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Iammelon wrote:

The Zantine delegation walked out of the room without much fuss, a bit confused but seeing no reason to object to the two Emperors speaking alone. Brackson, reluctantly, did move to go outside as well. Though he looked back to Zenos for a bit of reassurance on the topic first. The Emperor gave him a small nod, and Brackson exited the room along with the other Zantine delegates and guards, leaving Martin and Zenos alone within the meeting room.

Out in the music room, Brackson went over to the woman in the corner. He crossed his arms and grunted, his tone a bit annoyed, "I would not have been worried if I had known ahead of time. But I hope you should understand that I am not a mage, psionics expert, or anything else of the sort. Others in the Rangian Vanguard handle these matters. My work is keeping the Emperor safe, that is all. Thus when I have certain reports that indicate oddities within the Bezzanian Court, a strange woman who's motives are unknown to me grabs my attention when she is so utterly focused on my charge. The application of magics only makes that even more concerning, in fact." He uncrossed his arms and sighed, but relaxed his tone a bit, "Now I am less worried now that I know what you were doing, but I can't exactly say I am happy. I know not how your truthseer arts work, but any magic directed at the Emperor is still of concern to me. Not all is so benign. So you'll have to forgive me for erring on the side of caution instead of waiting for a head to explode. Just know that I do not have any blame thrown around, your precaution is an understandable one. We'd likely employ similar individuals on Instabull if we had them, but the mages we have access to are of a different sort."

Back in the meeting room, Zenos sat himself down after waiting for everyone to pile out. He wasn't so sure what this was about, but that was soon figured out when Martin explained himself. The Human sighed, but nodded, "I can't say I am pleased to have somebody poking at my mind, but I understand your worries. False allies are all too common these days, I know this all too well from the Civil War and the Union. You have my forgiveness on the matter, and I appreciate your honesty. But that should certify that I was not lying about being interested in deepening our friendship, and the growing bonds between our two Empires. Zantium will need friends in the coming times as well, as the Talmyrox is deeply unstable, the Union seeks ever greater hegemony, and we Zantines don't really have any friendly bonds with the Tordelians to speak of. What few interactions my people have had with them were certainly not friendly, that I can say for sure. Thus, Martin, Zantium seeks a friend in Bezzania not just because of friendship, but also in truth it is also the pragmatic choice. I don't like saying that as it makes me feel... ingenuine, but that is a truth here."

"Our interests do not clash with eachother, we are both in need of friends in dangerous times, and we lack any true hostility with one another. Our values may not be perfectly aligned but that is nothing that cannot be accounted for. This is the angle by which I can justify these growing bonds to the more skeptical of my court." He said that dryly, but then perked up with a smile, "But that's all that really is to me, a justification. My personal angle has, and always will be, far more personal. I seek friends, true friends, and in you I can see that Martin. That's the real reason I considered this at all! Zantium has always been a more emotional empire, and I don't really intend to change that. We'd lose our spirit by giving in to pragmatism above all. I do hope that sentiment can be returned."

The Emperor then sighed, "And... Do forgive Brackson. I saw him in the back, and I can only assume he had noticed your wizard. He's no mage himself, but he's perceptive and protective. I hope he didn't cause too much issue."

The woman spoke quietly to Brackson, "yes, I can see your earnest belief in your emperor. My own emperor charged me only to see the truth. My skills are not so good with magick to perform spells on your emperor without being heard, myself. I merely observed to ensure Zenos came in good faith." She offered Brackson a drink she pulled from a nearby table, water as it seemed. "I hold no resentment towards you, and I hope you none to me."

Martin nodded, "I appreciate your forgiveness, it is why I wanted to be honest with you. I cannot foster a friend if I keep secrets from you. I just needed an assurance to myself and my anxieties that you were a friend to be. We exist in an era where the future is so uncertain. Alliances and friendships are coming apart and the comfortable history is becoming an uncomfortable future. I act in the capacity of a sovereign who has had an empire so content with its present it expects this present age to last indefinitely. But the loss of Maharajah because of forced intervention has sent a shiver through the spine of the empire. The time of certainty is ending, but with the end of certainty is the beginning of a new age where we can charge ahead. What we stand to gain through action is far greater than what we stand to lose through inaction. What say you?"

Triporea wrote:

The woman spoke quietly to Brackson, "yes, I can see your earnest belief in your emperor. My own emperor charged me only to see the truth. My skills are not so good with magick to perform spells on your emperor without being heard, myself. I merely observed to ensure Zenos came in good faith." She offered Brackson a drink she pulled from a nearby table, water as it seemed. "I hold no resentment towards you, and I hope you none to me."

Martin nodded, "I appreciate your forgiveness, it is why I wanted to be honest with you. I cannot foster a friend if I keep secrets from you. I just needed an assurance to myself and my anxieties that you were a friend to be. We exist in an era where the future is so uncertain. Alliances and friendships are coming apart and the comfortable history is becoming an uncomfortable future. I act in the capacity of a sovereign who has had an empire so content with its present it expects this present age to last indefinitely. But the loss of Maharajah because of forced intervention has sent a shiver through the spine of the empire. The time of certainty is ending, but with the end of certainty is the beginning of a new age where we can charge ahead. What we stand to gain through action is far greater than what we stand to lose through inaction. What say you?"

Brackson took the water, looking it over as he responded, "No resentment here to you personally, seer. Following the orders of your Emperor is only the right thing for a servant to do. You were doing your job, as I was doing mine." Finally looking away from the water, he then gave her a glare, "Now I do sure hope this ain't poison, or else you'd really be breaching my trust here."

But, after just a moment to gauge her reaction, Brackson smiled and chuckled, revealing it was a joke, "Heh, not that I am actually worried about being poisoned here, that would be pretty obvious now wouldn't it? But nothing for me anyways. This ain't Instabull, we Rangians have an image to keep up when we're outside Zantium proper. So gonna have to handle the thirst later." He put the water back down on the table, leaning his head back, "You can probably tell that I'm on good terms with my Emperor. How about you, Court Witch? You know Martin personally at all, or is it just a job? Just curious if this was a mere assignment, or a more long term arrangement like I've got. Though I'd be surprised if you were quite as long term as I am."

Zenos sighed, nodding his head in understanding, "This is certainly an era of uncertainty that we are coming into. Everything is moving fast, old status quos are changing or dying. And I suppose that with how much longer lived your people are in comparison to me, it'll be even more apparent. So I can forgive the anxiety."

"But a time of change does not mean the change must be negative. Frankly, my Empire is well due some change." Zenos looked Martin in the eye as he continued, his tone carrying a hint of sorrow, "The last era of certainty, as you called it, carries a different meaning for Zantines. These last generations of Zantines have had one certainty above all; that we are decaying. Before it was dramatically, and with some glory attached. For more recent times, it was certain our once proud Empire would continue to shrink bit by bit, more and more just a husk of our great legacy. Once the greatest Empire of the Nebula, now a rump state. Too weak to take action, too fearful of losing what is left, so all we've been able to do is stand back. And yet still inaction for us has been just loss, slowly but certainly..."

Balling a hand into a fist, Zenos purged that sorrow, and replaced it with resolve, "So it is safe to say that your words are true. Inaction has gained nothing. The only ones that seems to work for are the Anubites. But this Union, and all that has happened recently gives me a chance to reinvigorate my people. So I say, Martin... Let's create a new age. Take this chance to break the complacency in both our Empires, and remind the galaxy why our two nations bear the name 'Empire' in the first place." He stepped up to Martin and held out a hand to the Hurvecht Emperor. It did look a little silly given the size difference. But not much more silly than Zenos shaking hands with a Taurus, he was used to it.

Iammelon wrote:

Brackson took the water, looking it over as he responded, "No resentment here to you personally, seer. Following the orders of your Emperor is only the right thing for a servant to do. You were doing your job, as I was doing mine." Finally looking away from the water, he then gave her a glare, "Now I do sure hope this ain't poison, or else you'd really be breaching my trust here."

But, after just a moment to gauge her reaction, Brackson smiled and chuckled, revealing it was a joke, "Heh, not that I am actually worried about being poisoned here, that would be pretty obvious now wouldn't it? But nothing for me anyways. This ain't Instabull, we Rangians have an image to keep up when we're outside Zantium proper. So gonna have to handle the thirst later." He put the water back down on the table, leaning his head back, "You can probably tell that I'm on good terms with my Emperor. How about you, Court Witch? You know Martin personally at all, or is it just a job? Just curious if this was a mere assignment, or a more long term arrangement like I've got. Though I'd be surprised if you were quite as long term as I am."

Zenos sighed, nodding his head in understanding, "This is certainly an era of uncertainty that we are coming into. Everything is moving fast, old status quos are changing or dying. And I suppose that with how much longer lived your people are in comparison to me, it'll be even more apparent. So I can forgive the anxiety."

"But a time of change does not mean the change must be negative. Frankly, my Empire is well due some change." Zenos looked Martin in the eye as he continued, his tone carrying a hint of sorrow, "The last era of certainty, as you called it, carries a different meaning for Zantines. These last generations of Zantines have had one certainty above all; that we are decaying. Before it was dramatically, and with some glory attached. For more recent times, it was certain our once proud Empire would continue to shrink bit by bit, more and more just a husk of our great legacy. Once the greatest Empire of the Nebula, now a rump state. Too weak to take action, too fearful of losing what is left, so all we've been able to do is stand back. And yet still inaction for us has been just loss, slowly but certainly..."

Balling a hand into a fist, Zenos purged that sorrow, and replaced it with resolve, "So it is safe to say that your words are true. Inaction has gained nothing. The only ones that seems to work for are the Anubites. But this Union, and all that has happened recently gives me a chance to reinvigorate my people. So I say, Martin... Let's create a new age. Take this chance to break the complacency in both our Empires, and remind the galaxy why our two nations bear the name 'Empire' in the first place." He stepped up to Martin and held out a hand to the Hurvecht Emperor. It did look a little silly given the size difference. But not much more silly than Zenos shaking hands with a Taurus, he was used to it.

She held a straight face and when he revealed his joke, she simply moved on. Brackson realised that of course she could read the truth from his lips already, she knew he was making a joke before he even revealed himself. So it was reckoned a person who already knew sarcasm was coming, or a joke was going to be told before it could even be completed, would naturally be very joyless. “My good sir, you shall find you are in quite safe hands here on Bezembay. And poison may be the weapon of a woman, and that goes double for a Witch I suppose.” She smiled a bit. “Yes, I am a retainer of the Emperor. I hold office and rank in the court in exchange for service to His Imperial Majesty. All Court Sorcerers are personally obligated to the Emperor. His Majesty has need for a few of us. But forgive me, I am The Court Sorcerer Margaret Haddington, Witch of Pfardenland. But there are five of us in total, there is The Wizard Michael Sullivan of Shipping Downs, The Wizard Edgar Jenkins of Emerald Hanger, the Witch Elizabeth Holmes of Cheshilt Valley, and the Wizard Edward Kelvin of Erweinz Folding. The Wizard Sullivan is His Majesty’s Lord Wizard, he sits on the Privy Council now. The rest of us serve various roles, as you might imagine. Though the Wizard Sullivan is here today.” She pointed at a well groomed middle aged Hurvecht in a suit, he blended in with the rest of the crowd of noblemen in stately suits and uniform. There was nothing about him that particularly denoted him as the chief wizard of the empire, but maybe that was the point. The Witch Pfardenland however wore a stately uniform, but with a unique robe over it. She looked nigh academic, almost like a university professor. Her scholarly robe worn over a suit was telling of her position.

Martin took the Emperor’s hand and smiled. “Good, then we have struck a covenant. Our Empire’s will strive to make this future ours.” Martin approached the center of the room and stood proudly, simply towering over the human emperor in size. “My good Zenos, will you submit to the covenant? Will you pledge yourself to the cause of the Brother-Empires? Will you do all you can to break the chains that ensnare you and march into the future?” Martin spoke in a stern and commanding tone. This must have been the rumours Zenos had heard, this Martin was much different than the one he had met some months prior on Minos.

Triporea wrote:

She held a straight face and when he revealed his joke, she simply moved on. Brackson realised that of course she could read the truth from his lips already, she knew he was making a joke before he even revealed himself. So it was reckoned a person who already knew sarcasm was coming, or a joke was going to be told before it could even be completed, would naturally be very joyless. “My good sir, you shall find you are in quite safe hands here on Bezembay. And poison may be the weapon of a woman, and that goes double for a Witch I suppose.” She smiled a bit. “Yes, I am a retainer of the Emperor. I hold office and rank in the court in exchange for service to His Imperial Majesty. All Court Sorcerers are personally obligated to the Emperor. His Majesty has need for a few of us. But forgive me, I am The Court Sorcerer Margaret Haddington, Witch of Pfardenland. But there are five of us in total, there is The Wizard Michael Sullivan of Shipping Downs, The Wizard Edgar Jenkins of Emerald Hanger, the Witch Elizabeth Holmes of Cheshilt Valley, and the Wizard Edward Kelvin of Erweinz Folding. The Wizard Sullivan is His Majesty’s Lord Wizard, he sits on the Privy Council now. The rest of us serve various roles, as you might imagine. Though the Wizard Sullivan is here today.” She pointed at a well groomed middle aged Hurvecht in a suit, he blended in with the rest of the crowd of noblemen in stately suits and uniform. There was nothing about him that particularly denoted him as the chief wizard of the empire, but maybe that was the point. The Witch Pfardenland however wore a stately uniform, but with a unique robe over it. She looked nigh academic, almost like a university professor. Her scholarly robe worn over a suit was telling of her position.

Martin took the Emperor’s hand and smiled. “Good, then we have struck a covenant. Our Empire’s will strive to make this future ours.” Martin approached the center of the room and stood proudly, simply towering over the human emperor in size. “My good Zenos, will you submit to the covenant? Will you pledge yourself to the cause of the Brother-Empires? Will you do all you can to break the chains that ensnare you and march into the future?” Martin spoke in a stern and commanding tone. This must have been the rumours Zenos had heard, this Martin was much different than the one he had met some months prior on Minos.

That thought hadn't come to Brackson's mind until this moment, though now in hindsight it should have been rather obvious to him. Minus one point for his joke, it seems. Not a total failure in his mind however, as he did get a smile in one roundabout way. "Witches are indeed famous for their poisons, so pays to be careful, eh? Even if I don't know too much about witches around these parts. All the same, pleasure to greet you properly, Court Sorcerer Margaret. To return the favor, I am Lord-Captain Brackson of the Rangian Vanguard. And before you ask, I do not have a last name. We Rangians surrender those, and only regain them upon retirement."

He looked back as she pointed out Sullivan, glacing at the Hurvecht, "He certainly blends in with the rest of the court. Not as willing for a Hurvecht to show magical prowess in public? Still, five mages on personal call for the Emperor. Seems somebody has decided it pays to be prepared. I would suppose that if you are the Truthseer, then the other four likely have other specializations. At least one I am sure is dedicated to counter other magical influences. What the others could be, can't say I would know. Never been my area of expertise. What are the other three wizards like?"

The rumors certainly rang true, Zenos could tell. He really did have to wonder what triggered this transformation in such a period of time, he had to admit something felt a bit off here. All the same, being towered over was not new for Zenos, but he did frown a bit at the mention of submitting to the Covenant, "The cause is one that is worthy, and I have promised my people to restore our glory. But before I can agree to anything in full, Martin, I must ask of you something. You are quite different from last we spoke. You have far more conviction about you, it is impressive. And yet such a change rarely comes out of nowhere, in my opinion. What has happened to push you down this path? I take my route because I must, but from where does your conviction arise?"

Iammelon wrote:

That thought hadn't come to Brackson's mind until this moment, though now in hindsight it should have been rather obvious to him. Minus one point for his joke, it seems. Not a total failure in his mind however, as he did get a smile in one roundabout way. "Witches are indeed famous for their poisons, so pays to be careful, eh? Even if I don't know too much about witches around these parts. All the same, pleasure to greet you properly, Court Sorcerer Margaret. To return the favor, I am Lord-Captain Brackson of the Rangian Vanguard. And before you ask, I do not have a last name. We Rangians surrender those, and only regain them upon retirement."

He looked back as she pointed out Sullivan, glacing at the Hurvecht, "He certainly blends in with the rest of the court. Not as willing for a Hurvecht to show magical prowess in public? Still, five mages on personal call for the Emperor. Seems somebody has decided it pays to be prepared. I would suppose that if you are the Truthseer, then the other four likely have other specializations. At least one I am sure is dedicated to counter other magical influences. What the others could be, can't say I would know. Never been my area of expertise. What are the other three wizards like?"

The rumors certainly rang true, Zenos could tell. He really did have to wonder what triggered this transformation in such a period of time, he had to admit something felt a bit off here. All the same, being towered over was not new for Zenos, but he did frown a bit at the mention of submitting to the Covenant, "The cause is one that is worthy, and I have promised my people to restore our glory. But before I can agree to anything in full, Martin, I must ask of you something. You are quite different from last we spoke. You have far more conviction about you, it is impressive. And yet such a change rarely comes out of nowhere, in my opinion. What has happened to push you down this path? I take my route because I must, but from where does your conviction arise?"

The witch nodded, "very ceremonial. To be surrendering names is something only the creach do in our society. And even then they only do it to take a clan name." She moved to sit in some nearby chairs. "If you do not own it now it is still yours, it is just being held by another. So you do still have a surname. Or at the very least there is a land you come from. I am the Witch of Pfardenland as you heard. It is a relatively small plain on the moon of Dernby. Just a village really, and barely that. Only thing my village was known or was growing rapeseed. Tell me captain, where do you come from?"

As she was speaking the rest of the room seemed to be relaxing as well, realising that Martin and Zenos were not occupied in a quick private word but rather a longer conversation. Indeed, some Bezannians even left the room and went out onto the balcony. Others were ordering tea and cakes be brought. The Witch Margaret nodded, "Oh no. Nothing like that, The Court Wizard simply has to serve a slightly different role to His Majesty than purely a sorcerer. The Wizard Sullivan is on the privy council, he must brush elbows with the other lords and ladies more than spend his time in his robes." But she quickly added, "though a fine sorcerer he still remains. The other sorcerers, yes. They are all academics like me. Wizard Sullivan is an expert duellist, he has a legendary sixty-six victories in magick duels. Never has he lost a duel, his voice is powerful and truly unique. I am a dedicated Truth-Seer of course. But the others are dedicated to their own styles. Wizard Sullivan is the master of the duellist's style, a more crude way to put it... he is a sorcerer-killer. Should any mage stand before him they are sure to be slain. The Wizard Jenkins is master of his so called "Boulder in the River" style, it is as you have said a dedicated anti magick style. The Wizard Jenkins is master of seeing the streams of magick other sorcerers create and he becomes the boulder in their river. The Witch Holmes has her "Flowering Fruit Tree" style, think of it as a medicinal magick, The Witch Holmes was a medical doctor before becoming a sorcerer. Wizard Kelvin is the master of the "Silk String" style." The Witch seemed to end her description of the other mages with this comment, abruptly seeming to cut herself off before describing this silk string style.

Martin peered down at the human and brought his head to the side. Allowing one of his eyes to gaze down at Zenos in full before returning to his more upright position. "My convictions are the result of the need for this empire to shake off its complacency. For two generations of Hurvecht this empire has been under the leadership of an empress. Empress Jessamine and Empress Shanalotte. Before them was the short reign of Henry IV, and before him was Empress Lyndsey. This empire has not seen an Emperor since the time of Jasper. I am Martin the First, and like Euhorn and Jasper I must rise to the call that makes the name Martin great. The Martinian Era marks when the Empire restored its prestige as a great power. For too long we have sat sidelined by empires like the Talmyrox and the Anubites and the Tordelians and the Dragons of Heord. But we are the tigers!" Martin's claw pointed to a portrait of Jasper on the wall at the end of his life, when he was older. He still carried a marshal staff but unlike portraits of when he was younger, he was covered in tattoos across his body. These tattoos became known as tiger stripes, and became a popular style of Hurvecht tattoos that many got even to this day. "It is the Empire's destiny to bridge East and West. As I speak ships are crossing the maelstrom at the center of the universe. The dreams and ambitions of an entire generation of Bezannians." Martin looked back to Zenos. "My people give me strength."

L empire wrote:

The Lord Knight slowly hovered down, his wings waving in the air, as his feet touched the ground and he looked around. His stature towered over every single person there, his presence was like a glow of the sun over an asteroid, and his soul, his spirit, blared like a siren with light and noise, to anyone who could listen into it. His eyes gazed upon the men in front of him, and upon the fortress, which lay in front of him, now in ruins. He took a deep breath and approached it, entering through its decimated entrance. He looked around and spoke, his voice coming out as a mixture of three. One a commanding masculine voice, the other a femine angelic voice, and the last the voice of an old wise man. The three mixed together, into a symphony of Angels or…Demons, with how one would take it.

“I demand your surrender, you shall lay down your arms and submit yourself to Gabriels will and to his Children, and I am his will. If you surrender I shall have mercy upon the, but if you do not, your existence will be anathema, and I will strike your soul down, into the gnashing pit, where their will be only darkness and pain, for aeons and aeons evermore.” He said, his eyes falling upon any terrified survivors, as his wings again shot out, becoming more like blades and knives as he looked around, his hands glowing with silver and gold.

With suis

Oh Gabriel this sucked. She thought to herself, as she tried to cool herself down by taking a fan from her bag she bad brought with her. The dry and dusty atmosphere, combined with the oppressive heat, made her feel like she was going to shrivel up and collapse. But she knew again, that would be a sign of…weakness, she had to take command of her army, and show her strength. She quickly shouted. “Cypherians, quickly reinforce the Lord Regent.” Several platoons in front of her immediately saluted and stormed forward, their rifles light as they rushed forward in their bizarre but neatly done colored uniforms. She then turned towards Otun, her pale white dress, which covered her form, except her shoulders which were left exposed, as she walked toward him, the heeled boots she was wearing, giving her a solid five inches of height as she stepped towards him. “So you must Otun, the uncle of Eftayla, I have heard so much about.” she said, approaching him, and looking him in his eyes.

“I am Queen Suis Boanne, of the Cypherian Empire, member state of the Sanctum Confederalis, and it is a pleasure to meet you.” She said, her voice sweet but authoritative, as she looked upon him, and gave him a smile. “There is much to discuss, but I congratulate you on your victory.” she said, the smile slightly faltering, due to the intense heat, she felt, as the sun beat down upon her.

Cast by Fire:

Part 43: Ostan Hallah, Fortress of the County Ostanakar

Otun now knew what befit a Queen of the unfamiliar species he saw before him; a woman of tall stature, impeccable beauty, and eloquence in speech. He fell to one knee, a fist pressed to his dented breastplate in salute to the sovereign standing before him. He however was shocked to hear himself referred to as Eftalya's Uncle, to be likened to such a miserable man brought forward some amusement from Otun, but now was not a time to be amused. He rose to his feet and spoke in basic, "Your grace, you mistake me For Natun'Kataan, I am Otun'Hataar, Baron of Ostan'haktan, vassal to Count Harai'Ibn Harai..." He turned his head to his left and saw the miserable old sod approaching with a limp, battered and beaten in battle. His turban covered his face, and when he pulled down his face covering, it revealed a bloody bruise on right cheek. With him, came an entourage of likely Sakirai, all dusty, bloody, and torn from battle, "... here he is. This is Natun."

"What is the meaning of this?" The old lord shouted in Sakiri, he looked to Eftalya and Harai, beside one another but failing to look Natun in the eye. "Eftalya who are these.... things you have brought?" This brought forth the young girl's ire, "You will adress my liege lady as Queen Suis Boanne!"

"...liege? Queen? What nonsense have you gotten into? Have you forsaken your familial oath to me? Your own uncle? Look upon those sands!" He shouted, raising a Dynastar-adorned gauntlet and pointing a finger at the crimson sands, littered with bodies. "This is the price I have paid to grant your husband back his lands, and now you have forsaken me? You forsake Sakir!" The old Lord lurched forward in pain, those present could observe in plain sight, where a mace had struck his abdomen, deforming his lamellar cuirasse. From his barren chapped lips, he coughed violently, spurting drops of blood upon the sands below him. Eftalya let go of Harai and rushed to help him, but Natun shoved her away with one arm and compose himself, and his anger.

"You are nothing! I will not have my men die any longer for this... bitch and her witch of an overlord!" He gave Lord Knight a deathly stare and feared nothing, for he was close to death anyway.

"We are Sons of Sakir, we do not bow for false Gods, we do not abandon our oaths." His Sakirai near him, those which Otun gathered, now numbered over a thousand near the landing ships, and they closed their formation into a densely packed Tericho of Spears, Axes, Dynasts, Slug Throwers, and Dynastar Armor.

Queen Suise saw tears welling up in the sweet eyes of Eftalya, who ran back to the safety of her husband, who reached for his Dynast, and with what knowledge he could muster of Basic, she heard him mutter, "They mean to do battle..." He didn't dare look upon Lord Knight, "Spare mine brothers, please..."

Otun realized the gravity of the situation and called for what men still loyal to him remained... no more than fifty of the one hundred who survived the initial siege of the Fortress Ostan'Hallah, which was now in ruins. He rallied them in front of Eftalya and Harai, loyal only to his liege lord and lady. Unsheathing Hataaratai, his family sword for the first time in over a month, he gripped it firmly in resolving to fight the very men that fought alongside him.

Otun looked to Suise, still exposed to an open arch of fire from the Tericho formation, "Lady- My Queen, Get behind my men, their armor will shield you." He thought it so unusual to look upon a woman he had only known for but a few minutes as his own Queen, but so it was if Eftalya and Harai had truly renounced their oaths to Natun.

And so Sakir in its perpetual sunset over the skies of Guk'tar-Khur shown over the impossible standoff between three armies and only a thousand brave sons of Sakir, with punishing glory. Those who could not reach the standoff in time, looked on at their Lord and their brothers in arms as they stood in formation, ready to fight. With sweat, dreading to see what would come of it.

Iammelon wrote:

Tenkan and Iulia watched Nia come in, and smiled as they saw her having fun. Tenkan however angled himself to float next to her and speak up, having to raise his voice to be heard above the sounds of the air, "Flapping not needed! Let air carry, do not fight! Tail important, use to steer! Example!" He demonstrated with his arms out flat, but using his tail to direct himself around the tube, in a sort of very deliberate gliding. The use of the tube for training became more apparent now, as this was a way that Watrike droptroopers trained with gliding suits.
Meanwhile, last to enter, Cendri had gotten through the entrance into the tube, and leaped in. He joined the rest, and now all four of the Watrike were flying. It was quite the fun experience, and even serious Iulia couldn't quite help but stick her tongue out to enjoy it for a little bit. Cendri glided himself over towards Nia and looked to her, "Fun, yes? Fun to do tricks too. Team formation, join in!" With that, Cendri directed the others into position, and grabbing their hands he quickly made a sort of triangle formation with himself, Iulia, and Tenkan, before gracefully breaking it off. Then Cendri offered out his hands for Nia to join in on one such trick.

Nia was almost in a haze after letting herself go and stopping to flap her arms. This felt like a magical dream and for the first time in ages she felt truly free. The peculiar new trike followed suit reaching for Cendri's hand to complete the formation "Yes, very, very, very fun... ...thank!" letting a very discreet tear that flew upwards making her chuckle as she followed instructions to complete the tricks with her new friends in what appeared to be finally her new wonderful home.

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Iammelon wrote:

Tarral gave an amused smirk, "First I've heard of Cave Dragons having passion for something other than smithing. Didn't think those went together." She got a bit more serious after that, "As for your wings, we do have doctors who can look at that, some specialists in wing-care. Needed more often than you'd think..." And that was when Tarral paused, noticing Ymira chewing the plate. And then the sisterly struggle began, with Tarral only able to sit back and watch in some embarrassment at Ymira's rather targeted taunting. It got the attention of everyone else as well, including the Chef and the two Combat Drakes having their own meal off on the side. The Chef was just amused by the entire display, and gave an expecting look over at the two warriors. They noticed, sighed, and then got up to go grab Ymira before she got into too much trouble. Otherwise the Grand Drake might punish them for being in a place to help and not doing anything. The Chef meanwhile hummed, took the compliment where it stood, and got back to his kitchen.
As that calmed down and the Combat Drakes went to locate the younger Valx sister, Tarral just chuckled at Myrsa's new meek demeanor, and leaned in to comment, "Seems sisters are the same, even across planets. I remember doing such things with my own elder sister, Azmelti. She got revenge plenty as well. Reminds me of home. Perhaps we should visit my home after we see to treating your wings. Given your ambitions, you'd have to meet my family eventually after all."

Tyfrondor retracted his head a bit as Sarxaxa got a bit too close for his personal comfort, as he still remembered how she had acted when first seeing his son. He decided not to comment on it however, and think on her plan. It had potential, but he could iterate on the plan, "Hm, we can worry about any such plans for Shyr and takeovers for later, better to focus on getting the deeds back as that was what I promised first and foremost. Now as for you idea, I see no reason to send just a few Watrike. The Magma Legion are veterans of that 'idiotic' war that your sister waged upon my lands," he said with as a small reminder of who those Excave forces had worked for. "That Legion has some members I am sure would be interested in a proper cultural exchange, and by sending along a number of non-Watrike, especially Humans and Human-Ghashyr hybrids, any worries of spies will be directed towards those more expected to be spies. Leaving a few implanted Watrike agents to go and handle the break in. I have a few in mind who can accomplish the goal. After that, we can then see about your Maurish plan, Sar'ksasa. Razethorne, I'll entrust you to set this up."
Off to the side, Razethorne nodded his head, "Very well, father. I'll prepare both the proposal for the cultural exchange and prepare some of the best Watrike we have. I am sure Snara will enjoy a chance to throw off her 'bad one' label after defying her mandatory vacation." With that, Razethorne walked off, with Tyfrondor sighing at the mention of the label one of their agents had garnered.

Realizing the Grand Drake felt strongly about that old war Sarxaxa muttered a bit miffed "The idiotic war was Myrsa's idea, not mine..." pouting in a rather immature manner as Tyfrondor kept on talking. As the mighty goldenscale monarch finished and Razethorne was about to take his leave, the young white dragoness clapped her paws to bring attention back to her "One more thing my Saresh! You realize that I must be introduced to the good clans of Heord somehow and I cannot do it alone, it's improper! ..so I wonder if you my Saresh would accompany me to the ceremonial dragon ball, or perhaps your son? I would be glad with either!" She said sporting a maurish grin and bowing with her front leg while extending her wings before Tyfrondor.

Ymira did not fight back at all, enjoying being carried by the warriors like a kitten and bearing a dumb smile on her face "Weeee ..oh! Take me to my mom, not my crazy sister please." As she was dragged away, Myrsa sighed in relief and tried regaining her composure to salvage the discussion with Tarral "Yeah, sisters are annoyingly adorable creatures ...but I'd prefer if I first got a wing-over before meeting your parents. My scales need polishing and I will have to at least dye them my natural color ...wouldn't want your family to think I'm some ghost, hehe ..heh" she thought a bit to herself then bumped the table with her paw "No, I'll meet them right away! I used to be a mighty warlord. If I could do it in the avatar body, I sure can do it in my true body! I am Miraak'sana Katak'Sar, fireborn!" She snorted some smoke from her nostrils, making clear her determination "Let's go Tarral!"

L empire wrote:

Perspective of The Lord Knight

The Lord Knights heartbeat, one…two…three times. His ears perked as the flow of Information coming to him in Nanoseconds entered his skull, and was processed by his ancient mind. He saw upon the battlefield … these humans, raise there rifles in rage against the Children, planning to lay them low. These other humans, had jumped to their defense, blocking the Queen of the Cypherians, he could see the Queen look shocked, almost dismayed and fearful. He could see Cypherian soldiers try to move into position, before death was dished out upon their sovereign. Kryss neural atomizers had begun to spin, and Dynas warriors had begun to reinforce the positions. All the while He could feel the hateful sun glaring down upon them…and especially him, it glared like no other, dug deep into his soul, why was it so hateful, why did it seem to stand against him. He knew nought but before he realized a single millisecond had passed.

He needed to act quickly, to show these humans the might of Gabriel and his children, to put down their notions of superiority…for only the Children can inherit the mantle that was left behind. Not them, not this…heathenic species of squabbling semi apes. So in another Nanosecond, the Lord Knight, delved deep into his soul, he poured and searched through ancient energies that were blessed upon him by his creator. He pulled the energies together, silver light, which blinded anyone who directly looked him, causing many to look away coursed around him. Another millisecond passed. He looked down upon the armies assembled…He could hear another human, the man known as Harai begging for mercy upon his supposed brothers. The Queen had a fondness for him and his wife. He would not slay this army with blade and smite. He would strangle the life out of them, and give them a chance to surrender, another millisecond.

As the humans looked to be ready to pull there triggers, they froze. They…couldn’t…they couldn’t move, there eyes seemed to be locked in place, and seemingly the only things that could move was the beating of the heart, and breathing of the lungs. Every human that opposed Otun, Harai, Eftayla and Suis, could only watch as the Lord Knight hovered down, and stood right in front of Natun. Another millisecond. The Lord Knight reached out and would allow Natun to speak, while the rest of his body remained frozen, as the Lord Knight bellowed out, with a tone of a thousand voices, which bounced and echoed off the mountains and the dunes and the sands and seemingly reverberated through time itself. “You have tried to draw the blood of the Children of Gabriel…this is a crime I usually not let stand.” he said, as from his hand, a silver blade, almost ten feet long in length, and four feed wide would appear, almost out of myst, golden flames surrounding it, as he put it on Natuns neck. “But do to the Queens fondness of Mortals known as Eftayla and Harai…I will allow you and your army to surrender.” he said, he reached his hand out, and closed his palm.

The opposing army, of a thousand men, could feel their hearts, begin to beat slower…and slower, almost coming to a stop, and in some cases coming to a stop. Natun was not exempt from this, as the Lord Knight stared down at the man. Looking to hear his response. The Lords Knights wings shot out, a silver barricade surrounded him and the thousand man army, it was a wall of pure light, that people could only make out silhouettes of the men, and the full form of the Lord Knight. “Do you surrender…” asked the Lord Knight danger leaking off of every syllable.

Suis Perspective.

Suis had just gone through a roller coaster of emotions that had coursed through her body, in a few seconds. First she had a pleasant meeting with this quite handsome man, known as Otun. “My apologies, I had assumed people as lovely as Harai and Eftayla would of served someone as…charming as you.” she said beckoning for the soldier to stand. She was then…greeted by a not so handsome looking man. Actually quite ugly, bleeding man…who more looked like a Mutt, but thats besides the point. This man hunched himself over towards her.

He then proceeded to insult her, push away Eftayla which did nothing but piss her off, because EFTAYLA WAS PREGNANT. She then immediately backed away, in fear, as the humans pulled there weapons. She almost instinctively jumped into Otuns arms for protection, like a maid of legend on this planet. She then saw almost as quickly the fight begin, it end, as the Lord Knight descended from above, and it but a second, formed around them a protective wall, and had caused the opposing army to freeze.

She was dumb founded, hot, scared, confused, worried and it showed on her face. She was nervous and anxious, and the sun was just so damn hot. She would almost fall over in Otuns arms, before vomiting profusely onto the desert ground. Which from the background seemed to get a laugh out of the Kryss Arch Scientific Bishop, which had also tailed the Kryss army, like the Queen did with hers. She would vomit again, a second time, the stress getting to her as she almost coughed up a lung, sand coughing from her throat, and coming out of her mouth, before she looked at Otun and realized the situation she was in. “My dear, I am sorry, I didn't mean to put you in this situation.” she said, flustered with embarrasment.

Cast by Fire:

Part 44: Ostan-Hallah, County of Ostanakar
As the Lord Knight's stranglehold over the lives of Natun and his Sakirai strengthened, the attacks made against him from above, from the cursed red star intensified as Sakir's burning hatred shown in the sky with streaks of vibrant colors tracing across the sky. The radiation storm increased in intensity, and those who would not be equipped with the proper clothing or protective equipment began to feel a slight burning sensation upon their skin.

Harai unwrapped his turban and gave it to Eftalya to cover her exposed pale skin, a trademark of the people of Nocte-Khur who lived in perpetual night. Otun undid his own and extended it to Queen Suise, "This is made of local plant fibers, it will protect you from Sakir's rays. Cover yourself lest you be burnt." He looked to the unusually well dressed Cypherian army behind him in all their finery, "Your soldiers will die out here within two hours if they do not find shelter, or the proper clothing..." He looked then to Natun and the scene unfolding before him. The more than twenty thousand Sakirai still positioned around the fortress still watched on in awe, some kneeling in prayer, others watching grimly as The Lord Knight extinguished their brothers before them.

Natun took no time to think about his response, for his death meant nothing to him but eternal servitude in the Afterlife to Sakir, an afterlife he looked forward to. He mustered what strength he could to speak, "I do not bow before false Gods... nor do I tolerate the betrayal of loyalty." And with one last breath he mustered enough strength to spit in the direction of Lord Knight. He and those who would remain loyal to him to the end slowly went limp in the embrace of Lord Knight...

Sakir:
The deity looked on with absolute contempt at the foreign divine presence, who had the gall to take the lives of the sworn the Sons of Sakir. For this, Sakir exacted its revenge, for amidst constant attacks repelled by the Lord Knight, none would be so powerful as that of the Heavenly Host of Azer-Alor. Billions upon billions of souls, Slaves, Sakirai, Lords, Ladies, and Prawns lead by the Sakais and Prawnic Queens of the past; by the decree of Sakir, launched a spiritual attack on Lord Knight all at once, an attack which would see his power here wain significantly.

Sakiris wrote:

Cast by Fire:

Part 44: Ostan-Hallah, County of Ostanakar
As the Lord Knight's stranglehold over the lives of Natun and his Sakirai strengthened, the attacks made against him from above, from the cursed red star intensified as Sakir's burning hatred shown in the sky with streaks of vibrant colors tracing across the sky. The radiation storm increased in intensity, and those who would not be equipped with the proper clothing or protective equipment began to feel a slight burning sensation upon their skin.

Harai unwrapped his turban and gave it to Eftalya to cover her exposed pale skin, a trademark of the people of Nocte-Khur who lived in perpetual night. Otun undid his own and extended it to Queen Suise, "This is made of local plant fibers, it will protect you from Sakir's rays. Cover yourself lest you be burnt." He looked to the unusually well dressed Cypherian army behind him in all their finery, "Your soldiers will die out here within two hours if they do not find shelter, or the proper clothing..." He looked then to Natun and the scene unfolding before him. The more than twenty thousand Sakirai still positioned around the fortress still watched on in awe, some kneeling in prayer, others watching grimly as The Lord Knight extinguished their brothers before them.

Natun took no time to think about his response, for his death meant nothing to him but eternal servitude in the Afterlife to Sakir, an afterlife he looked forward to. He mustered what strength he could to speak, "I do not bow before false Gods... nor do I tolerate the betrayal of loyalty." And with one last breath he mustered enough strength to spit in the direction of Lord Knight. He and those who would remain loyal to him to the end slowly went limp in the embrace of Lord Knight...

Sakir:
The deity looked on with absolute contempt at the foreign divine presence, who had the gall to take the lives of the sworn the Sons of Sakir. For this, Sakir exacted its revenge, for amidst constant attacks repelled by the Lord Knight, none would be so powerful as that of the Heavenly Host of Azer-Alor. Billions upon billions of souls, Slaves, Sakirai, Lords, Ladies, and Prawns lead by the Sakais and Prawnic Queens of the past; by the decree of Sakir, launched a spiritual attack on Lord Knight all at once, an attack which would see his power here wain significantly.

The Lord Knight

The Lord Knight hovered above them all, his heartbeat and palpitations rang out, bouncing across time and space. The Divine Host of the Lord Knight, wrang triumphant his wings flapped. He felt the souls leave the men's bodies, he did not feel anger towards them outside of there assault against the children, so as he looked pittily down upon them, as there corpses fell. He felt alien in this world, his form angelic, but off putting, to perfect, his immaculate form seemed to Divine. As his form hovered, he did not prepare for a sudden attack from the Divinations from above. They struck against him like a hammer striking against an anvil. He did not collapse but he became cataonic, hovering there, his eyes turning a dark black. His form was standing still and his chest had fallen silent. But his mind, in the bounds of higher realms, where his soul stretched across them, and he was in the fight for his life. His swords weaved like lighting through strikes of pure light and warring souls coming to him. He moved like a mad man, across from this vast plain of darkness, stood the heavenly gates of Sakir, which struck against him, as they waged a war of spiritual and psychic proportions. He was getting exhausted, as the armies of Sakir plunged towards him, and as a spear of light was about to pierce him, and Sakir victory was to be secured. Sakir felt something…something ancient, primordial and utterly unfathomable and terrifying reached out. Only a single sentence spoke out, and the power of things even more Primordial and Ancient then the Lord Knight, that its full power rebuked the host of Sakir. “I still have plans for him, your Justice shall be denied.” and with put a single sentence, the host of Sakir were blasted back, the gates closed, and the Lord Knights defense sealed. The Lord Knight stood upon the spiritual realm astonished, as his form returned back to the material realm his eyes returning to there normal white, as he almost stumbled to the ground, but recollected himself, landing elegantly to the ground but looking stunned. He coughed up into his hand a bit of glittering gold blood, and then turned back to stare at the children and the humans, before looking back to the sky and muttering with a single word. “Father…”

With Suis

As the sun beat down around them. It’s sweltering heat only increased and she could barely stay conscious as she coughed up the rough sand, as it got into her gills, causing her to almost start to struggle to breath. She quickly grabbed ahold of the cloth being handed to her and wrapped it around herself. To protect herself from the sun. She looked back to her assembled army, and could see them sweltering, sweat drenching there standard gear. Victory had been won on this day, but it did seem at least for the Cypherians, as she had noticed her cousins were not nearly suffering as badly. “Soldiers of the Empire, return to your vessels…we are not yet prepared for movements yet. Wait for my signal then we will return.” she said, as she coughed up again, more sand from her mouth. It was really not effecting her well, especially sense she wore a dress which exposed her gills. And it wasn’t like beach sand, it was rough, and caused her throat to become sore. As the sun beat down the heat would only fill her more and she felt she was almost ready to pass out. She looked at Otun. “Do you have any more of that..for my soldiers.” she said her voice started to get coarse and rough, as she finally told Otun. “Why do you have two faces?” before unceremoniously passing out in his arms.

With the Kryss

Victory WAS THERES, SCIENTIFIC ACHIEVEMENTS SHALL BE REAPED FROM THIS WORLD. THESE HUMANS HAD AN ODD SIMILARITY TO THE WHITE DEVILS THEY OFTEN HAD TO DEAL WITH. Thus the Arch Patriarch strode forward, a hymnal drone whirring behind him blaring out freakishly loud music, which could almost deafen someone, as he spread Holy Oils across the ground and sanctified them with, the Sacrament of Chemicals, as he spread Holy Chemicals upon the ground as he walked forward in his procession, before reaching the outer wall of the facility right by the Lord Knight. Standing at almost eight feet in height, the towering Rat Scientist Arch Bishop, would speak in a hoarse, raspy and horrific voice. Shouting a mad Sermon about how Gabriel shall deliver this world from Ignorance Demons and that blessed Angels of Rationalism shall descend upon the unquenched THRALLS, AND TEACH THEM IN THE ACADEMIC WAYS, AND THAT THEY SHALL BE INDUCTED INTO THE GREAT SCIENTIFIC HOLY STRUGGLE, TO RECLAIM THE KRYSS HOMEWORLD FROM THE HORRORS THAT ARE SPAWNED ON IT. AND THAT ON THIS DAY, HOLY GROUND HAS BEEN DELIVERED TO THE UNKNOWABLE MASSES OF SEETHING HEATHENERY AND THAT SCIENCE SHALL DELIVER US ALL TO A GRANDER FUTURE, AND THAT BLESSED SCIENCE SHALL FORGE A BRIGHT FUTURE WHERE DEMONIC IRRATIONALITY IS BANISHED!

The Sermon was very long and very ranty, the Kryss seemed to be praising it, but the Cypherians, The Dynas, the Lord Knight and especially the humans were just very uncomfortable, as they watched the Kryss ArchBishop deliver his rabid sermon.

Triporea wrote:

"That sounds idyllic. I grew up in a small cottage near the hills. My family were rabbit farmers and beekeepers. We kept a large family of rabbits to sell to the village and used the honey to make wax and all sorts of other things. My mother and father were going to give the farm to my sister and have me marry me off to the son of our village's councillor. But then the local lord and a strange man came to the village one day. He came with a small retinue of his guard and some clerks. Our councillor announced that all the villagers were to assemble for a ceremony welcoming his friend to the shire. His friend was announced as Knight Caterham of Jonsby. Though he never explained why he came to the village. We were then surveyed, the whole town by this knight. Eventually he selected a group of teenagers, myself included and told us he was a retainer for the Wizard Sullivan. That the wizard was a guest of the lord's. We were taken to the manor to meet this wizard. He chose me to be his apprentice and sent the others away with a letter to my family and a sum of three arcalite coins. He took me into his care and we left that evening for Bezembay." She kept her story short once she reached that point. "And that's how I began my journey to becoming a witch."

She listened to his assessments of each of their various styles and commented in return, "Well all Bezannian magick is voice based. We learned all we did from Lea Odarin mages. Their runic magick has enabled us to learn how to cast with our voice. No hands or drawings needed, it takes the correct pitch and vocalisation to cast. Not just anyone can learn Tur-Leigear. It takes a long time just to find your voice and after that it takes even longer to learn the correct pronunciations to get a good cast. If you would be willing, I'd love to demonstrate!" She said enthusiastically. But as he commented on the silk string style, she shook her head vehemently. "Oh no, no no. The Silk String style is not the tool of an assassin. And the emperor has no need of a personal assassin in his court. It is just for other purposes. It is a particular style I am not very familiar with, so I cannot comment much on it."

Martin held his head up high, "It is Bezannia's destiny to cross east and west! If the east cannot support our imperial needs then the west will!" He paused his enthusiastic proclamations to listen to Zenos' story. "Your younger brother is truly a warrior fit for a crown. Your empire slowly slipping away from you, your brother dedicating his life to the sword far north, and both of us here. Sitting in this moment." Martin nodded slowly, "both of us must act now. Bezannia has a horizon ahead of it and Zantine needs to find its horizon too." Martin clenched his fists and held them up, "join me Zenos. Allow our empires to remind the east the powers we wield. Bezannia needs allies so the whole east does not think they can turn against us. And Zantine needs a powerful friend to help dust off its past. Consider it an investment." Martin said as he walked to the window and approached a small telescope stand. Martin gestured to it. "If I can draw your attention to the harbour down below. You'll see there are five ships departing about now. Each are loaded with a generous investment of wealth for your empire. Not just money and arcalite, but a great many treasures your nation may make use of. A variety of interesting things we have been working on, as well as some choice secrets we kept from the civil war. I trust your empire can seize this investment and use it wisely." Martin swaggered away, "with the embassy established on Instabull I am comfortable sending a staff of attachés to advise your government further. But I believe the largest prize I can offer is this." Martin said as he turned on his heels. "The shipyards of Nemal are currently awaiting a new project. I can foresee their drydocks being used to lay down some ships bearing the flag of Zantine."

"Picked up by a knight, huh? Quite the intense job interview, without knowing what exactly you were getting picked out for. And yet, not all too dissimilar to how I ended up in my position." Brackson thought back to a time he had mostly forgotten, to exchange his own brief story. "I wasn't randomly selected, my father offered me up to the Rangian Vanguard, as is tradition for many households on Minos that seek favor and continued good graces. I became aware of this fact when one day a pair of men arrived at my family's manor. One was an older Taurus, wearing armor quite like mine, and the other was a Human doctor. The Vanguard among them introduced himself as Instructor Arlangius, and he was perhaps a bit too old for active service. But the old man had enough life left in him to train a new more generations of Vanguard, and I had the possibility of being one of them. Of course, the doctor was there to make sure I was healthy and suitable, and Arlangius was there because he trusted his gut more than anything. No health complications to be found, and the old man felt I had potential. Just like that, I ended up a ship bound for Instabull. Turned out well enough, I'd say."

He gave a small nod, "Right, the Cuthians are pretty similar, although I don't believe Pundramancy is quite as... elegant with its wordplay. Far more to do with the words, twisted as they are, rather than pitch or tone. And as I avoid Pundramancers like the plague, for very good reason, means I've never heard purely vocalized magic before. Ialao Druids are all about hand signs, Anubites love their staves and mystical crystals, and so on." Brackson then rubbed the back of his head in slight embarrassment, "Right, right, sorry. Suppose my job description leans me into naturally assuming such applications. Understandable that you cannot be familiar with every style of magic, that's how specialists work after all. Suppose the wider knowledge is best left for Sullivan. Still!" He clapped his hands and smiled, "If you're still willing to demonstrate, I'd love to see it. Or hear it, I suppose!"

"Investment, huh? Guess that's one way to look at it, and you're hardly wrong," Zenos commented as he walked over towards the stand. He looked at the telescope, and looked where Martin was referring to. While looking upon the ships, Zenos made a murmur of interest, "Large vessels. Those ain't standard cargo freighters, and I can tell from that you aren't lying about having more than just money aboard. And even if it was just arcalite, I could make great use of that. If there is one thing I can be thankful about in regards to my father's policies, it was in finances. He made great strides in purging the corruption from our ranks, which means I can apply these investments of yours without worry of corrupt administrators or greedy nobles getting in the way." He then stepped back from the telescope, looking over at Martin, "Shipyards, now that's something else I could really use. Zantium's naval power has been far weaker since we lost Avalantus and its mighty dockyards, and we can hardly rely on Proscore's great orbital drydocks either for major projects. They aren't precisely friendly to us. Instabull isn't lacking, but its limited in comparison to our greatest days. So you're not wrong, that is the greatest prize. Shipyards can't be built overnight, after all. But with both those rather generous offers in mind, I am curious what you expect from the Zantine Empire in return? Friendship is one thing, but typically an investment comes with the expectation of being paid back in kind."