It had never come up, as while the Black Wall had been raised before, its function had always been permitted to run its course naturally. “To remove the wall altogether and so suddenly would be foolish, it would force too many hands. The war would start right back up all over again and who knows how many Exclusion Zone situations we'd have on our hands then, even if the Inheritors would be entirely justified in such desperate action.”

“That… Hm… Yes, I suppose it’s plausible, I had not considered such an option,” conceded the Black-robed Brother. “It IS true that, were the wall to be entirely removed as a factor, lesser forces within the Empire may take foolish action or even attempt to destroy the Ikesian territories altogether, thus causing yet more volatile recourse from both the Inheritors and the likes of the Merchants of Menace.”

So it was that, for once, the brothers agreed on something, both well aware that the other’s acquiescence only meant that some new, yet more convoluted scheme was afoot. Only… The Black-robed Brother clearly held in store tribulations more severe than merely opening up the gates a little bit.

However, the White-robed Brother had one more thing to say, and a grim countenance came about him as his face hardened and his voice spoke of true atrocity: “Hedan. Do not misunderstand my intentions. I will not permit you to turn our works against the Inheritors without my knowledge, never again. Should you once more attempt something so foolish as setting loose the unfettered wrath of the Suncage Grid upon a people just because their fundamental ideology goes counter to your own, I will not hesitate to scour you so thoroughly from this world that not even your archetype will reincarnate, I will capture your Dying Breath and burn it to heat my tea, do you understand?”

“You would doom us both for some mortals?!” laughed the younger brother indignantly, but the surprise and amusement evaporated when his elder’s gaze only hardened. Hedan was serious and angry by nature, but when Wodan’s ever present aura of levity vanished, it was as if the heavens themselves darkened. From an indignant question, Hedan instantly moved to trying to justify his past actions, “Come now, surely you know that my intentions were not merciless extermination! Had I intended to wipe out the Hyperboreans, I would have aimed the Finger of the Sun at one of their population centers or a fault line in the ice sheet! I’ve told you a thousand times that my intentions were to ensure that they wouldn’t excavate one of the Fallen Heavenly Vessels, lest you forget that even we know not whence they originate.”

“I don’t care about your excuses. Even if a drastic course of action was justified, the mere POSSIBILITY of genocide is unacceptable. If our options are allowing the Inheritors to unearth truly ancient arkatek beyond even our expertise or denying them that jumpstart at risk of catastrophe, the latter is not a choice at all - I will personally make sure of that, even if I must embody a false deity to do so.”

Zel’s Monday was spent partly dealing with new recruits, at least those who she was confident would be a good fit and thus wished for them to join as soon as possible. The Mercenary, Jorfr, and - much as she disliked him - Halxian, were all functionally guaranteed. Among the dossiers, the most notable ones were an Islander by the name of Mata Gano, an Ikesian called Fendas, and a Kargarian named Vaceran, noted to have no arms.

She’d spent a short while sparring with Jorfr in an effort to tease out a usable defensive application of her Core of Earthly Iron, and though she managed to achieve limited localized hardening, her physical fatigue quickly caught up and she had to call it quits after a mere hour and a half of on-off sparring. While she was more annoyed than anything, Jorfr seemed to appreciate the break, saying that this was more than sufficient to rouse his hunger, and that were she anyone else, he might think she was trying to kill him.

Being that she still had to spend a decent bit of time on recovery, she decided to run the errand circuit and contact the standout candidates, intending to recruit them if possible, but before she could get around to that, the groundskeeper approached her with a letter in hand, wordlessly handing it over before he shuffled off.

It was a summons from the governor for the same time frame on any day of the week, though it urged her to stop by as soon as possible, and that the governor had important matters to discuss regarding the upcoming blue moon event.

As much as Zefaris enjoyed sparring with Zel, keeping up with her counterpart was trying at the best of times, and when it came to direct physical sparring, her own physicality was simply not up to snuff, plain and simple. Exhaustion be damned, Zel just wouldn’t agree to rest until she spent some time trying to draw out the power of those so-called “earthly spirits”. Thus, Jorfr’s presence was more than appreciated - the tundrastrider was a perfect match for Zelsys, to the point that watching them spar gave one the impression of a violent dance rather than actual combat.

So it was that, while Zel and Jorfr were busy beating the tar out of each other, Zef borrowed the Sturmgandr to visit Collier’s at the gunsmith’s behest via a letter, noticing armored cargo tractors exiting a street that she knew led to the back of the gunsmith’s building. When she reached the main street, Zef also noticed something entirely new. New, and… Recognizable, though she wasn’t sure how. She could’ve sworn she had seen it in the sect.

It was a metal, yellow-painted box half again as tall as her, with a glyphic glass window spanning half of its front, alongside a receptacle at the bottom and some mechanical controls to the side.