Unnati Jha’s office was expansive, boasting clean, minimalistic décor and lots of natural light. A large, well-polished wooden desk dominated the space; covered in topographic maps, stacks of files, and a gleaming copper pen-stand affixed with the national flag.

A sleek flat-screen TV adorned the wall directly facing the desk.

The office, practical yet arresting, suited its occupant well.

The Chief Hunter was nothing if not a formidable presence. Even when she wasn’t necessarily trying to be.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, Unnati gestured for Ruban and Simani to take the two chairs opposite her.

With a brief glance at each other, they complied.

Silently, Unnati withdrew a small remote from a drawer in her desk and switched on the TV.

Once again, Simani and Ruban exchanged quizzical glances, before turning their chairs around to face the television.

The tall, robust figure of Rifaq Nazir materialized on the screen. The defence minister was standing on what looked to be a makeshift podium.

Moments later, the camera panned out to reveal that he stood before a massive crowd. They’d gathered in some kind of an open field. And from what Ruban could see, he was sure the crowd numbered at least a thousand, if not more.

“I didn’t know there was a rally planned for today,” Ruban frowned. “That looks like Bidhan Park. Was the East Ragah Division informed of this gathering?” He glanced at Unnati, apologetic. “I don’t know how I missed it.”

“Keep watching,” Unnati instructed, without taking her eyes off the TV.

Ruban turned his attention back to the screen, watching the crowd erupt in cheers and applause over whatever the defence minister had said.

Among the gathering, he spotted a few small groups dressed in the pristine white tunics favored by the Humans Against Vaan Alliance. The cult commonly known as HAVA.

The hairs on the back of Ruban’s neck bristled with apprehension.

And that sense of unease only grew stronger with each sentence the defence minister spoke. “Their story defies belief,” Rifaq bellowed into his microphone. “That a creature as powerful as Prince Shwaan could’ve been held hostage—” The crowd roared its acquiescence before he could finish. Undeterred, he continued. “By a cretin like Janak Nath and his ragtag bunch of untrained goons.

“And not only were they able to hold him against his will – for days, if not weeks.” He paused briefly to let the crowd settle, ensuring that his voice would resonate clearly across the field. “We’re expected to believe that those worthless thugs were also able to sear their boss’s name onto his skin.”

Tepid, uneasy laughter filled the air.

“The story they’re telling us doesn’t add up. Not unless the prince of Vaan is the most incompetent fool in the universe.” More tittered laughter followed. Rifaq pressed on, visibly irritated. “There’s no way the Qawirsin could’ve held him captive for so long without being obliterated. They’re lying. Anyone with half a braincell is bound to reach that conclusion, sooner or later.

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“The more interesting question is, what exactly is it that they’re lying about?” He leaned ever so slightly closer to the mic. “Is it just the branding? Or was the abduction in its entirety a fabricated tale? Was Prince Shwaan working with the mafia all along? Did they help him plant false evidence to back up his story? Maybe even create that fake brand to hoodwink the common people of Vandram and gain their sympathy...”

He continued in this vein for another few minutes. The crowd responded to his words with fervent enthusiasm; perhaps even a bit of aggression.

“The Aeriels of Vaan are different from their earthbound counterparts, they assure us.” Rifaq sneered, each syllable swathed in skepticism. “Better. More peaceful.” He shook his head. “Why not walk the talk? Give us something more convincing than empty promises, why don’t they?

“Will the Aeriels of Vaan agree to being monitored via tracking chips? At least for the first hundred years of the alliance?” He demanded. “It’s the least they can do to earn our trust, after everything they’ve put us through. After essentially using earth as their prison colony for the last six hundred years—”

With a quick press of her remote, Unnati turned off the TV. “The alliance can’t go forward with such vehement opposition from the defence minister,” she said bluntly.

Ruban inclined his head, noting her choice of words.

‘Such vehement opposition from the defence minister,’ he echoed silently.

Unnati Jha wasn’t the type to speak without thinking. So, if she’d singled out the defence minister for his opposition to the alliance, there had to be a reason for it.

Apparently, Simani had come to the same conclusion. “This is surprising. If anything, I’d have expected stronger opposition from the minister of external affairs,” she prompted, her tone seemingly nonchalant.

Unnati’s dark, shrewd gaze locked on Simani. “Jheel is…concerned that Kanbar and Zaini are making overtures to Vaan. Although it’s all hush-hush for now.” She sighed, glancing briefly down at the open file before her. “But there’s apprehension within the foreign service. That while we distract ourselves with internal wrangling, either Kanbar or Zaini might seize the opportunity to secure an alliance with Vaan. And I don’t need to tell you how that’d pose an additional threat to Vandram’s security.”

Not to mention the economic fallout of another country becoming Vaan’s primary ally on earth, Ruban thought to himself. Ashwin had made no bones about the fact that the first country to ally itself with Vaan would receive preferential treatment. At least on the economic front. And it wouldn’t take long for economic might to transform into military might, even if Vaan played no direct role in arming its allies.

Besides, neither the Vandran public nor government were keen to play second fiddle to their neighbors. Economically or otherwise.

“What about the cabinet secretary?” Simani asked, after a minute’s silence.

Hiba Asrar had been scheduled to retire last week. But at the eleventh hour, they’d extended her term by another six months.

Considering the extraordinary circumstances the government was facing, it wasn’t surprising that the prime minister wanted to hang on to his most trusted aides. Especially those like Hiba, who had decades of experience (and a sterling track record) behind them.

Unnati lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Hiba’s always had her finger on the pulse of public opinion. She knows the tide is turning. And she’ll do what she has to, to stay ahead of the curve.” Planting her elbows on the desk, Unnati crossed her fingers loosely together. “For the moment, she’s playing it safe. The prime minister has stayed remarkably neutral on the topic of the Vaan alliance, in all his recent interactions with the press. That’s probably Hiba’s doing. She knows the alliance is gaining rapid public support. And she doesn’t want him to alienate either side of the voter base just yet.”

Ruban blinked. The implications of her words were staggering. The ministers of commerce and external affairs were now openly in favor of the alliance. Both had their own reasons for it. But the bottom line was, they’d decisively crossed over to their side. Abandoned any pretense at neutrality.

The prime minister wouldn’t commit to either side, at this point. That was to be expected.

The IAW also maintained a neutral stance. Ruban got the impression that Raizada wasn’t personally opposed to the idea of the alliance. But he wouldn’t openly defy the Department of Defence. He was too much of a traditionalist, for that.

And the Department of Defence had both Rifaq Nazir and Dhriti Pathak – two of the staunchest, most vehement critics of the alliance.