Jebuthar had very much wanted that attack to succeed. He’d assumed that Densal would have learned from Jebuthar’s military example and dropped on the city from above, fighting quickly and efficiently. But the moron had given the order to land at the bottom of the valley, unable to do anything apart from a traditional line-em-up assault. Densal still thought like a stupid noble. Ignorant and unable to change.

On top of it all, she had threatened to slaughter an entire city just to make a point. Soldiers were one thing, but the slaughter of innocents? He couldn’t allow it. But she was taken care of now and would be a problem no longer.

Jebuthar rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Narazoth had seen and conveyed the images of the automatons shattering by falling stone and trees. Revin was proving to be a greater nuisance than he’d anticipated. In one moment, a single monk and three dozen saurians had killed more automatons than any other enemy he’d fought. Rebuilding his forces would be inconveniently time-consuming.

He yelled out a curse. If news of this got out, he’d have an even harder time maintaining his power over the nations. He ruled by fear, for now at least. But someday he hoped to rule by respect. By gratitude.

Revin had to be removed. Even more than Omrai. Jebuthar cursed himself for not killing him sooner. Why had he given the boy so many chances? Why had he spared him when he could have struck him down? Well, he hated killing well-meaning monks, and he’d seen Revin’s talent. He’d hoped to sway him once he’d taken the Hiriv.

Despite burning that city in the mountains to the ground, this failure would embolden the Ateyans and make conquering the Hiriv harder as well. He clenched his fists, wondering why the world didn’t understand.

Jebuthar felt hands on his shoulders, massaging deeply. He exhaled, allowing himself to relax for at least a moment.

“You shouldn’t over-exert yourself,” she said.

“I’m exerting just enough for a man trying to save the world,” Jebuthar said, holding his tension.

“I’m here to help,” she said, “No one should take on such a task alone.”

Through Narazoth, Jebuthar looked through the eyes of an automaton standing in the same room. He analyzed her posture and rolled his eyes. She leaned forward, attentive. One leg straight, the other slightly curved. From the tilt of her hips he understood what she was offering him, trying to probe a response out of him in return.

He let out a sigh, and grabbed her wrists, she jerked in surprise.

“Lemri, Lemri, why do you insist on seeking after that which you cannot have?”

“We’ve been working together for a while, Jebuthar,” she said, leaning in and whispering dangerously close to his ear, “You haven’t felt an ounce of attraction towards me?”

He released her hands and jumped up from his chair, turning around. He looked into her eyes, they were teasing, but hopeful.

“I don’t have the luxury of time for romance,” he said.

She frowned.

“You have been absolutely critical in my mission here,” he continued, “and I fear that without you I never would have come to understand the technology of Kerdun, but that doesn’t mean I think of you the way you want me to, and it doesn’t mean I ever will. So, forget it. ”

Her hopeful face turned into a scowl, but still maintained a semblance of teasing. “Fine, but you let me know when you’re interested.”

She walked away, swaying her hips in an exaggerated manner. Time wasn’t really the problem. To be honest, he had time. But he felt no attraction toward her or anyone. And there were far more important things to be concerned with.

He mused on how people thought they were subtle, when their body language screamed what they thought and felt. Few could hide it from him.

After she left, he sat with a sigh. Back to work , he thought. He heard a soft chuckling and looked up. Some of the other Almerians were staring. But they hadn’t laughed. Lord Staiwaki, the representative from Koyeji, stood in one of the entrances to the command deck.

“How long have you been there?”

“Not very long, High Lord Jebuthar, but long enough.”

Jebuthar nodded. “Come, sit.”

Lord Staiwaki approached. He still smirked.

“Why do you spurn her advances? She is attractive.”

Jebuthar stared at Staiwaki, unamused. “I value her for her intellect, not her physical properties . Enough with this frivolity, we have things to discuss. Sit down.”

Staiwaki’s smile dissipated and he took a seat in front of Jebuthar. He looked at Jebuthar’s chair. The kings of this land seemed to judge a man by the size of his throne. Some response to a lack of self-confidence. Jebuthar’s seat wasn’t anything ornate. It was practical. Like everything about his ships and the Almerians.

It was, however, a significant height taller than Staiwaki’s seat. He did appreciate that. Not only could he easily see what everyone was up to in the command room, but it was appropriate for reminding visitors on lower chairs of their lower status.

“We had a good opportunity to be rid of Omrai and we missed it,” Jebuthar said

Staiwaki frowned and nodded, “Yes, your cannons failed, and my messenger… he missed his chance to meet with the agent we placed.”

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“This seems terribly inefficient. Why don’t you just shoot him and be done with it?” Jebuthar said, “You have the greatest snipers in the world.”

“Patience,” Staiwaki said with an air of confidence, “we Koyejians are known for our precise planning.”

“Your precise planning has yet to overcome his talents. But it doesn’t matter now, our priorities have changed.”

Staiwaki looked confused, “What do you mean? Omrai is the greatest threat you face.”

Jebuthar shook his head, “Oh, I certainly believe he has the potential to become this threat you and the other nations ramble on about, but currently, his efforts against me have been disastrous. He’s little more than an insect.”

“Then what is the greater threat?”

“Revin Henrir, the monk.”

Staiwaki again raised an eyebrow, “Now, one half-success does not merit a greater threat than Omrai.”

“A half success?” Jebuthar said, “Staiwaki, despite Densal Valen’s bumbling, that ‘half success’ resulted in the destruction of half her forces.”

Staiwaki scoffed. “The monk had a situational advantage with those mountains.”

“And what if he should find more situational advantages ?” Jebuthar snapped, “He’s been making strides, and I fear his potential is too great, if he were to master a sufficient number of saurians, or if he finally mastered some carnivores… that would obstruct my goals. He opened an automaton, tried to take command. This cannot be allowed.” Narazoth had said that Revin had gleaned things. The walking ship. Did he know its location? Did he know of Jebuthar’s prisoners?

“I will make sure he dies,” Staiwaki said.

Jebuthar slammed his fist on the table, “You’ve given me fruitless promises before!”

Staiwaki put his hands up in defense. “I was dealing with High Lord Siriyog’s son, he was asking too many questions. I lead him on several distracting excursions to convince him further of Ateya’s involvement in his father’s assassination. A man as smart as Prince Siroki won’t be easily duped.”

“If I’d just invaded Koyeji then duping wouldn’t be necessary,” Jebuthar said. He smiled as if thinking of a new idea. “You know, I could take a break from Ateya. Koyeji wouldn’t take me too long to conquer.”

Staiwaki shifted uncomfortable. But Jebuthar continued.

“This slow conversion plan, killing your high lord, convincing his son to side with me… I just don’t know if it’s working. To be honest, I don’t need the official support of your leaders. And I’m starting to think that being rid of your games would be most efficient.”

Staiwaki paled even further. He stumbled across his words. “What can I do to repair the situation, my lord?”

Jebuthar’s smile widened. He loved to watch powerful men squirm. “You can start by assassinating the monk. Revin Henrir must be killed, or there will be consequences.”

Staiwaki nodded and stood. “I understand, High Lord. I will get to it immediately.”

“No, I have one more item to discuss.”

Staiwaki sat again, looking fearful. Yes, this man would continue to obey.

“You wanted to tell me about your run-in with the giganotos? My Automatons only saw them, and their perception was quite disjointed, to say the least. Rarely do my warriors experience any measure of fear .”

Staiwaki nodded again, “Yes, the giganotos were in and out quickly. They destroyed your automatons in a rush, and only by blowing a few powder kegs were my men and I able to scare them off. We’d tried to use your gravity weapons, but they were only nominally effective against the giganotos.”

Jebuthar cocked his head, “What are you talking about? Those weapons should be especially effective against saurians of such a size.”

“Well, unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They were hurt by the weapons, yes, but they hardly slowed down.”

Jebuthar frowned. “This is most unfortunate. We shall have to look further into this.”

“My men have been scouring the countryside, trying to find them. They haven’t been following their normal migratory patterns. Probably something to do with the saurians we’ve been harvesting.”

Jebuthar went quiet. “I’ll have to think about this. If can kill or capture them…”

Jebuthar wondered if he should have Narazoth master them. Perhaps they could fight on his side instead. Or they could be harvested…

He looked back at Staiwaki, “Go, find the giganotos, but remember that your greatest priority is the assassination of Revin Henrir. He throws our plans into chaos. He needs to be removed.”

Staiwaki nodded and, with a deep bow, left.

Jebuthar sat by himself again, pondering. Pain crept up his neck toward his head and he almost wished Lemri would return to rub his shoulders. The load was getting quite burdensome.

“We’re close to our limit again,” Narazoth mindspoke.

“I feel it too. The strain.”

“Then we’re going to need to connect another to the core,” Jebuthar thought back, “Do any seem close to breaking?”

“One… perhaps.”

“And their leader? When will he be willing?”

Narazoth sent him a rush of uncertainty. “I don’t know, no amount of threatening works.”

“We’re going to need more soon,” Jebuthar said, “Keep trying. The world depends on us to do this. If Revin manages to master any greater carnivores, or if his limit is comparable to ours, then our mission will be that much harder.”

“I will continue, then,” Narazoth thought, “Get some rest, I’ll work with the prisoners. We will have the power we need soon. And if we want, we can make another trip.”

Jebuthar sent a feeling of approval, reclined back his chair, and closed his eyes. Highest bless the Almerian who invented the reclining chair.

It didn’t take long for sleep to overcome him.