“A… Cold War, then?” Tyrann was grinning a bit too brightly as he posed the question. Not because he was pleased about a conflict so much as he was proud to have recalled such a niche term in a language he rarely had cause to speak.
At the second mention of the so-called ‘High City of Zaichaer’, Tyrann’s interest was roused. That was certainly a promising mantle, if designated in truth not in irony. He parted his pale lips to pose a query, but Imogen’s further clarification voided its purpose and answered it keenly enough. Zaichaer and Kalzasi could be scratched off the list, as well. The dirt-dwellers were proving markedly disappointing in Tyrann’s estimation. Things had truly decayed since the days of Old Nepthalia.
“This seems a sound suggestion, Advisor Imogen. I shall do this.” He agreed with a firm nod to her recommendation of writing to request a formal audience of the emperor. “Are you familiar with the proper form of address, or… I’m certain I can find that out on my own, if not.” He tilted his head, bemused at the news of her personal ambitions.
“Are you not Ecithian? Forgive my ignorance, but does this imperium permit citizens of hostile nations to own property within their borders?” The incredulity with which he expressed this query bespoke disappointment in the sole serious contender on the world stage that had yet been broached amongst the landed nations.
“It is little wonder the war has gone cold, with such cavalier allowances. But this is, I suppose, to your benefit… and perhaps mine, so I will not grudge them their shortsightedness.” He noted with a smirk.
“Our chance encounter has proven most propitious, Imogen. You may serve the Seas quite well.”
At the second mention of the so-called ‘High City of Zaichaer’, Tyrann’s interest was roused. That was certainly a promising mantle, if designated in truth not in irony. He parted his pale lips to pose a query, but Imogen’s further clarification voided its purpose and answered it keenly enough. Zaichaer and Kalzasi could be scratched off the list, as well. The dirt-dwellers were proving markedly disappointing in Tyrann’s estimation. Things had truly decayed since the days of Old Nepthalia.
“This seems a sound suggestion, Advisor Imogen. I shall do this.” He agreed with a firm nod to her recommendation of writing to request a formal audience of the emperor. “Are you familiar with the proper form of address, or… I’m certain I can find that out on my own, if not.” He tilted his head, bemused at the news of her personal ambitions.
“Are you not Ecithian? Forgive my ignorance, but does this imperium permit citizens of hostile nations to own property within their borders?” The incredulity with which he expressed this query bespoke disappointment in the sole serious contender on the world stage that had yet been broached amongst the landed nations.
“It is little wonder the war has gone cold, with such cavalier allowances. But this is, I suppose, to your benefit… and perhaps mine, so I will not grudge them their shortsightedness.” He noted with a smirk.
“Our chance encounter has proven most propitious, Imogen. You may serve the Seas quite well.”
