The border was quiet. It has been for a while now. There was a time, not too long ago, in fact, when Commander Mardex had led the far left flank in the Meratid conflict, that he had hoped for a bit of quiet. Now it crushed him from within. Look at him! Was he not still a warrior? Did he not still serve with the same zeal, the same passion for glory, as he did when Rughoi was yet the farmer-king, who rose up against his dracon oppressor and led his people to victory? Questions like these plagued his mind, as he sat under the cover of this large pavilion built along the Talon Pass. Surrounding him were commanders, chiefs, and handfuls of captains, warlords, and kobolds of other titles, enough to nearly pack the tiny space full. He knew well enough that lower-ranked officers, both within the imperial system and without, were crowded around the tent outside, listening for every scrap of conversation that might imply a decision.

Between them all, sat the very reason for this near-secret meeting. A book, bound on leather and thick enough that it required two of the strongest legionnaires to carry it. A book recording the history of human nobility tradition, and the titles used within the human empire across the sea. They had all read it, they who surrounded the low table. These were most, if not all, of the major players in the burgeoning game of politics within the imperial army. It was very possible that no three people in this inner circle kept the same title.

"I call this meeting to order," Commander Mardex said, staring at the pages. "Let us hear some preliminary thoughts." Shouts of dissent immediately followed, challenging his right to call the meeting to order, followed immediately by questions regarding the necessity of this meeting and the risk of threatening Rughoi's legitimacy. "I promise you, there is no threat to His Might's hold over us. He is unquestionable, that we know without doubt. This is merely an . . . agreement. Between us. To cement our power within the court and to centralize the kobold peoples within His Might's order." Mumbles, both sarcastic and concurring. At least they daren't say anything to his face.

"I agree. We are the most loyal out of anybody to Rughoi's vision of a free kobold people," said Chief Vajra, standing up and leaning on his staff. His mangled leg was on display for all to see, Vajra's final word on any who doubt his loyalty. If the rumors are to be trusted, he lost it dueling a dracon captain in the assault on Traeton. "We are aware that the military is in shambles. There is no trust, no loyalty. Look at us now. Over in the corner are Rajas, around the entrance stand the Warlords, and sprinkled around are the Underkings." Nods, nods at his words. "With this, we hope to fix all this. We hope this will finally bring the entire army together, as one empire, the way His Might intended."

"Thank you, Chief Vajra," Mardex said. "So, in short, we are assuming titles that will finally be universally recognized, as well as make clear distinctions between the ranks. So, to begin, let's look at what the book calls a 'Vasileus Vasileon Vasileuon Vasileuonton'. That would be, without question, Rughoi." Shouts of praise, as well as prayers to Arda, followed the naming of that particular title. A chant started up for Rughoi's name, but quickly fell silent. "Now, it says here that right under that . . . that, is the 'Dukoi', or the 'Dux'. They are the greatest in power under the emperor himself, and serve closest with him." Immediately, the meeting was in chaos, with each of the ranks vying for that name.

"Silence!" shouted Vajra, and they did. Mardex acceded to himself that if anyone got to be a Dux, it would be Vajra. "Now, we have decided to surrender this title. "Now, if Raj Shavan, Commander Rebat, Underking Qerso, and Raj Azarg could join us at the front." With a shuffling, they did. "Now, the six of us, together, shall be the Dukoi. We, together, hold far more power than the rest of the room combined. I think it should go to us. Any objections?" Some did, but none loud enough to make themselves known in the crowd. Rebat nodded, silently.

"If this means I may better serve His Might," he said, gravely.

"Good, we're all in agreement," Mardex said. "Dux Mardex. I think it fits. Now, as for all bearing the name of Underking, as well as Rajas Risi, Xolot, Ervan, Zati, Vaishya, and Commanders Qort, Mazant, Kezlin, and Vargan, shall be granted the next title down, the Count." It was a dracon title, and they knew it. The complaints began rolling in. "We know, alright!? We know! But recall, if you will, that Rughoi took the name Count of Traeton, to appease the dracon mercenaries. And besides, it was adopted from an early human society, so that is that." With help from the other Dukoi, the new Counts finally came to terms with their burden. "Chiefs, Rajas, Marzobans, and Commanders not previously mentioned, as well as Captains Tilx and Sabil, will thus be assigned the title of Strategos. All remaining members of this meeting will be titled Legates, and those not present shall keep their styling of Captain. Now, are we in agreement?" There were, fortunately, no objections to that. Everybody now designated Strategoi and Legates were outside.

"Good. Praise Scen, and praise His Might," Vajra said, gravely. "Everyone will, of course, keep this meeting secret. It won't do for His Might to find out immediately that everything has changed." Nobody said anything but mutters.

@Shadow Dragon

Ophion chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure its been raided before, just not successfully. As for what I hope to gain, I'd like to learn more about the truth behind Polybius and end whatever dangers may be lurking inside of the tomb. Gold and knowledge are nice, but they'll just be icing on the cake here, so to speak. If there are any necromantic items in there, you can have them for yourself. I can destroy anything you don't want to take or is too dangerous to let loose on the world. If I can destroy them, that is."

@bloonewb

It was long said that three men could keep a secret if two of them were dead. Kali had heard of the meeting in the pavilion, but she didn't spy on it. She didn't need to. All it took was a quick tipoff to Aerta, who in turn sent a scrying sensor out to it. Much to her surprise, it was a meeting on the renaming and retitling of official positions, done without Rughoi's knowledge and thus, without his consent. Even more intriguing were the use of human titles. While dracons had adopted a few of them directly, such as 'count' or 'duke', some of them were clearly from the Empire of Constantsea, or at least, that was the name of the empire to the best of Aerta's recollection. From what else Kali reported, it was likely that Ardasa would be with egg soon enough, although Kali withheld information about any prophecies from the dracons. Even Aerta wasn't told.

For her part, Aerta had been lying on her bed, staring into a polished mirror which she used to scry. Or at least, it was one of many such mediums she used for that purpose. She preferred to use a bowl of water, but that would be much harder to utilize on her bed, and she didn't want to risk spilling it on the freshly-cleaned linen sheets. The information Kali had provided her didn't give her much in the way of useful or conclusive data, but it was a sign that not all was stable in Xigyll. Titles were very important in the dracon realms, and they appeared to have similar importance among the kobolds due to the consternation caused by changing them, even though the underlying substantial powers appeared to have remained unchanged. The idea was to "cement their power", possibly in opposition to the crown. While it was clear that they weren't against Rughoi himself, the kobold nobles and commanders present might not be so loyal to his heir, even with the blood of their beloved leader flowing through the veins of that new ruler. A diverse population held together by thin threads of loyalty to an individual was a recipe for civil war, especially in the absence of an outside threat. Aerta and Adykon knew that the kobold state of Xigyll might very well self-destruct without Rughoi to keep it together, and it remained to be seen whether or not the realm was viable or if it was simply the expression of a great leader's conquests. A true test of a tree's strength was when the wind blew hardest, after all.

She didn't tell Adykon what she was about to do. Although she didn't think he'd overreact, her errand wasn't worth his time. Adykon had to deal with high-end threats and dangers on a regular basis, including reports of increased activity near the tomb of Polybius. That posed a greater danger. Aerta climbed out of bed and did her stretches, then pulled on a fresh loincloth and top. A few more stretches later and she was ready to go. With a gesture, she teleported out of the room as casually as a commoner might open a door or a window, disappearing from Adykon's farmhouse and reappearing in Kutur and Kali's hut. Kali herself was nowhere to be found. Her previous scrying had also revealed the fact that Kutur wasn't in the hut, but that he might be soon. Whichever one arrived back at the hut was fine by her. Kali could be trusted, and everything she had been told about Kutur by Kali indicated that he could be reasoned with, once he got his snout out of a book.

"Gratitude. Although any necrotic items that I don't take, I'll just drain of power so you don't have to worry about the magic backlash. As for "too dangerous", they're only dangerous if they end up in the wrong hands. Those who can activate them, but don't know what they do, and those who know what they do, and have ill intentions. Do you really think that I have any malicious intent?" He looks out over the desert, his glowing eyes settling back on the mage. "Besides, do you honestly think that if I truly wanted any of the dangerous items, that you'd be able to stop me from taking them?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to escort you the rest of the way?" Sabil asked. He stretched, and squinted into the blazing sun. Waves of heat emanated from the ground, twisting the horizon any which way it rose.

"No need, Captain Sabil," Kutur responded, scratching the bump on his head. Of course, he was Strategos Sabil now, he just didn't know it yet. Swept without his knowing into the coalition of the new kobold nobility. What a force they would be, together against the imperial legion. Rughoi's power is waning with the peace, and they know it as well as he. "You should be off. The Talon Pass won't watch itself." Sabil bowed his head and rattled his gear, taking off for the horizon where his men await.

Kutur watched him go with dispassionate eyes. Sabil was a strange character, younger even than Rughoi. Unlike many of the officers in the legion, Sabil joined the army after the establishment of Xigyll, and outside of a few raids on undefended dracon merchants, has never seen battle at all. He would never have gotten to the position he held at all if not for a fateful meeting the two of them had, not too long ago, nothing more than a pleasant chat at the riverside market. Kutur pulled a few strings, and presto, a new captaincy position opened up. Despite that, however, Kutur remained confident that this young warrior would become a talented commander, perhaps even rising through the new nobilities to become a dux. He has already exhibited impressive competence in organizing his small band, and seems eager enough for more power.

All of that shall have to wait. Kutur excitedly looked down at the bag in his hand. A few more "chance" encounters like this in the fish market and this may become a regular thing. Perhaps he was getting old . . . what a scary thought. He made his way to his door, and opened it, then froze.

Someone was in his house. Someone dracon. His body froze, and he dropped his fish bag into the sand. He couldn't see his other hand, but he knew by the warm feeling that the years of Red Discipline training had paid off. He was holding a fireball there, ready to fly at a split second's notice.

" . . . Don't do anything rash," Kutur said, slowly squeezing the words through his contracted throat. " . . . Don't make me do something we will both regret."

@Shadow Dragon

"Yes. I am sure of it. I could stop you if I had to. That's an observation, not a threat. Don't worry, I trust you. At least, I trust you as you are. If you go mad with power and try to consume my soul, I think I will be justified in adjusting my assessment of the situation." Ophion let it hang there for a moment. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you won't be a threat to me. Besides, our shared welfare depends on cooperation. You'd only be dooming yourself by turning traitor, even if you slew me."

It was another hour before they reached the base of Polybius's tomb. Ophion had heard stories about its entrance, but it failed to impress. It was a rectangular door, standing upright at about two meters across and about ten meters tall. It was a blank reddish-brown stone slab set into a light brown rectangular wall which was itself sunk into a tall cliff face.

"I think we can get this open easily if we combine our magics. I can sense some enchantments on it. Nothing too difficult to breach but we'd best save our energies for later." The archmage extended his right hand and opened his palm so that it was facing to tomb's door. A moment later saw a bright golden light rise in his hand, which then emitted a beam of the same light heading out in a straight line, impacting the door.

@bloonewb

"Don't worry so much, although I'm sorry for the home intrusion. It was the only place I could enter without causing an even bigger fuss in this city" Aerta explained, seemingly unfazed by the threat he posed to her. Although Kutur was likely more powerful than her in a fight, she could teleport away at any moment. "My name is Aerta. I'm friends with Kali. And yes, Adykon is my husband. I know Rughoi as well. He used to work for my husband. I was nice to Rughoi in those days. Same with all of the farm workers. I even baked him some biscuits once. Oh, you can put that fireball down. I don't want to harm you or take anything. I'm here to talk."

She shifted her weight, ready to escape if she had to. "Now, I understand that there's been a sort of change in ranks around here. Or a change in titles, more accurately."

He slashes his scythe around the rim of the doorway, and sends a pulse of power into the door, making the stone crack slightly. He sighs, and raps his scythe on the ground. A black ring of necrotic power surges into the earth, and a large skeleton raises itself from the ground. The skeleton is massive, towering over them. He waves his hand at the door. "Open." The massive pile of bone fits the tips of it's fingers into the crack, and begins pulling on the stone, sending cracks up the rock, and stone chips fling everywhere. He sees no threat in the flying shards of rock, and waits patiently for the giant to move the door. He inspects the ruin etched golden staff, and strides forward when the door is removed.

Kutur decided against extinguishing his fireball. His masters had taught him too well for that. Their words still echo in the vast chambers of his mind, shouting commands of aggression and defensiveness all at once. Never let your guard down. The first move is the most deciding move. Those you might not outfight you shall outwit. Kutur blinked, both with his eyes and within his head. Neither of them have made any sudden movements, and if she was such a friend of Kali's, she can't possibly be a danger, right? Desperately, Kutur tried to reclaim all his thoughts, and bring them back under control. He is more than capable of reasoning like a civilized entity.

"What do you want?" Kutur finally decided on saying, the flames dancing little rings about his claws. No, that didn't sound right. Too accusatory. Quickly, reword and try again. "What do you seek in the domains of Xigyll? I'm sure if there is something you need, I might be of great help obtaining it. I don't mean to be arrogant, but I might arguably be one of the most influential kobolds in the court. Should you have a problem that requires a remedy here, we may have it sorted out very promptly." That sounded about cordial enough. She was technically an ambassador, after all.

@Shadow Dragon

The great door gave way, revealing a surprisingly well-maintained and well-lit hallway beyond. In fact, it appeared so well-maintained that one could be forgiven for thinking it had been built yesterday. Suspicious, Ophion stood just outside of Polybius's tomb and held up his hand again, shining a blue light on the passage ahead of him. The light washed over the floor and walls, covering them in the same hue, but otherwise revealing nothing. No changes to the hall, real or apparent, came to the fore.

"Intriguing. It isn't an illusion." He walked over to the floor and touched it with his right foot. It was solid. He turned back to the wraith. "This tomb hasn't been maintained well, it's literally been frozen in time. Or at least, the passage of time has been altered in here so as not to affect the tomb itself. This isn't a decayed tunnel, but one which is actually fresher and newer than most which are around today, and yet the tomb and thus the magic dates from before the rise of permanence spells on this continent. That means the preservative effect isn't lasting by itself. Something's powering it, possibly the lich himself. If he falls, this place might very well decay all at once. I'm not sure if wrecking his physical body will trigger that or if we have to destroy his phylactery as well. Probably the latter. I also suspect that he is capable of withdrawing the magic which keeps this place pristine at any time, so he may be able to collapse the tomb at will."

@bloonewb

Aerta smiled, knowing that she could escape at any time if she needed to. "No need to be so formal, Kutur. Etiquette is best used as an expression of sincerity, not a shield to cower behind. I have found that the more refined a set of manners are, the more they are used to cover up deficiencies instead of being used to solve them. Now, I'm here on what you might call a fact-finding trip. It has come to my attention that a number of titles were recently changed as part of a general reorganization of Xigyll's elite. Normally, the changing of hats and labels matters little, but in a fluid situation such as that of a newly-established realm, it can easily upend the still-developing political order. For starters, I'd like to know why there's been a change of titles and if it has any substance to it? If the change is just for reasons of vanity, I'll happily return to my husband's side."

He nods. "He most likely built it as a safety measure, if he indeed is the one who placed this time altering spell. If too powerful of a threat gets in, something the lich can't kill alone, he brings down several tons of rock on their heads as he escapes." The giant skeleton he summoned sinks back into the earth. "Let's see how this staff reacts in it's master's home, shall we?" He lifts the golden scepter as he walks in, the staff glowing with black power. He begins chanting in a dark, twisted tongue, and the shadows around him begin warping and moving, the staff and his scythe both getting darker by the second. He floats into the stone crypt, holding the scepter aloft in his left hand.

"I'm not at liberty to say," Kutur answered, sheepishly. "I gave Commander Mardex my books regarding the titular histories of the Bythesea Empire, where I studied. In exchange, he gave me a rather . . . vague explanation of his plans for the imperial legions. Beyond that, I know nothing." It was a lie. Kutur was never good at lying. He had some practice, certainly, especially since his retreat from the court. They were barely worth thought, small matters such as where he is going tonight, or why he won't be available during certain days. His word alone was usually sufficient to dissuade anyone from pressing a matter further. However, this was not, as he must remember, just another military official, who knows that behind Kutur stands always the unquestionable power of Rughoi himself. This is a foreigner. "Perhaps it is by His Might Rughoi's design that . . . whatever is happening is . . . happening. I would be more than willing to introduce you to the court. Or if not him, then his matched one, the empress Ardasa. They together hold the power of the army, and would be much more likely to answer on it than myself."

@Shadow Dragon

Ophion nodded. "If things get too bad, I should be able to teleport us out. There may be wards in here which prevent teleportation in or out, so it may get a little dicey..." he let it hang there for moment as the wraith spoke. "The scythe seems to be absorbing some of the ambient energy of this place. It may grow more powerful the longer we are in here, or it might risk overloading and exploding. Honestly, most of my experience with ambient energy absorption comes from experiments in a controlled environment. I've only ever seen it in the field a few times."

@bloonewb

Aerta took that in as best she could. She had heard of the Bythsea Empire and many other human states, but she wasn't an expert. To her, it sounded like the adoption of new titles was a cover for a power grab, using "modernization" or perhaps "standardization" as a way of acquiring more power at Rughoi's expense, or the expense of other powerful figures in Xigyll's nascent state.

"I would like to meet Ardasa. It is nice to see that he has found a mate, or a wife, or whatever the status of matched one would signify." She was much more likely to get an audience with Ardasa if she could get Kali on board, as the priestess was friendly to both Rughoi's consort and the sorceress. She had slumped into a kobold-sized chair barely large enough for her frame. Even so, it was quite comfortable. "Can an audience be arranged?"

While she found the thought of a kobold state rather amusing, Aerta realized that most around here wouldn't find it that way. This was a serious effort on the part of a different species to establish an independent realm. Any show of condescension or belittling on her part could prove disastrous.

"Good thing I have extensive practice with it then, as I built this scythe. What do you think all the ruins on it were for?" The etched ruins on the scythe glow black, the color getting deeper by the second. "I assume the staff may have an unexpected reaction, but I know what my scythe is capable of. This isn't even close to what I used when I built it originally. It's technically made of at least five different artifacts, all synchronized to strengthen one another to an incredibly controlled, and powerful, degree." He spins his scythe, and the black aura around it gets deeper, blotting out the light around it.

"Very well, I'll organize it promptly. I could arrange for guest rooms to be opened up in the palace for your use while you wait, but to do so would require I be informed as to the nature of your visit. Would you call yourself a diplomat? A friend of the court?" Kutur spoke, while pacing about the hut, gathering papers and books. Some official-looking text was scribbled across one. It was a template Kutur designed for official documentation, one of many under consideration. "If you will excuse me, I shall make it so. Will you come to the palace with me?" He departed, arms full of his things, for the palace.
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"Dux," a kobold said, pulling back his hood to reveal a pair of bloodshot eyes. Mardex waved his hand towards a chair, and the kobold took it. "I bring word from the city."

"Go on then, speak. Does this have anything to do with our . . . strategy?" The hooded one nodded.

"I have done as you asked. There is a talent, hidden in the muck of the urban environment. A mage, and possibly a very good one."

"A mage? What sort?" Mardex leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glowing with anticipation. The game has changed. The quicker one is to realize that, the more advantage one reaps, and Mardex plans to reap greatly. Vying for power against loyalists such as Vajra and Rebat is a formidable task, and he intends to gain immense power at their expense. To do so would require many victories, among them most critically the acquisition of magical power.

"I know not. However, this one does not exhibit signs of formal training. With the power he wields, there is the possibility of him possessing even more arcane ability than Magister Kutur."

"More power than . . . keep an eye on him. Get in contact if you feel is necessary. I want to have this mage under my sway before any of the others do. Who knows what they are planning now . . . " Mardex mused. The kobold nodded, and pulled his hood over his head before departing. Mardex's ambition was dangerous, a flame that burned too brightly. It could just as likely bathe the empire in its golden glow as set both it and him alight.

Zandex chants an old song to himself as he pounds away at a white hot slab of pure steel. It had taken him quite a while to coax the metal out of the ore block, but his life was one of patience. His father had taught him that. Nothing good comes from a rushed product. It was his father that he thought of as he worked his craft. He lifts the twisted lump of metal from the anvil, placing it back in the forge to reheat as he works on coaxing out the last impurities. He looks at the metalwork, and reshapes the edge. Too crooked. He lifts the white hot creation in his bare hand, running his finger across it as he looks for the tiny fracture he felt earlier. There you are. He pushes the metal back together, welding it with the magic running in his veins, fixing the minuscule crack.

The spy took a deep breath, and removed his hood. From his robes, he took out a symbol of Hetuis and a stone tablet of ancient draconic script. For all the world, he looked as if an acolyte priest. Slowly, he entered the smithy, and admired the steelwork. "This is very magnificent," he said, quietly, feeling the various pitchforks, shovels, and the like. "Very magnificent indeed. You must be talented in your work." Of course, he was an informed spy. He knew that it was magical influence that rendered the tools so smooth and reflective. One tip from an unsuspecting neighbor was all that was necessary for information to travel down the vast and secretive information web into the ears of countless listening ears. All one needed to do was be in the right tavern and buy certain people the right ale. He crossed over to the busy blacksmith and pretended to read from the stone tablet. "Truly, your hand must be blessed by Scen and Arda. I have never seen such precise metallurgy." He smiled then, a cold, mysterious smile. "I have a friend in the high circles of the court, by the name of Commander Mardex. Perhaps you have heard of his heroic exploits in the Third Battle of Lake Draconis. If you would like, I could put in a good word for you to him. He is, after all, a military man, and could always make use of a kobold who can work him fair swords."

@Shadow Dragon

(Sorry for that. I was waiting for both of you to respond, and things got very busy for me at work when you did. I'll just reply when one or the other does from now on. Things will go much faster if I do that.)

"Really? Five artifacts? Might I inquire as to what they are, or at least, what their nature is?" Ophion wished he had a chance to investigate the scythe more closely. Then again, this wasn't the best place to do it, and he suspected that even his personal lab back home would be hard-pressed to unravel the mysteries of the undead, given that it wasn't his specialty.

@bloonewb

"A friend of the court would work, as I am basically one of those for her Mercy. Or whatever style Ardasa has given herself these days." Aerta explained. Much like in the dracon realms, titles were given an inordinate amount of importance compared to the actual power they represented. It may have been a quirk of the reptilian mind, as dragons, dracons, and kobolds alike placed great importance on the names of their ranks, to an extent rarely seen among humans, dwarves or most elves. She had read once that it had to do with the perception of time. For humans, one's rank had to do with the present and one's current place in it, but for reptilian species, one's rank was a sign of future aspirations, including those which could be perceived as threatening the established order.

"I'd be happy to accompany you to the palace. Aerta lifted her right foot and turned it to the side, exposing the white sole on her otherwise pink-skinned foot. "Oh, and as a token of my goodwill, you can hold this for the duration of my visit." Aerta reached down to the middle toe on her foot and pulled off a ring. It was the only piece of jewelry she was currently wearing. "This is my wedding ring. I wouldn't leave without it. Consider it insurance against me doing anything inappropriate." She followed Kutur and placed the ring in his hand. It was a rather wide hoop of gold, considering that it was meant for her toes rather than her fingers, and considering that she was a dracon and he only had the much shorter stature of a kobold. "And yes, female dracons typically wear their wedding bands on their toes, while males have them on their fingers. Long story."

@Aristocles

"The blade is a scimitar I got from a old friend, the shaft is an old quarterstaff I acquired in a black market deal, the handle is from the armbands of a demilich, the tassels, for lack of a better word, are from the bow of a vampire, and the cap at the bottom is the ring of an ancient death knight that I bested in combat. They are all designed to do one thing. Enhance necrotic power. I forged them into this scythe to make the ultimate necrotic weapon, but this staff seems to be it's equal. Might I keep it when we're done raiding this tomb? Provided the Lich doesn't reclaim it?"

@bloonewb

He looks up at the priest with a burning, ironclad gaze. "Don't bother me until I'm done with my work, if you know what's good for you." He continues hammering away at his steel, then plunges it into a tub of water to cool it. "There. Still gotta polish it, but I'm done for now." He hisses at the mention of sword making. "Don't make a mockery of my talent, priest. You don't think I've thought of that? I enjoy my work, and I don't want to be a pawn in someone else's game. You never even told me your name, no introduction, just straight into flattery to try swaying me on your side." He snaps once, and his massive smith hammer flies across the forge to his hand. "I've heard of Commander Mardex, and I know he's a great man, military wise. And you never will see finer metalworking. But I make far more then blades. Suggesting such is an insult to me, and my craft."

@Shadow Dragon

"Heh. Black magic on the black market. Should've guessed" Ophion chuckled. "So, whether or not you can keep it depends on exactly how powerful it is and what happens, assuming it survives the trip. I'm going to say that as things stand, it seems like it would be fine if you keep it, but if it turns out to be very dangerous or something which may be necessary for safeguarding the Dracon Continent against danger, I may have to keep it. No offense" he told the wraith. "I have no objection to you keeping any one of the components, at least."

@Aristocles

He laughs, a sound like the moaning wind. "Would not I qualify as "A danger against the Dracon Continent"? Necromancers can easily bring ruin to even the strongest of nations. They never run out of troops, and the more you try to fight them, the more powerful they become. My scythe is one of the deadliest weapons ever created. If you were to take the staff, why not the scythe? Aside from the fact that the power running through it might kill you on the spot."

The palace was quiet, as Kutur and his companion ascended the steps to the door. He was nervous already, having dodged suspicious glances shot in his direction from the city folk all the way from the gates. They'd only ever seen dracons as either enemy soldiers, domineering landlords, or contemptuous diplomats, if at all. The sight of one dressed in mage's finery was bound to set at least a few on edge. "Try to ignore them, try to ignore them," Kutur recited to himself. He knocked on the palace gates, and the door opened, to reveal one of the emperor's personal guards.

"Magister Kutur. I shall inform His Might of your presence," he said, but Kutur grabbed him before he could leave.

"Actually, I think we are more eager to see Her Mercy at the moment. Could you send for her? Don't bother the emperor at this moment. He needn't worry about us meeting." The legionnaire looked at him oddly, but shrugged and nodded.

Moments later, Ardasa came to the door, looking about as perplexed as he. "Kutur, what's wrong? Why is- oh!" she stopped, then, her gaze turning up to the dracon lady sharing the door with him. "I wasn't expecting an ambassador for many moons. Forgive me, this is quite a surprise. Are you with Hekaga, if I may ask?"
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The spy hadn't expected such a reaction from the blacksmith. He was an odd one, perhaps raised among the more southern tribes. He was no expert on southern cultures, but as far as he was concerned, they were odd in their ways, and he needn't bother trying to wrap his head around their ideas of reincarnation and balance. "You misunderstand, my esteemed friend," he said, slowly. Time to change tactics. "You are being called to serve His Might himself, the emperor of all kobold. This is an opportunity I am giving you to fight for his cause, who is the cause of all the kobolds." The common people still loved the emperor, even if doubt was beginning to permeate the higher classes. His name alone would turn many heads in these cramped neighborhoods. "His most loyal servant is in need of your service to execute His Might's will. Furthermore, you are being offered a position of wealth and power, a life more rich in luxury than hammering shovels and plowheads. I ask you . . . consider it. If you are truly curious, Commander Mardex intends to meet at the Pig Hoof Tavern on Quiet-Lake Street, at about . . . sunset." The seeds have been planted, and the spy bowed, turning to leave. Either they will take root or they won't.