boots echoed now and then from outside, drawing near and fading away.

It seemed…

Nothing was different from usual.

As her mind wandered, the door creaked open—

It wasn’t Seraphina.

It was that ever-expressionless silver-armored adjutant.

“Miss Mili, Her Majesty requests your presence,” Evelyn said, her voice as calm as ever.

Mili’s heart instantly leapt into her throat.

So it’s come after all.

She slowly climbed out of bed as Evelyn brought her a set of clean, plain clothes.

Even while changing, she could feel her fingers trembling slightly.

Her fear of Seraphina was buried too deep—it had become instinctual.

Whatever. If it’s going to happen, let it happen.

A knife to the neck is a knife either way.

Might as well get it over with.