“Meeting adjourned,” Westrisser rumbled out. His face displayed no movement, even when words passed through his lips. His cruelty held his expression to the austere limits of harshness. He didn’t even seem to blink, although those eyes swiveled across the shifting bodies to one target in particular. “Swacc, remain. We have much to discuss.”

Undersecretary Swacc remained seated as the rest of the council scurried out of the room. Most of the rest of the Council were there as figureheads, possessing even less power than he. Westrisser’s ire had smothered them all. Swacc sat up straighter in his seat, keeping his own face blank. It would not do to seem snide, or smug, during this conversation, despite the fact he had fought tooth and nail to prevent the insidious Nether King from influencing Malloon. No, Swacc readied himself to be gracious in victory. Him being proven right was no real accomplishment for him, but rather an indictment of the Nether.

Worst of all, their common foe still lurked around the city’s edge.

“You are a man of cunning,” Westrisser grunted out when the two were alone in the hall. The words echoed, casting long shadows in the empty room. “Undoubtedly, you have made careful arrangements to hack at his capabilities for the past few weeks. You may now bring these ploys out into the open. Officially, Malloon will take no stance on such actions, but you otherwise have free rein. Make Nether King Hungry Eye bleed for what he has done. Prove your worth.”

Swacc licked his lips. He felt anticipation, but Westrisser reserving official action from Malloon meant he had to find a way around a very large headache to legitimately threaten the Nether King.

With the destruction of the main thoroughfare of commerce, individuals were flocking to the two skyislands. Even some of the upper-class of Malloon made the rip out, to take advantage of the novel shopping and architecture, but also to indulge in the so-called ‘spas’ the Nether King offered. The methods of massage and cleansing products were not unknown to Swacc, but the sheer variety of products Hungry Eye came up with was somewhat intimidating. And the individualized temperature and lighting controls for every room proved to be a luxury to which these individuals very quickly grew accustomed. When they returned to the city proper, they had made increasingly pointed inquiries about how soon they could expect similar amenities.

Already, you could see the Nether King’s insidious touch on the streets by looking at the fashion. Individuals with strange haircuts and exotic dresses with slanted hems. Lizard races with each individual scale polished and every fifth scale painted an exaggerated color. Headdresses of stately feathers, provided to elderly Peregrine Serpents, who now molted more quickly than their feathers returned.

“Lord Westrisser, if I might offer a suggestion, why not insist the Nether King give up control of the skyislands,” Swacc began. “We might still allow the choice of vendor, up to a point, but if we could make the restocking periods difficult and edge out the competition-”

Swacc clicked his jaws shut. Westrisser gave him a withering glance. “This is why you remain an Undersecretary. Do you know what my most senior engineer told me when he examined the Engravings on the skyislands? That we should cede control over Malloon’s defensive barrier to a Nether King as a means to revise our entire defensive structure. The idea is horried, but I trust this man. That is how far ahead the Engravings of Nether King Hungry Eye are. Even if we could enforce the transfer of control, I doubt it would be simple. What could we do if the Nether King set down his skyislands a far distance away and announced Malloon would now be in control? The population on the skyislands would be stuck, so long as we attempted to master the Engravings. Which may take years.”

“...then we call for an expert in Engravings,” Swacc added. “To assist in the transition.”

Westrisser waved a hand. “I have made inquires. However, it isn’t feasible in the short term. Consider this a test, Swacc. You have proved able enough at functioning with a tight framework, of twisting your allies and enemies to your benefit, yet this out-of-framework Nether King has handed you nothing but defeats. If you cannot overcome this foe… Undersecretary will be all the higher you rise.”

Swacc felt Westrisser’s image burn against his skin, the pure radiance of ivory serpent’s gaze nearly suffocating him. Westrisser gracefully pushed back his chair and stood. Almost as an afterthought, he considered Swacc. “I have another meeting, which I suspect will be a bit above your current paygrade. You are dismissed, Undersecretary Swacc.”

The intensity of Westrisser’s gaze made Swacc lower his eyes and look at the table. But his heart raced for entirely other reasons. Having had his pride trampled so frequently over the past few weeks had made him slightly desperate, but despite the harshness of Westrisser’s tone, Swacc knew this would legitimately be a test. If he could succeed, he would cement his legacy in the city.

So he took a gamble.

“Even if it is above my paygrade, should I not accompany you?” Swacc said, forcing himself to raise his head and meet Westrisser’s gaze. Despite his mental preparations, he still almost flinched. Yet after biting his lip he forced his way forward. “You tell me I need to step up and prove myself. But not only need opportunities but awareness. If it does not concern any secrets, I believe more insight into your Lordship’s methods would be of great value.”

The white-winged Peregrine Serpent titled his head to the side and considered Swacc.

As the silence continued to stretch, Swacc worried he had overplayed his hand. Yet Westrisser smiled at him with respect. “You may accompany me. I suspect he is already here, although word was not sent. He is not one for theatrics.”

He?

Without another word, Lord Westrisser swept out of the room. Swacc hastily got up and followed. They proceeded deeper upstairs into Swacc’s seat of power, passing the level with the bathroom and Westrisser’s personal training quarters, until they arrived at the top floor, a place Swacc had never been to before.

The hallways here were another beast entirely, with heavy velvet rugs and thick bands of gold running along the walls. Ornate, carved candelabras stood at fixed lengths along the hallway. They passed a few closed doors and eventually took a silver inlaid oak door into a mesmerizing study. A beautiful, intricate map of the Aether and Nether territories filled the far wall, with dozens of heavy shelves cramped so close together it seemed impossible for Westrisser to peruse with his wings.

And there, standing along the far wall in front of an isolated bookshelf with ancient texts reverently spaced out along its length, stood the most powerful individual in the Aether territories, Fatia Cerulean.

Oh, Swacc tried not to gulp. Him.

“You have added little of value to your collection since last I visited, Faelmac,” The raptor construct chided while still facing the bookshelf. With its long and wickedly sharp talons, it set a scroll back on the shelf and picked up another. “It is a sign of brutishness that you cannot maintain control of the city without smothering its creativity.”

The raptor construct leader was three meters of blackened metal framework and wafting gouts of blue energy somewhere between flame and smoke. It had no flesh, just coiling, anarchistic trios of the strange substance that served as its bones. These coiling trios ended in large, bony feat and three-taloned hands, as well as a massive dinosaur skull that sat atop the whole construct. Swacc always found the torso to be the most unnerving, because the long and powerful limbs were connected by only a single twisted pillar of a spine that held everything in place.

The spine held the rest of the body aloft, borrowing more posture from anthropomorphic than the raptors for which the race was named. The pulsing, seething blue energy that drifted out from his body helped add heft to his middle, where the energy was the densest, but it gave the strange impression of the raptor construct being starving.

A starving raptor construct was the nightmare of the entire Aether lands and probably half of the Nether territories. It had been a hundred years since a Cerulean had to fight personally, but no one underestimated this monster.

“My lead engineer is currently penning a masterwork treatise regarding the benefits and limitations of the current energy conversion framework, specifically in regards to the polluted exhaust it produces,” Westrisser responded smoothly. “It is an early draft, but pushes some very interesting theories.”

“Ah, one of the Yuuyins, yes? A capable enough people, but unimaginative. Give him time to reinforce his arguments, no need to sour my outlook with disappointment too early. Perhaps he will surprise me with good sense.” Cerulean’s voice sounded surprisingly gentle, a scholar rather than a soldier. Swacc didn’t believe this for even a moment. Cerulean pivoted. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. Elhume has requested a delay in his trial, Faelmac- ah, wait, who is this?”

The domineering raptor construct tilted his bare skull to the side, seemingly noticing Swacc’s presence for the first time. Swacc opened his mouth to respond but found a seeping lassitude ensuring further movement was difficult. Weirdly, Swacc only felt a bleary confusion at the shift. Struggle seemed like an impossibility. With a leaden tongue, he licked his lips and tried to get his bearings. His eyes, moving in such slow motion even he could perceive, widened as Fatia Cerulean blurred across the room and came to tower over him. As it breathed, blue energy whispered out between its bone teeth.

Despite the impediment, Swacc’s blood ran cold at Cerulean’s words.

“For someone of your inferior pedigree, perhaps my treatment of Yuuryin’s rough thesis wasn’t enough to deduce my abhorrence for disappointment. To save you from your own tongue, I’ve ensured you will remain silent. Anyway, my examination of you would uncover more truths than you probably even know about yourself. You are welcome for this courtesy.”

When the slowing spell finally left Swacc a panting mess, the Raptor Construct didn’t even acknowledge him. He spoke lightly to Westrisser. “A being without the requisite spine to ever be first in anything. Yet capable enough to organize the rabble while the demands of true leadership requires his betters to handle business elsewhere. An apt servant, with potential.”

For the second time. The towering being’s gaze swiveled back to Swacc. It was not a Skill this time that smothered his tongue, but rare fear. The jaws of the dinosaur skull stretched into a hungry look of amusement. “Begone, little servant. What comes next is not for your ears.”

Barely able to breathe, Swacc stumbled out of the room. Before he left, however, he caught Westrisser’s eye. A flicker of amusement shone out. The same smile that originally, he had assumed had been some sort of approval. Now it revealed itself as mocking. For Swacc had chosen this, bargained for this, forced this.

The door closed in his face. He slunk off, pouring all of his bruised pride and ego into ways to take this slight out on Nether King Hungry Eye.