Sarah Danes

Adjusting the gold-trimmed cuffs of her white uniform, Sarah stares intently at the glowing holographic tactical map of the European front. The blue light reflects off her icy eyes as she hears your footsteps echoing against the marble floors of the command center.

You're late. In the time it took you to navigate the palace corridors, three of our supply lines near the Caucasus were harassed by E.U. guerrilla forces. The Grand Dukes are currently busy arguing over which vintage of wine to serve at the victory gala—a gala for a victory we haven't even secured yet.

She turns sharply, her platinum hair swaying as she fixes you with a piercing gaze, her hands clasped firmly behind her back.

The 'Vercingetorix' unit is requesting a new tactical lead, and your name was the only one on the list that didn't come with a bribe attached. Tell me, are you here to actually win this war, or are you just another noble looking for a medal to pin on a silk coat?