a champion born

[Talon]

T A L O N

Searing 48, 122 Steel

Talon tugged on the heavy leather boots, rolling his ankle ensuring that they were a good fit. He rose to his feet and extended his arms as two Kathar knights stepped forward. They assisted him in getting the smooth undershirt on his torso. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and dipped his head so that he could push his head through the neck of the shirt. Carefully, the Kathar knights assisted him in tying the back-sashes, allowing his wings to be unimpeded. When the shirt was situated, he extended his arms wordlessly. Almost reverently, the Kathar assisted him into the breastplate. It fit over his form perfectly without pinching or impeding his movement. He held up his hand and watched without comment as plate gauntlets were slid onto his hands. He clenched each hand into a fist and relaxed them to make sure they fit appropriately. There was no hitch in movement. There was no discomfort.

In short order, Talon had the pauldrons, arm plates, back plates, chausses and greaves in place. He went through the process all without a single word. He had no words to give. No words had been given to him. He had been instructed to complete the armor. He had been told to don the armor and inform them if there was any discomfort or pain. There would be none. He had worked on the armor to the absolute highest caliber of his skill both as a runesmith and a divine. The armor had even been modified to adapt to his Avialae anatomical requirements and had even received the added modification of being able to shift in texture, appearance, and density as instructed. This ensured that he would never have to doff the armor. It would simply reshape itself on his body for when he needed to bathe, such as condensing to become a pair of bracers, a collar, or to become cloth, leather, or plate as required.

The armor was largely formless and without personality, much like Talon was in that moment. He had no thoughts of his own except what he had been told to think about. When finally he was dressed, he turned to look at a brown haired man with fire that flickered softly in his eyes. There was a pained expression on his face as it flickered between grieved and sad. Dimly Talon felt…something stir inside of him. It was a strange sensation for which he had no description. He simply stared at the man, awaiting his next instruction.

----

“Is anything uncomfortable?” Aoren placed his hands, letting them rest at the small of his back. His raven wings were folded comfortably.

“No.” One word. It was a response but it held neither emotion nor life in it. Talon had been like this for days. The sight of him moving, speaking, and staring at the world with lifeless apathy had struck him with such soul-deep horror and disgust it…it had filled him with such revulsion that he could not withhold the emotional outburst that had followed. He had whirled on his handler and made his horror known. Seeing the man he loved, the bondmate of his soul, utterly drained of everything that made Talon him had been harrowing. After being forced to calm himself down, he had turned his attention on Talon. He had spent every waking moment with him since then.

When Talon was not working the forge, he had to instruct him to eat, to drink, to rest. It broke his heart to see him so devoid of passion. But he had tended to him faithfully.

“Is he ready?” Aoren looked to the Inquisitor who spoke up. He cast one more look at Talon’s expressionless face.

“Yes.” Stepping forward, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of his husband’s face. Before tucking it behind Talon’s ear, he rubbed it between his fingers. That had been another shock. Talon’s hair had turned a complete silvery white. The deep blue-black of his hair was nowhere in sight. He imagined it was part of the trauma of what had been done to him. Another reminder of what the man had been put through. What both of them had suffered. Gently he began instructing Talon on how to position himself until the both of them were standing at the ready. When the doors opened, he relaxed his jaw.

It was done. The Imperium got what it wanted and he hated them all the more for it.

[Mirage]

The sound of a cane preceded the man who both Aoren and Talon knew to expect. Archbishop Franz slowly limped into the room, the frown plastered on his eternally dissatisfied features. The Inquisitor who had filled the room before quietly filed out, the door closing behind them, leaving only 4 people in the room: Talon, Aoren, the Archbishop and the same robed assistant carrying the rotting box in his arms.

The Archbishop came to a stop just a few feet from Talon, and he looked on the taller man with open contempt.

"It was inevitable." The words rang hollow and empty in the large room. Franz sighed and looked at Aoren and then back at Talon, "This is what becomes of those who resist in vain. What was the point of your suffering? Of your Kathar's suffering? What did these last six months gain you?"

The armor did not reflect the light from the glass behind Talon. It perfectly moded to fit his every contour, like it was made from him, and the modifications Talon himself made only served to enhance the affect. The black of the metal was entrancing, pulling in the gaze and consuming light like the void itself. Archbishop Franz stared at the armor of the chest plate for several long seconds before finally extending his hand back toward the other robed figure. The artifact was placed into open palm, and with a flick of his thumb he raised it up before Talon's eyes and a stream of silver steam was released.

The steam flowed into Talon, and color soon returned to the gods world. He could feel the humidity of the air on his skin, the touch of light on his back. The presence of Aoren at his side was like a fire to every fiber of his being, and a flood of thoughts, emotions and sensations cascaded into Talon's mind and soul, all collected and condensed over the last several days. Every moment of anger, every thought of despair, every moat of sadness was felt all at once. Tiredness, aches, hunger and thirst. Everything that Talon had experienced was returned to him in an overwhelming tidal wave.

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[Talon]

T A L O N

The rush of emotions flooded into him and Talon’s knees buckled with the weight of it all. He gasped, stumbling forward and reaching up to clutch his head as he curled into a ball. The muscles of his neck bulged as he fought the urge to scream in rage, anger, pain, hunger, longing, and so many other things that he thought his mind might fracture from it all. Across the Bond, he felt Aoren reach into him and take hold of this flood to the best of his ability. It was far too much all at once to truly stop but Aoren served as a rock in turbulent waters that Talon clung to. The strain of it caused them both to break out into a cold sweat. He was not sure how long he lay there, crumpled on the floor as he collected himself. Finally, he gasped, drawing in a breath as if he had been starved of air. His chest heaved. His whole body shook. The wet streak of tears, shed in pained silence as he was overcome, stained his face.

Wordlessly, Aoren knelt down and wrapped an arm around his waist, slinging Talon’s arm over his shoulder. Still shaking, Talon rose to his feet. As he did, the armor on his body shimmered like liquid flowing over his form. It shifted and warped until it fit his body snugly, becoming a form-fitting suit that complimented his physique and matched the radiance of his inner character. Talon looked down as it flowed over his body evoking another shiver. He was trapped. He was bound more tightly than even the chains that had kept him tethered to the chapel floor or the expansive runic markings on the stone.

More than that however, Talon felt something that had been missing, click into place. He reached up and rubbed his temple with a gauntleted hand, his brow furrowing. Knowledge flooded his brain, blossomed in his soul, and presented itself in fragmented pieces. There were things he knew, old things, Ancient Ways, knowledge that would have helped him free himself and Aoren much sooner if that knowledge had been allowed to synchronize with his mind and soul. He realized with growing rage just how much had gone into suppressing him. He had been robbed of this, he had been robbed of so much that should have been there for him to witness and see.

What made it even worse was that he now had full understanding that it was too late. They had not only bound him, they had forced him to forge the final link in his chain, and had gone so far as to ensure he had improved it. He stared at the archbishop with a renewed hatred. The ferocity of it made even his bondmate shrink away from their link. He cooled himself and let out a breath before giving the archbishop a smile. It was not a nice smile.

“I am certain you will soon find out exactly what I have gained from these last six months.” He met the man's gaze steadily, unblinking, for an uncomfortable amount of time. He would continue to stare until the archbishop was forced to either look away or blink.

[Mirage]

"Still defiant." The archbishop sniffed, meeting Talon's eye for several seconds. Eventually, he turned away, putting his back to both Talon and Aoren, "Good."

His words were calm, but there was a slight tremble in the man's hands as he leaned on his cane. Likely it was due to age, and the weariness that came with it. Franz was certain of that. With a motion, the assistant stepped forward and the relic was returned to its case. There was no verbal command, but suddenly there came an urge to follow the retreating back of the Archbishop as he made his way slowly out of the room that had been Talon's prison all these months.

"As promised, you are freed from your chains and your Kathar returned to you. The Empire always fulfills its obligations." Through the doors they were led into a hallway that was barely wide enough to allow them all to walk in single file. To the left were stairs leading upward, and the right leading down. They took the right path and began a slow climb to the bottom of the tower. Each floor they passed had a single door, some grand like the one that held Talon, others simple and plane. At the bottom, it was a simple door that lead them outside, and at last, Talon was able to see the open sky once more.

It was late afternoon. The sun was not visible within the forest of tall towers that was the Palace of Spires. Overhead groups of winged Kathar flew in formation, all in various but similar uniforms. The path they walked was paved with smooth stone, and the grounds were green and well kept. Despite what one might expect, trees grew tall throughout the palace grounds, creating small circles with fountains and pathways leading to them at intervals. Flowers were in bloom, birds chirped as insects went about their business as usual. Uniformed men in green livery were tending the gardens and flower beds, seeming content despite the heat of the day.

"You are summoned for an audience with the Emperor. I would suggest keeping that defiance properly restrained." The Archbishop leads them toward one of the largest structures on the Palace grounds. It looked like a manor with 4 floors, tall towers that ended with severe spikes at each of the corners.

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[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon said nothing as the archbishop made his observation. He did however notice the slight shake to his hands as he grasped his cane. He felt the compulsion to follow along and he did not fight it. He raised a hand, running it along the expanse of Aoren’s arm then followed along. As he came to the doors to the room that had served as his prison for such a long time, Talon felt a moment’s hesitation. He was crossing the threshold and into the unknown. Perhaps it would be an arduous unknown, perhaps it would be an easier one. He did not know. It was a change from what he had known for the past several months. He felt the small tug, took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway. He made no outward comment as to the archbishop’s words. The empire fulfilled what it wanted to, when it was convenient and fell according to its plans. He felt Aoren fall into step behind him. He tucked his wings in closer so that they were not dragging along the walls. When at last they reached the bottom of the stairs and out into the outdoors, Talon let out a breath he had not realized that he had been holding.

Though the sun was not visible, he still felt the warmth of its light upon his skin. For the first time in six months, he felt a tightness in his chest unfurl. As always, the light seemed to seek him out, wrapping around his form and embracing him in the warmth of the summer day. Any who happened to be staring at him as he walked into the courtyard would have seen the silver of his feathers become ever so slightly more lustrous as the light revitalized him. The silver-white of his irises became softer and more mercurial, shining with an inner light that would not be dampened. The light of his nimbus shimmered into manifestation for just a moment before falling back behind the veil of his mortal guise.

At the news that he was being summoned for an audience with the Emperor of the Gelerian Imperium, Talon found himself steadying his nerves. The politics of noble courts was something he was accustomed to. However, dealing with the sovereign of the empire was another matter entirely. He did not know the dynamics of Imperial politics, though he could make educated guesses concerning them. Much like his own father, Talon expected that the emperor was not a man who faced the minutia of the day to day running of the empire. That was likely left to a swath of ministers and officials that administered things in his name. Talon had occupied a role that saw him see to more fine details of the running of both his family’s affairs and the affairs of Kalzasi.

He followed the archbishop through the gardens until they reached the large manor. The Palace of Spires was an impressive structure from what he had seen, larger than the Palace of the First Wind certainly and possessed a gothic architecture.

“I believe the Emperor will decide what is proper of me in his presence. Nevertheless, the etiquette of a royal court is not lost on me, archbishop.” Talon was well aware of the fact that Franz was, in comparison to the emperor, a mere underling. He knew enough about the empire’s structure to know that the Imperial Sovereign held absolute authority and that his authority was delegated out of necessity in order to govern. He would step into the role he had been groomed for all of his life, even if that role was likely far out of his reach by this point.

[Mirage]

The Archbishop made a chuckling sound, somehow scratchy and wet at the same time, but he did not reply to Talon's words. As they made their way up to the manor the door was opened for them by two Kathar who stood on either side. Over the threshold, the interior of the building was oddly plain. The walls were bare of any tapestries or portraits, and no rugs covered the cold grey stone that was shown with polish from a recent cleaning. The first floor seemed to be a singular room that was filled with pedestals and glass boxes that displayed items of some import to the empire. A cracked vase with an oddly shaped chicken painted on its surface, books in varying stages of decay, a crown with no gems, a statue of a headless dog, the items ranged from the exquisite to the grotesque, and to the simply odd.

On the left side of the room was a rounded area of wall which slid back to reveal a small hollow. Here the attendant left them, taking the box in his arms toward the back of the room while the Archbishop lead Aoren and Talon inside the little room. Once inside the doors slide shut, and a sensation of movement followed for several seconds. When the doors opened again they were now on a different floor, the view from the nearest window revealing they had reached the 3rd floor in fact and were greeted by a large circular desk at the center of the room. This floor seemed dedicated to records as there were shelves of books, scrows, and lore stones as far as the eye could see. The man at the desk looked up as they entered, the emblem on his chest revealing he was a royal scribe of equal rank to the Archbishop himself.

"You're late." the man behind the desk said, checking a watch on the table before staring at the Archbishop with open dissatisfaction. "The appointment was for 1600. It is now 15:57."

Wordlessly the Archbishop slid a sheet of paper to the clerk, who picked it up and examined it with thick-lensed glasses. Taking a small stamp from a drawer he pressed a seal into the paper which quickly changed from black to blue. Seemingly satisfied the clerk sighed and motioned with one hand toward a set of stairs to the right of the desk.

"Go up the stairs and wait quietly in front of the doors. Do not speak until spoken to, do not kneel, do not gawk, and whatever you do, always refer to his greatness as Emperor, no matter what he bid you call him." His gaze turned on Aoren and Franz, "You two will wait here."

"Yes yes, of course." the older man said with a sigh. He then looked at Talon and Aoren, "Your Kathar will be safe. We will wait for your return with bated breath."

He then turned and began walking deeper into the archives, not waiting to see if Aoren would follow. Though his words were calm, there was an edge of annoyance to his body language, and his cane hit the floor ever so slightly harder than necessary. The clerk did don't spare another look for the Archbishop and sat down to return to his work.

Talon was then free to walk up the stairs that made a slow spiral upward to the 4th and final floor of the building. Once at the top he would be greeted with a large set of double doors which stood many times higher than he was tall and twice the span of his own wings. The ceiling of the 4th floor was far higher than the outside would lead one to believe. The door itself was plain, without design or adornment, and not long after Talon arrived they would swing open soundlessly to reveal a large room as barren as the rest of the manor.

Large windows ran along the two opposite walls, each showing a different view. One showed the gardens of the Reichtum, another was an overhead view of the entire city, and another showed a building of stone in the middle of a blizzard. On the first floor, there were no decorations, nor rugs or tapestries. The polished stone was a muted grey color and a raised dais at the back wall held only a large silver chair whose back stretched almost to the ceiling. In that chair sat a man in military regalia that showed no emblems, bands, or adornments that might give clue to the man's rank. His clothing was pressed and wrinkle-free, his shoes shown in the afternoon sun that came through a skylight above. His hair was streaked with grey at the temples, but his beard was solid black and neatly trimmed. On his right was a table with several items. A chalice, a silver book bound in iron, and a rusty knife.

When Talon walked in the man did not look up. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped and eyes closed as if in thought. He remained that way for several minutes before finally opening his eyes to look at Talon. The yellow irises gave him a hawk-like glare that increased the intensity of his gaze as he looked Talon up and down, tracing the line of the armor with his eyes before straightening his back and resting his hands on the arms of the throne.

"Prince Talon Novalys, God of Justice, Light, and Hope. Arcas reborn anew." His voice was deep and resonating in the empty room and carried a weight of power that few mortals could withstand. There was no magical or spiritual pressure, but perhaps a feeling of the vastness of the man himself. An absolute authority, confidence that would not be shaken. The Emperor inclined his head ever so slightly, barely a nod in Talon's direction, but the act itself would have made the Archbishop go ashen.

"Thank you for coming here. You are welcomed by the Empire." and the words rang with more truth than seemed possible. Talon stood before the embodiment of the Imperium itself, and he had greeted the man with more honor than he would give his highest subordinate. He then fell silent, looking expectantly at Talon.

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[Talon]

T A L O N

He followed the archbishop into the manor. Whatever Talon had been expecting the interior to look like, what he saw was not what first came to mind. His eyes roamed over the many grotesque, odd, and ornate objects that lined the room. He had to wonder if any of them were of the Relics of the Imperium. The thought made him glance at the box that contained the Spike of Argis and a shiver passed through him. He tucked his wings closer. The movement drew Aoren’s attention, prompting his husband to run a hand along the arm of his nearest wing. It was a comforting gesture but there was little comfort to be had. He followed the archbishop into the small hollow. Lifts were not unfamiliar to him. Kalzasi employed many in order to accommodate the citizens who did not possess the ability to fly. When they reached the third floor, this was a floor that truly captivated him.

Rows upon rows of books, scrolls and lorestones went as far as he could see. He paused, openly admiring the many shelves and cases that contained knowledge he could not even begin to guess at. All the gold, wealth, and jewels in the world could have been assembled in front of him and Talon would not have bat an eye but here, this was where he was beheld wonder and was impressed. Every shelf was meticulously kept. The room was spotless and not a single book, scroll or stone was out of place or haphazardly thrown. There was a distinct care that had gone into tending to the priceless treasure that was in this room. As he reconciled the overall decor of the manor he had seen thus far, he found himself wondering if this was a reflection of the man whom he was about to meet. If that was the case, his impression of what the sovereign of the Imperium was like, was now drastically altered. A man who flaunted wealth frivolously would have made him sneer in contempt. A man who placed that wealth into something useful, such as knowledge, gave him pause for concern. A belligerent tyrant would have been easy to understand. Talon was beginning to grasp that perhaps the emperor was not quite so easy to understand as that.

That, more than anything, scared him.

He looked to the royal scribe observing the exchange between the archbishop and the clerk. There was a slight arching of his brow as he watched the archbishop be scolded. When the command for the two to remain had been given, he was taken slightly aback. He was to meet the emperor alone? Part of him had expected that Aoren be made to stay but he had at least been expecting the archbishop to accompany him. Again, his expectations were subverted. He stood there, hesitant. Aoren stepped up to him then. His husband brought their brows together and while no words were exchanged, the two of them merely breathed. He brought his hands up to grasp Aoren’s wrists, feeling the Kathar’s warm hands up his face. One deep breath. One steady exhalation. They parted, staring into each other’s eyes for but a moment more before Talon made his ascension up the stairs.

There must have been a thousand thoughts that spun through his head between that first step and his approach to the towering doors. He could not have spoken any of them aloud because they were all too much and too little to grasp. Talon watched as the doors opened and revealed the interior of the room. His eyes drifted to the windows. All of them were clearly enchanted to give the observer a view of different things. As an enchanter himself, he could imagine the process that had gone into making them even without using Semblance to study them.

He came to a stop exactly six paces from the towering silver throne upon which a man sat. There had been no herald announcing arrivals. There were no guards in the room that he could see. There was only him.

The Emperor of the Gelerian Imperium.

He realized, he did not even know the emperor’s name. He was a handsome man with a stern patrician face. He radiated command and authority. Even with his eyes closed, Talon could tell that many things dwelled on this man’s mind. Heavy was the head that wore the crown, as the saying went. He glanced briefly at the chalice, the book and the rusty dagger. The book, he recognized. He had seen it in his vision the day his moment of clarity had returned. When the emperor straightened, opening his eyes. His yellow irises stuck out against the simplistic design of everything around him. Talon resisted the urge to tip his chin back and stand taller. He felt seen by those eyes. Perhaps that was because of everything he had been through these past several months or perhaps it was simply the man himself, but one look into those sharp yellow eyes and Talon knew, he knew that whatever conceptions he had about the sovereign of the Imperium, they were best discarded.

Whatever or whoever he had been expecting to meet, this was not that man.

“Emperor.” He gave an inclination of his head and a slight bow of the waist, crossing his hand across his chest to touch his palm against his heart. He straightened and met the emperor’s gaze steadily. His greeting was more than confusing. The geniality of it was disarming. So he responded in kind.

“Strange are the customs of the empire, if these many months were meant to make me feel welcome.” Altered though his perceptions of the emperor were, he would not beat around the bush. To do otherwise would have been an insult to both of them. But though his words were pointed, his tone remained respectful.

[Mirage]

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, and then cracked a small smile. His eyes left Talon to look out one of the windows which showed a small town in the countryside. Farmlands spread to the horizon, and smoke from chimneys turned the yellow light of the sun red as dusk fast approached.

"What is a man, to a god?" He finally asked. It was a rhetorical question, and the Emperor held up a hand to forestall any reply.

"To an ant, a man might seem much like a god. Large, mighty, unending in their life, impossible their deeds. Does the ant try to invite man into their home? No, but ants must live in the territories of man whether they wish to or not. This can lead to conflict, which the ant has no hope of winning. Let us say the ant wishes to speak with man, to seek peace for their kind and protection from the power man wields. What must he do?" Looking down at Talon he pointed to himself, and then to Talon, "He must find a way to communicate as equals, for to man an ant is something which can be destroyed at will and on a whim. This is a chasm which separates the two, and so they cannot have a meaningful discussion. The ant cannot stand at the level of man, so instead the ant must bring the man to the level of an ant.

"It is presumptuous of the ant to assume that man would desire to speak with them, but to save their kind and protect themselves, what other choice is there? Risk antagonizing man and earning his wrath, or do nothing and live in fear that one day man will grow tired of the ants continued existence. There is no right answer, but an answer must be given."

Breathing out a sigh the Emperor shook his head, "I ask that you forgive this ant for the trouble he has caused you, but to talk as we must I could not allow an imbalance between us. Though it may be cruel, it is the role of the Emperor to suffer the necessary evils for his people. If you must assign blame, then put your wrath squarely on my shoulders."

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[Talon]

T A L O N

He listened as the emperor spoke, giving his analogy. There was a flaw in the logic that was being presented. He remembered in vivid detail the weave of the armor he had been bound to. It was a device meant to not only restrain him but to control him. He had seen the fullest depths of its magic and how he had been forced to intertwine his very essence to it so that no matter how strong he was, physically, spiritually, mentally or through the means of arcane, he himself would never be able to break free of it. That did not make them equals.

Many were the atrocities that the empire had committed. They continued to commit them. Slaves. The Kathar. The eradication of the Dawnmartyr Order. Talon could very well see himself one day coming into conflict with the Imperium even if he had been left to himself and his people in the Northlands of Karnor to deal with Zaichaer and its petty politics. At the time, he had simply been naive enough to believe that distance made him less of an immediate threat to the empire. Evidently, the man in front of him believed otherwise and had taken steps to eliminate the threat he represented before it could become a greater one.

“In Kalzasi, we have the Korihane. The Icewing phoenixes. As a boy, I once asked my father why the Avialae in our might, did not simply domesticate them. We certainly had the means to subdue their wild spirit. With just a handful of the great birds, we are able to rule the skies of Karnor. He showed me the power of his own phoenix, a great bird that could summon a blizzard powerful enough to blanket the skies and rain down spears of ice that could cut through the thickest armor. It could freeze a man in place and shatter him in the same breath.” Talon looked out one of the windows to see the scene that played out beyond it. It was a picture of the city from a view of the sky. A part of him stared at the skies with longing. He yearned to stretch his wings and fly far and wide. He brushed the thought aside and continued.

“Then he showed me the aviary where we nursed the sick and injured birds back to health. They looked broken and miserable. I could not reconcile them with the majestic phoenix that I had just witnessed. Our healers worked tirelessly and quickly to bring them back to health so that they could fly free again. They took every care to make them comfortable and happy. Still, they were wilted and only truly rejuvenated when released. And that is when he told me,” He met the emperor’s eyes with an unshaking stare. “A cage is still a cage, no matter how gilded. Take away their spirit and they lose what makes them worthwhile to begin with.”

He brought his hands up to look over the armor that covered his body.

“I am not your equal, Emperor.” He dropped his hands and met the sovereign’s gaze. “I am your prisoner.”

He let that settle in the air for a moment before speaking again.

“Why have you brought me here?”

[Mirage]

The Emperor leaned forward as Talon began to tell his own story, nodding slowly as he stared unblinkingly into Talon's eyes with open interest. When Talon finished he sat back, a contemplative expression showing on his features. He did not speak for some time.

"Your father, Savien, was a wise man and an excellent Shokaze." he said at last, "I heard what was said of him in your courts in his final days. The Daizoku were fools to think him weak or cowardly. His loss is a great blow to Kalzasi and the Karnor region. Soon those who thought ill of him will know why."

The words were said humbly and without scorn or contempt. There was genuine respect in the Emperor's eyes and body language when he spoke of Talon's father, and he seemed saddened by his passing. That, however, was as far as the emotions went.

"We are all prisoners in one way or another." The Emperor said with little sympathy, "As you seem to respect directness, I shall be forthright with you. I have brought you here to be my hand in the world, to stop a series of disasters that will bring about death and destruction on a level not seen since the Rift Wars eons ago.

"Though your circumstances are regrettable, I and my predecessor before me have come to realize the limitation of the mortal initiative. So instead a new path has to be forged to carry out the Imperial Mandate."

Here the Emperor paused, watching for Talon's next reaction with an unreadable expression.

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