With the mood ruined for the rest of the night, Gabriel took his time poring over the reports from the mission…and, for a change, the profiles of those who had manufactured them.
<table width="630">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Rank
</td>
<td width="116">
Name/Age/Sex
</td>
<td width="80">
Ethnicity
</td>
<td width="268">
Status
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Captain
</td>
<td width="116">
Furion Rydell
(38/M)
</td>
<td width="80">
Caucasian
</td>
<td width="268">
Fafnir (19 years)
Wing Commander One (9 years)
Captain (10 years [LCSF Aegis])
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Fafnir
(Wing Commander)
</td>
<td width="116">
Donivan Parker
(52/M)
</td>
<td width="80">
Hispanic
</td>
<td width="268">
Fafnir (24 years)
Wing Commander Two (15 years)
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Fafnir
</td>
<td width="116">
Ravan Damien
(35/F)
</td>
<td width="80">
Asian
</td>
<td width="268">
Fafnir (15 years)
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Fafnir
</td>
<td width="116">
Corbin D’Shay
(37/M)
</td>
<td width="80">
Black
</td>
<td width="268">
Fafnir (14 years)
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Then, of course, were the names of those who were considered ‘victims’ or ‘targets’ of the mission.
<table width="630">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Rank
</td>
<td width="116">
Name/Age/Sex
</td>
<td width="80">
Ethnicity
</td>
<td width="268">
Status
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Mediator
</td>
<td width="116">
Gabriel Lugios
(32/M)
</td>
<td width="80">
Caucasian
</td>
<td width="268">
Mediator (12 years)
High Negotiator (4 years)
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Fafnir
</td>
<td width="116">
Issak Noardin
(29/M)
</td>
<td width="80">
Middle
Eastern
</td>
<td width="268">
Fafnir (8 years)
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Mediator
(Trainee)
</td>
<td width="116">
Ren Nibasai
(28/F)
</td>
<td width="80">
Middle
Eastern
</td>
<td width="268">
No status
Formerly: Knight-Fafnir (9 years)
Wing Commander One (7 years)
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="166">
Knight-Cadet
</td>
<td width="116">
Setharion Rydell
(17/M)
</td>
<td width="80">
Caucasian
</td>
<td width="268">
No status
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
It hadn’t escaped the mediator’s notice that Ren and Furion had both entered into the division straight out of boot-camp, and had become Wing Commanders within two years of arriving, although Furion had already been Captain for a minute when Ren signed-on. He rubbed his chin curiously, “Captains are typically responsible for scouting talent for special agencies. I guess Captain Rydell would’ve been the one to find and recruit her. And this Wing Commander guy was there when shit went south with Kitez 22 years ago…”
It took well into the early hours of the morning to sift through and assess what each Fafnir Knight had seen on that ship, but it was the Captain’s perspective that was the most concerning. Every inch of corridor that the lower-ranks had seen looked normal, just…devoid of personnel, likely having vacated after the alarms were signaled. The Captain, however, was stuck with the unenviable task of wading through the things that had likely set-off the alarm in the first place, as it had already been triggered before the Fafnir arrived on scene.
“Whatever got into Ianori in that rift…” Gabriel said to himself, pausing on a moment where Furion had a clear view of the man’s new face, “…It’s evil.”
Rap tap tap…
He lifted his head; someone had knocked on his door. He checked his HUD for the time; it was 02:41am, “Who on Hadira would be up this late at my door? Xanarken would never bother knocking…he hardly warns me as it is.” He wondered as he got up and walked over. When he clicked the side-panel to see the image of who was there, he was only half-surprised that it was… “Seth..?”
The teen looked worried but sheepish, “Sorry, Mr. Gabriel…I…couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe…you wouldn’t be able to either.”
Gabriel shook his head, but then stepped out of the way and gestured in. He watched Seth pass in front of him and then let the door slide shut again, “Nightmares still?”
“Yeah…” He answered, and turned around as he backed into one of the two chairs at the small table, “Every time I close my eyes, I can see Mr. Ianori…trying to come through that wall at us…” He could see that same moment right then in his mind’s eye, and shuddered, “…I know you weren’t awake for it, but…I didn’t know who else to go to.”
“Yeah, I’m curious why you didn’t go look for your brother.”
“Furion is burning the midnight-oil with the Eidolon,” Seth answered, “Preparing for tomorrow… Er…later today?”
“I take your meaning.” Gabriel went back to sit on the bed, one leg dangling off the side as the other curled-up under him, and he crossed his arms, “How’s the back of your head? I know you said it wasn’t as bad as mine, but you still bled-out.”
“Oh…I have some stitches, but I’m okay.” The teen explained, lifting his right hand to touch at the one side, feeling the thickness of those fibers where they were different from his hair, “What about you?”
“…Getting there. Doesn’t hurt if left alone, but…hard to sleep. Can’t get comfortable.”
“Yeah…”
“Xanarken gave me the final report from the rescue mission, and I saw everything I missed… More than that, honestly… More than I would’ve wanted.” Gabriel continued, “Trying to explain what happened is going to take a lot of work. The words ‘we have no idea’ will be doing a lot of heavy-lifting tomorrow.”
“What happened to Mr. Ianori?” Seth asked, his brow furrowed with despair, “I’ve been trying to process what I saw at the end, when my brother and the others finally got to us… They had to fight through him to get the door open. Whatever it was, it was enough that – for the first time in…well, ever, as far as I’m aware – a Fafnir was left behind on purpose.”
“I have no idea. Whatever yanked him into the void gate seems to have come back with him.” Gabriel shrugged helplessly, “That word he kept muttering…Scyrexian… That must be what it is, or what it calls itself, or something to that effect. That’s what I heard the gate whispering before it went nuts, too.”
“Scyrexian…” Seth repeated, and went quiet in thought. He shook his head though, “I…I’ve been wanting to ask you. About what you experienced by the scar, when you said your Limitless activated without you. …I…think I’m past the point of ever possibly getting the affliction myself, so I’m perpetually stuck on the wrong side of a wall that I need to get through to understand this stuff. But you could…”
“You wouldn’t want it.” The mediator countered, “It’s not worth it.”
“But-“
“Trust me.”
Seth deflated, “That’s so unfair… For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by it – and the void scars. Ever since that first time I heard about the way the colony fleet came down, and Caeros’ involvement...I’ve known there was something to it. I’ve been given so much more than I could’ve ever asked for in my pursuit of learning more, but…not having the affliction myself is a massive handicap. You saw and heard things I couldn’t pick up on a single sensor. You can’t fathom how frustrating that is to know…”
Gabriel slouched slightly, “…Sorry, it’s…” He shook his head and looked away, “It’s a sensitive issue for me.”
“Is there more to it? …Than the obvious?” The teen wondered, “…Sorry, if that’s asking too much…”
The mediator considered those words for a moment. The conversation with the Eidolon a few hours earlier was still fresh, and the way Rylen had gone off his curated rails at the end still made Gabriel’s heart race anxiously. He pressed his fingers to his chest, and spread them out against the shirt a few times to soothe it, “…When I was really young, I couldn’t control it at all. My eyes would light up whenever I got too excited or scared, and…the number of times I accidentally split something in half was enough to drive my mother and I away from the village we’d started in. When the Fafnir found us, we were transients, passing through this camp, where people went when they had no where else to go. Xanarken told me that a dangerous Limitless-user was tracked to there, but he had the ability to mask who he was, so he kept getting away. He’d apparently caused so much damage – and each time, fled back to the Exclusion Zone – that they were at their wits end. Everyone was a target until he was taken out. Everyone except me, I guess…since this guy couldn’t change his height. But…my mother…”
Seth lowered his gaze quietly.
“I hated the Council for a long time after. Xanarken had to ask for help with me because of it, and this guy named J’ard came in… To this day, I’m not even sure if he was afflicted himself, or if he was just a really thorough and physical child-psychologist, but he put me through the ringer…”
“J’ard…” Seth echoed, “That…sounds familiar for some reas-… Oh! I know!”
“You know?”
“J’ard Qiste! He’s a First Winger!” The teen lit-up, glad to finally know something helpful, “He used to be one of Lord Rylen’s Inquisitors – learning about the Limitless and how to counteract it; they’re the ones who developed the sensory-deprivation helmets – but he felt his calling somewhere else. He became a tracker, of a sort, finding people with the affliction who were trying to hide it, to make sure they were on the registry. He was unpopularly effective; became known as a home-wrecker.”
“…Okay?”
“He claimed that his purpose in life was ‘helping people find their way,’ but those who didn’t appreciate his methods countered it by saying he helped people ‘find their way onto the lists.’” Seth continued, and looked up as he crossed his arms, and tapped one elbow with a finger, “His methods were rather popular with Lord Rylen though. I don’t even know how many afflicted people he tracked down in the end, but…because he was so good at it, he also developed a knack for being able to talk panicked afflicted down from their shock of being found. Like being able to calm a raging mustang, he just…found a way to work between the cracks of peoples’ psyches, and reasoned them into submission.”Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Gabriel made a face and grumbled slightly, “…Yeah, that sounds like what he did to me. Xanarken basically left me with the guy for a whole year before coming back. By then, I was a completely different kid, and Xanarken took me under his own wing from then on.”
Seth smiled, “People still speculate wildly on why he did that.”
The mediator guffawed, “I still speculate wildly on why he did that.”
The teen huffed a laugh, “The whims of the Eidolon are an enigma.”
“…I’ve never told anyone that story,” Gabriel noted quietly, and Seth buttoned-up again as well, “Granted, I think you’re the first person to ever just talk to me. In every other case, it’s always business…”
“Really?”
“Yeah, pathetic as that sounds. I don’t make or keep friends easily. For a guy whose job it is to make nice with folks, I tend to keep them at arm’s length.” He hefted his dangling leg up onto the bed and cross the two together there, “What I am and where I’m from makes people dubious of me.”
“I think you’re pretty cool.” Seth pointed at himself.
Gabriel just huffed, “Trauma-bonding at its best.”
“No, I’m serious! I mean, granted…you were in a bad mood when we first met, and Miss Ren asked you to help me by doing something you didn’t want to do…and then we got chased by a blood-crazed Magistrate, and we were in prison together for a bit…but…”
“Yeah, trauma-bonding.”
“Augh…”
“…Well, I guess it’s fine.” Gabriel followed, and drew those green eyes back onto himself, “Maybe something better can come out of it.”
“…You mean it?”
“Sure,” He shrugged, “Come over here. I’ll give you something you want.”
“Eh?”
Gabriel lowered his face briefly, and reached behind himself to pull the tie out of his hair. When he lifted his eyes again…that golden-white light started to pour out of them.
Seth was immediately on his feet and all-but jumped onto the foot of the bed, staring in shock, “I-I don’t have my glasses! You can’t do this to me when I’m not ready!”
That glow intensified, growing from a simple mist emitted from brightly-illuminated irises, to the coalescing tails of light that extended out to the side, then up, fading away at the tapered ends, “Just a taste of things to come. Consider it a thanks, for keeping me grounded in that cell. I dunno if I would’ve managed half as well if I only had Ren’s unconscious body to keep me company.” Behind him, his loosened hair hovered upwards, floating and coalescing slowly, “Maybe it’s time I tried to learn more about it myself. We can do it together.”
Seth was amazed, looking at every visible effect of that affliction. He even sat up on his knees and poked at that floating length of hair, “It…it’s like oil, in this state…” He threaded his fingers through it like a comb, though when he sat back down, he realized his fingers were now wet, and he saw red on them, “…What’s…this?”
Gabriel gave a gentle sigh, “The only part of my affliction that I can’t consciously get rid of. It’s…a tell, from the moment my mom died. When the Fafnir killed her, her blood got into my eye and hair…and it’s just…stayed that way, ever since, like a shadow that walks beside me.”
“Sheesh…” The teen turned his hand over, observing the red smears on his skin, “…All this time, I thought you did it with nanotech as a fashion statement. I should’ve immediately realized that wasn’t the case when I saw you in Kitez, and you still had it.”
“I guess I could do the opposite though…and use nanotech to hide it.” The mediator commented, “At this point, I feel like it would be disrespectful to my mom’s memory if I did, though. I see the red as a reminder of how far I’ve come, and to never forget where I started.”
Seth rubbed his fingertips together, “…It’s drying-out…and tacky, like real blood would be. I…wonder what it would look like under a microscope.”
“Prince Iresha has a similar thing happen with his affliction; his hair sometimes turns to fire when he really gets going.” Gabriel noted, and closed his eyes to shake the effect away; the glowing tails warbling from his eyes dissipated, and his hair went down to fall behind his back; completely dry, in its normal state, it was as if the tips of his hair had been dyed long ago, “There’ll be time enough to figure all that out later.”
“That’s so cool. I’m so jealous.”
“Take that excitement back to bed, kid, and get some sleep. I need to do the same. I have to work tomorrow.”
.
Just as Rylen had stated, the Kitezans had arrived the following day, roughly around noon. With the border between Sargon and Kitez being through the middle of a mountain-range, ships were made to zig-zag on their way through…and those on the western half were careful to keep a certain distance.
“Eidolon of the First, Sixth, and Fourth, on deck!”
The bridge-crew stood and showed their respect, then went back to their stations. Rylen led the way to the middle of the command level, with Xanarken close behind; Captain Rydell stood nearby, behind and to his Eidolon’s left. Gabriel was the last to arrive, and stood behind and to the right of his own Eidolon. Tensions were high as the Aegis’ main-screen showed the arrival of more and more ships, flanking the Duchy’s primary. Several of those ships were the same shape and image as the Magistrate’s vessel, and everyone who saw them knew that half the Conclave had arrived.
Gabriel sucked in a deep breath, “All this because of a rescue…”
“If only it was so simple,” Xanarken spoke quietly in answer.
Within a few minutes – and after the entire Kitezan fleet could be seen – the Duchy’s flagship flashed its forward lights, indicating they were ready to proceed. Xanarken nodded to the communications chief, and the forward screen shifted to a new display. Upon it was the visage of a woman; wild, fire-red hair cascaded behind an antlered crown, which came down on either side to frame her decorated face. Small metallic chimes hung from the rear-facing brow tine on each side, jingling softly with any subtle movement. Her skin was painted white, and a reddish-magenta hue went around her eyes; she looked every bit as fierce as she did regal.
“Funny that we should meet on such an auspicious occasion, Eidolon.” The Duchess started, “Such a shame that we can’t meet in person, as we once would.” Her eyes went conspicuously towards Furion, “You have with you a lineage known for its…outbursts.”
Gabriel side-eyed the Captain, looking for a reaction, but Furion was resolute and barely blinked.
“Duchess Far’nah. We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting.” Xanarken answered, and stepped forward on that elevated deck, “Will your husband be joining us?”
“My beloved has deferred the negotiations to me. He lacks the…political constitution necessary to be under such pressure. A gentle soul, he is.” She answered.
In the background, off the screen, Duke Mardu felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. He looked rather plain by comparison to his wife; a simple man with boring brown hair, not even styled into anything, and with a face full of stubble. Beside him, however, was a man who looked quite a bit more interesting; long black hair cut at mid-back in a straight line, slicked back and away from his face…half of which was covered by a chrome-metal mask. It obscured his right eye, most of his cheek – nearly down to the jawline – the side of his nose, and went up to round-out above the hairline of his brow. On the other side, past the alcove where Far’nah was being depicted, was Magistrate Regulus. On both sides were a number of other Magistrates of the Conclave; many wore their long white cowls, but some went without.
Ahead of the Duchess was a screen of their own, with the image of the Aegis’ deck on display, and primarily, Xanarken himself, out in front and center. The Eidolon just set his hands, relaxed, behind his back, “Very well. Let’s get on with it then. I’ll even let you go first.”
“How gracious, considering you’ve invaded our country.” She retorted, “Again.”
“Perhaps we should go first then. We were, after all, invited.” Xanarken countered, “Approximately one month ago, retired Magistrate Gavin Mallerd sent a request through the First Wing for an agent of the Inquisition to investigate a spontaneous void rift, which had opened on his property sometime before. Not wanting to compromise the identities of those anonymous soldiers, Lord Rylen sent Setharion Rydell instead, with a single Fafnir Knight – without armor – to accompany him. For the duration of that month, he worked quietly and peacefully, without any interaction with anyone outside of the Honorable Gavin Mallerd’s homestead. Without the ability to communicate with Seth or Sir Ianori, a mediator and his trainee were later sent to bring them home. At that time, Magistrate Regulus Laurier took it upon himself to track, trap, imprison, and torture them, and then evaded us in our effort to get them back. We were eventually able to bring most of them home…but you retain one Fafnir Knight who was regrettably left behind. And now we’re here, ready to negotiate in good faith for his safe return…and you have chosen to bring an armada.”
“After your Fafnir Knights massacred nearly everyone aboard the Magistrate’s ship, we would be fools not to.” Far’nah parried, “We now find ourselves seated outside the Fafnir’s home fortress; what’s to say they won’t simply come and try to do the same to us again?”
“My Knights caused no such damage aboard that ship,” Rylen chimed-in, “In fact, the only encounter they even had was with the Magistrate himself, and we have the footage to prove he was alive and unharmed when they left. Whatever casualties you want to lay at their feet, had already been casualties before they arrived.”
“Oh, really? Then who’s this?” The Duchess waved at the screen, and upon it displayed the image of Scyrexianori; security footage from his initial attack on the first person he saw upon awakening, “If I’m not mistaken, this is the Fafnir Knight you also ended up leaving behind. The one you now want back.”
Rylen gestured defiantly, “Whatever that is, it isn’t one of mine.”
Xanarken held his arm out to calm his brother’s temper, “It’s Sir Ianori’s body, but you can clearly see from your own sources that he was extremely dead. Enough-so that one of your surgeons was going to do an autopsy on him.”
“Believed dead isn’t the same as confirmed dead. All I see, from our own sources, is a man rising up and committing murder.” The Duchess scoffed.
Gabriel stepped closer and whispered to the Fourth, “Are we really going to have to bear responsibility for what Scyrexian did while using Ianori’s body?”
“I think so. Blaming an unknown force that Sir Ianori encountered in an extra dimensional rift will sound more insane than the suggestion that he rose from the dead.” He answered, then turned back to the main-screen, “And where is he now, then?”
“Confirmed dead.”
Furion grit his teeth, “That’s not the state we left him in.”
“We know for a fact that Sir Ianori was locked in the brig when the Fafnir Knights evacuated. He was quite alive at that time. Are you admitting that you murdered him?” Xanarken pressed, “This will be a very different conversation in that case.”
“How do we kill someone whom you said was already dead?”
“Where is Sir Ianori? Return his body and we may yet part without hostilities.” Xanarken warned, “As it stands, Seth and Sir Ianori were guests within your borders.”
“The two who followed were not. Moreover, for late former Magistrate Mallerd had no authority to send that invitation. So, all four were within our borders illegally, and given the nature of your…organization…is tantamount to an invasion.”
“’Late Magistrate?’” Gabriel echoed, and sneered slightly, “Regulus killed him. After we left. That’s the only way.”
“It seems we’re at an impasse,” The Duchess pulled back their attention, “We have something you want…and every way of proving that your man slaughtered an entire crew in cold blood, repeating the sins of the past. Imagine what the Hadiran Accord would think if we reached out and showed them what you’ve done?”
“If you joined them this wouldn’t even be an issue,” The Fourth replied, “These constant petty squabbles between us only occur because Kitez won’t fall in line with the others.”
“Fall in line?” Far’nah balked, then laughed, and leaned forward in her seat, hands white-knuckling the arm-rests, “Your Lordship, Kitez is a sovereign nation. We don’t owe you our obeisance. You show no respect for our borders nor our laws. You incur into our territories without regard for the damage you do. You should be on your knees, begging us for leniency.”
Rylen scoffed, and stepped closer to his fellow, “This is going nowhere. We could just deploy the Fafnir and finish them. Kitez can be ours within the day, and we’ll be done with this stupidity once and for all.”
Xanarken just shook his head, “The Accord would never accept such a hostile take-over. We risk fracturing it apart by being violent.” He turned back to the Duchess, “Name your price for Sir Ianori’s return.”
Far’nah sat back in her throne again, “…Recognition. Formal and irrefutable recognition. The way you recognize the Empire of Sargon.”
Rylen visibly rolled his eyes, “Kitez is nothing but a rogue colony.” He argued loudly, “One that’s gotten a really big head, and too big for its britches.”
“So, you admit it then!” The Duchess rose to her feet then, the chimes on her crown singing, “You don’t recognize the validity of any nation on the face of this world. You’re just paying lip-service where it benefits you to keep everyone under your thumb!”
Xanarken’s expression tensed; the more Rylen ran his mouth, the fewer options he had. But, there was some truth in what the First Eidolon said, and the Fourth retook command of the talk, “It’s not lip-service, Duchess. It’s peace. It’s equity. These colonies can call themselves whatever they want as long as they all play nice and stay in their lanes.”
“…Tsh, under the thumb of the Luminary Council.” She scowled.
“Under a thumb or with a boot on your neck. The choice is yours.”
“Kitez will never bow to you.”
Xanarken had finally lost his patience, “This child…”
Understanding what that tone meant, Rylen couldn’t help but smirk, and looked back out at the screen; there was about to be a spectacle, and he was in the first row.
“Under the authority vested to me as the Eidolon of the Fourth Wing of the Luminary Council, I, Xanarken Tellan, hereby disable the World Cloud border-barrier protocol with Colony-territory: Kitez.” Xanarken announced loudly, much to the chagrin and surprise of everyone on the Kitezan side.
Furion sat back in his Captain’s seat, “I need all shields up, and all weapons at the ready. This is all hands on deck. Ship-wide alert.”
“Sir!”
Lights flickered on Xanarken’s eyes, and to his sights, he could envision the gaping hole in the coverage of the World Cloud. He zoomed-in on the spot the Aegis was parked, and raised a finger out in front of himself. As he moved his arm forward, his finger dragged the perimeter forward…creating an inward bulge in the restrictive edge of the World Cloud’s permissible existence. With a flicker, the invisible wall that contained the nanotechnology of the Council was broken, and the shimmer of all those microscopic particles flooded forward.
The Kitezan fleet was visibly alarmed, but there was nothing they could do. Within a few seconds, their entire position was reconstituted within the World Cloud’s boundary, and every inch of them was surrounded by that imperceivable dust.
Far’nah could feel her heart pounding; the entire Conclave looked anxious and afraid. Even Regulus wasn’t sure what to do. The lights in the room darkened, and from those new shadows, the visage of Xanarken himself manifested. He stepped forward with an eerie, smooth grace, and brought a blade to Far’nah’s throat.
He looked past her shoulder, to the throne behind her, and held perfectly still, “The only reason Kitez still exists is because the Luminary Council allows it. I could kill every single person in your fleet, right here, and right now. Two clicks, and the World Cloud suddenly doesn’t have the programming to avoid being breathed in…and you know what can happen to a person when the lungs suddenly fill-up with debris.”
Far’nah’s eyes – and whole body – trembled. She could feel the edge of the knife against her skin; even made of nanomachines, it had a razor-sharp blade.
“If Sir Ianori is truly dead this time, then you can keep his body. That will be my gift to you…as an apology for the incursion into your ‘territory.’” Xanarken continued quietly, “But you will withdraw without another word. You will take your fleet back to Oceanside, and disperse however you want across that antiquated Hellscape you claim to call a country…and this will not…happen…again. Do we understand one another?”
She hesitated, but then timidly nodded; sweat beaded under her crown’s jeweled fore-band, and slipped down the side of her face, taking a trail of red hue down her cheek and neck.
“Then give the order.”
The Duchess – and every terrified set of eyes watching helplessly from every angle – raised her right hand for their attention, “W-we…we’re leaving. All ships, turn around immediately. Return to the capitol. B-by order of the Duchy.”
The command was disseminated throughout the armada, and – one by one – the ships started to turn around. At the last, the Duchy’s flagship finally did the same, and once Xanarken was sure that it had arrived at the new perimeter of the World Cloud, he let his blade dissolve and took a step back, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Duchess Far’nah.” He looked towards her husband, “Duke Mardu. Magistrates.” He looked directly at that here-to-fore quiet masked figure, “Latheroux.”
The border barrier passed through the ship, and Xanarken’s mantle exploded into nothingness. He remanifested aboard the bridge of the Aegis beside his brother, and let out a sigh, “I’m restoring the barrier to its prior position. Aegis crew, stand down.”
“…Yessir.” Furion acknowledged.
Rylen snorted a laugh as the main-screen changed over from the negotiations window to just the sight of the fleet retreating, “What’d you say to her? I love it when you get this way.”
“…I merely reminded her of her place.”
Gabriel got a shiver down his spine to hear it, “…Jeeze…”