In a spaceship that stood like an outer space palace, Darcina sat, reclining on a throne on a bridge as somber as the robe hugging her shapely form. Sitting with a regal bearing, she was looking down on the rest of the bridge from her platform. As for the bridge itself, it was a beehive of activity, but under the restraints of order and discipline.
Princess Darcina raised her head from the crew below, and looked at the war going on outside. It was a paradox compared to the calm inside the spaceship, and it was impossible to tell if it was discipline or indifference that made it so that the battle seemed not to concern those present.
