Immediately, he straightened and assumed the position every Fittus member was taught when in the presence of the commander.

Exploded had heard that, against tradition, the commander had dictated the position himself rather than keeping the more common one. It was profane, he knew.

But no one had enough audacity to question the commander’s decision, not even the second-in-command; and for a good reason.

“Well, well,” said the commander.

His voice was low but smooth, emitting danger, and his eyes were black, calculating, intimidating.

His position, his gait, everything about him indicated a cunning warrior: trusting no one, caring about nothing.

He could betray without a hint of remorse, kill without a twinge of conscience.

His large wings, pristine teeth, sharp claws, and muscular body allowed no contradiction.

“I have summoned you here for an arrangement of democracy,” the commander said.

Exploded could barely contain his confusion – his thoughts burst with questions.

The commander had never said anything over than three words to Exploded, yet know – now the commander was to speak with Exploded about something that not even the second-in-command would hear about!

Exploded was further shocked as the commander continued, “An overall shift in the balances of power which I have decreed, and were followed for more than thirty years.”

The commander’s tone had changed: from an icy calm to an added hint of glee and triumph.

“Those disappointed by this decision will be calmed and excited again by the chance to rise in position, as high as second in command.”

Exploded struggled to follow what the commander was speaking about through his own feelings. Second in command? He thought hazily. Power?