Legend of Ransera

Searing 45, 122 - Midday

Franky sat in the back of the wagon, his legs hanging over, as he kept a vigilant eye on the road at their back. His shield was on his back, his sword belted beneath it. Next to him was his travel pack, minimal, much like his days as a soldier. The wagon was being driven by an old man, a farmer Franky had met a few seasons prior. Him and his family's farm had survived the initial storms, and Franky had reached out to him to provide transport to Zeraphesh.

The man was reluctant, but when Franky told him the purpose of the trip, he relented.

Lyra had passed on word to Kalzasi on behalf of Franky. He had told her about his knowledge of Prince Talon's whereabouts, about his knowledge of the person who had orchestrated it, and his own participation in the back end of the plot. He made sure to emphasize his own role in this, as a means of both showing the seriousness of his claims and taking responsibility for his own actions. He was sure that might strike their curiosity.

But also, Franky had word sent to the Bank, reaching out to Ferra, whom he'd worked closely with at Zaichaer's branch. The very same woman he'd warned about the incoming storm. By bringing the international bank to the very same table as himself and Kalzasi, he built himself credibility and standing.

And with him in the wagon, was Captain Myles Arnett, of the Zaichaeri military. The highest ranking survivor of the military that Franky had been able to find in the chaos. Franky had convinced Myles to come as a representative of the military. He was not near as high ranking or influential as Franky had hoped, but Franky had confidence his presence would add for some weight.

It helped that the Presidium was nothing but a grave yard and the armies were still in the field.

The farmer spoke over his shoulder, "City gates up ahead."

Franky looked over his shoulder, seeing the black glassy gates of Zeraphesh. Normally he'd take the time to appreciate the beauty of the craftmanship. But not today. Franky lit up a cigarette, closing his eyes as the wagon bounced along. They stopped at that guard house, and after a quick search, they were waved through.

The wagon made its way through Zeraphesh's streets, stopping at a tavern across from a beautiful building of marble and stained glass. Franky hopped out of the wagon, "Thanks, Hortund. Enjoy the tavern, we might be a while."

Franky looked up at the building. The House of Stained Glass, as indicated by the contact sent back from Kalzasi. Franky did not know Zeraphesh, but Hortund did, it was one of the places he delivered his ale. Franky did not see any obvious guards but that did not mean there weren't any. Franky looked over at Myles, "Ready?"

And once Myles agreed, he started to and through the doors, not sure just who he'd meet on the other side.

Franky...


The man was full of surprises, the man seemed to truly have Zaichaer's heart in mind in all his doings. That made him all the more an anomaly to Myles, by all rights he had every right to feel otherwise than he did about the city. Still time for such discussions would come. He'd been pressed by the man to come as a representative of the Zaichaer military, an idea he quailed at, speaking was not his strong suit nor something he'd ever given too much credence to. Still he couldn't turn down a chance to secure the future of his homeland.

So he came, in tow was the child he'd found after the blast. She didn't want to stay in the city if he wasn't going to be with her. Rather than argue with a tantrum he acquiesced. Having returned to the Arnnett Manor now that his father was dead... or missing he reminded himself. He'd been able to return and acquire some old possessions of his. That and dress from his fathers wardrobe. The old warhawk had all manner of decorated suits with golden braids and ribbons.


Among them was a smart all black suit with silver trim. Humble in color but the fabric was second to none. Donning the sharp coal slacks and polished boots Myles frowned intensely in the mirror when he realized he was growing to look more and more like his father in his younger years. Still a suit was a suit and black felt apt, it was a time of mourning after all. That, and the bronze executioners blade that his family had passed down. It was decorated with a red leather handle and small ruby in the pommel.

Of all the small blessings one was that his home and the surrounding area had been relatively untouched, the gated communities still mostly stood, even if many now were devoid of sons and fathers. Among the things that stood was his favorite candy store, and ever the creature of habit he'd little choice to give the store his patronage as soon as he realized it was still open. Procuring a couple pounds of taffy and a bag of hard candies that he shared with the girl on the condition that she not be obstructive in any way to the situation at hand. Bribing the girl to be quiet even tho she had not spoken a single word since he had found her after the explosion. He didn't even yet know the child's name and felt that it wasn't yet his place to just bestow a name on her. She had nodded at his request, and she was in no way too depressed to enjoy candy it seemed, so at least he was confident the child's heart was intact. With that, they left to meet their benefactor, the owner of the Hobbled gobler and all around mysterious individual.


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So they sat in the wagon, Myles and the child with the aether scar, who now both steadily worked at the supply of taffy during the trip. He couldn't get rid of the iron ball in his stomach so he'd pad it with sugar. The idea of what was coming unnerved him, anyone else from his line could have served this role better than he. Gambling on the once warrior, once bartender, he traveled with to be as savvy as he appeared benevolent Myles hoped that his presence would be the primary requirement of him. Remembering what his father had told him he frowned at the man's ability to impart information regardless of his want to absorb it. “Talk little, speak in terms hard to misconstrue when you do. Listen five times the amount that you speak, each sentence should roll in your head before it ever reaches your tongue boy.” Regrettably it was the best advice he had to go on.

When the time came to depart Myles did his best to let go his fears and prepare to make as good an impression he could. The girl at his side a hand on his sleeve or coat towing behind. As far as appearances go, her's was one difficult to ignore and in some ways would get across some of the horror that had befallen their fair city in ways words could not. “I supposes I'm as ready as I can be mister Franky.” he said, summoning a lopsided smile.


When they came to the doors and they were greeted Myles was glad he'd taken the hit to his ego and worn his fathers suit rather than any of his own. The place reeked of class in ways even most socialites of Zaichaer failed to summon. Drawn in by the greeter at the door Myles and the girl with him both stared about in similar awe. Still it felt as if the hair on his neck was standing, this place, and the people in it, gave him an impression that he was surrounded by magic, and that he was not in much of a place to do anything about it.

Finally faced with their hosts Myles found it hard not to be impressed by the opulence before him. He did not like his odds now, neither in terms of word nor sword, against these people and again found himself questioning his role here. Still he would have to introduce himself.

"I am Major Myles James Arnnett, I have come with no ill intent and I too claim good faith, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Despite the difference in size Myles looked straight on meeting the gaze of any who would lock eyes with him his demeanor placid and stony. The girl beside him seemed similarly cowed, but with the power of strwberry hard candies she too stood her ground silently gripping his sleeve all the while.

Franky did not adorn himself in the finer threads he'd purchased from Lilliaman's for this meeting. He wish Major Myles had not done so himself, but he was not one to dictate the man's wardrobe. Franky was in the same white linen shirt and slacks he wore when managing his tavern or fighting monsters in the streets. This was not a time for saving face or putting on airs. What Franky was doing now was treasonous against the Zaichaeri government, if any of it still existed. He had taken it upon himself to be a diplomat to another nation, and not any nation, but one that Zaichaer was actively at war with. If he had done that in the Imperium, execution would've been the beginning of his problems. He figured such would be the same in Zaichaer if anyone with authority was still alive.

Hell, even Myles here had the authority to cut Franky down for this treason.

A Lysanrin man greeted the trio from Zaichaer, and Franky nodded, "Thank you," following the man. Through an ornate hallway and a lavish pair of doors, and into an oasis of life and grandeur. Franky could appreciate their style under normal circumstances but for now his mind was calloused against niceties. Franky quickly sized up those who had answered his call, he assumed. He was wading into waters unknown now. He had put a lot of trust into Lyra, but so far, Lyra had always held up her end of the agreements Franky had made with her. For better or worse. Franky tried not to think about what she truly meant about "the rest of Zaichaer" when he came to her for help the day before the storm. He knew, but now was not the time to dwell.

So many dealings and negotiations, that was the world Franky lived in now. Any delusions of retirement, of settling down were gone. He truly was going to be what he had been groomed to be his entire life. A leader. Just not for the Imperium.

Franky cast his eyes on Karam's, for he sounded to be Kalzasi's representative. "I am Franky, of Zaichaer, known to the Imperium as Frankorg of Risea." Franky did not have his usual smile or charm at the severity of these talks that were just beginning. "We have little left save for the good faith we bring and the Hope that we can bring back."

Time to commit another act of treason, to Sacrifice the safety of his family in the Imperium for keeping a secret. But this was bigger than them, and Franky would bear the pain should anything happen to any of them. And knowing the Imperium, it certainly would. "I thank you for answering my request for talks. I will first offer you a gift. I do not know the state of your intelligence in the world, but know that appropriate due diligence will support what I will say, and the weight of the cost it means to me. Know that what I tell you is very likely to result in the deaths of myself, those I love, and possibly anyone else who knows this information, so please, be strong enough to protect those around you."

Franky took a deep breath.

"I am a retired Major from the Imperial military. I have participated and led multiple campaigns against the Imperium's enemies. After my final campaign, I retired and moved to Zaichaer, to find some semblance of peace." A soft, sad smile, barely there, "On the night of Ash 31st, last year, I was approached by Bishop Veronica of the enquête judiciaire, or at least that was the name she gave me. Her knowledge, mannerisms, and reach suggest her title to be true, though I imagine she has many names. She offered up a task, a test of loyalty as the Imperium is oft to do. I was tasked with gathering supplies, discretely, a task I accepted willingly. I was made aware of an operation that would result in a change of power in the Karnor, one that Zaichaer was invested in. From her speaking, it seemed that the Imperium was using the opportunity to piggyback Zaichaer's portion of the operation for its own gain. I gathered supplies to aid in the safe return of the team that carried out this operation."

Franky sighed again, feeling a bit of weight lift from his shoulders. The only person he'd ever said any of this to was Dalma.

"By the time I made my delivery on the desired date, at a nondescript location south of Zaichaer, I became aware of the kidnapping of Prince Talon and the King's assassination. I now knew to the extent of the operation I had been enlisted into. And I delivered the supplies to the survivors of the team, and parted ways. I hoped to wash my hands of that, but that was the error of a coward and a fool. Know this, I did not orchestrate this plan, but I did aid in it, and I will accept the responsibility and consequences Kalzasi deems fit for my role."

His eyes back on Karam's, severe now, "However, I am aware of more than my own role in this scheme." Franky reached into his pocket, pulling out his empty smokebox, still not having been able to refill it with cigarettes in these times. He opened it up, pulling out Talon's feather.

"This is from your Prince. It found its way to me by means beyond my own understanding. It has been a source of protection and hope for me since then." Franky offered it freely to Karam, "There was a moment on Searing 36, when the storm first hit Zaichaer. A moment where a connection was made with Talon. I heard his voice, I heard he was still alive. 'I am with you,' were his words. And I saw the tower in the Palace of Spires, in Gel'Grandal, where he was being held by the Imperium. I know where he is. Or rather, was, at the time, I do not have up to date information after that point."

Franky closed the smokebox, pocketing it. "I am also aware of a man named Rickter, of Kalzasi, and companion of his, Dante, were tasked with rescuing Prince Talon, by the highest of authorities. They have already since departed Zaichaer for Gel'Grandal, but I am not aware of their plan or timeline."

Franky took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment longer.

"These are the gifts I provide, a thanks for coming to the table today. As for my reasons, I believe we will need the rest of the meeting participants to arrive. But do know this. I will surrender myself to Kalzasi's judgment, however, I think with my help, we can potentially secure Prince Talon's safe return to Kalzasi and peace in Karnor, away from the machinations of the Imperium. The Zaichaeri government was destroyed when the Presidium fell, there is no war left to be waged." And Franky stood there, waiting and watching, knowing it was a lot of information he'd just given. There was just as good a chance he'd be struck down now as anything else. But it was a gambit he'd needed to play.

It took a significant amount of effort to stay stony faced in the torrent of information came from Franky’s proclamation. That in conjunction with the Executor’s assertion that the attack on Zaichaer had been carried out by Kalzasi.

He could feel his blood growing hot and rushing to his head. So much information he’d had no inkling of flowed from all of those around him, accusations, crimes admitted, roles played. By all accounts the man behind him was admitting to be seditious as he was treasonous. Still it would do him no good whatsoever to attack the man about it, not here and now at least. Zaichaer’s past was, well past. He couldn’t allow that to prevent him from securing it’s future.

Across from him were those who were potentially behind him. A hard squeeze on his hand revealed that he wasn’t the only one feeling the tension of the situation, the poor thing likely didn’t understand much of what was going on but she wasn’t immune to the palpable unease in the air. Myles’ brain whirred a he tried to put together all of the events before him. He wasn’t so wise as to think he understood the whys and whats that brough this all about.

The accusations leveled against Brenner and Stefan again The idea that they could ask for a trial after having committed the acts that they had. If Franky was to be believed there were Zaichaeri agents already moving through Zaichaer that had some idea of the fact that Talon was in fact alive. That in itself was concerning, but not impossible, there own military had its own issues with information gatekeeping. With so many unknowns taking hard stances felt unwise.

Inhaling slowly Myles centered his anger in his stomach and let it leave him with the exhale. Giving a reassuring squeeze to the little hand in his own he spoke.

“If”

“Indeed, IF. That is the operative word. If they are Alive, If those men even had a part in the disappearance of your lord. If you of Kalzasi are responsible for the deaths of so many non combatants."

Raising his head to meet the gaze of any would meet his eyes Myles let the fire fade from his tongue and glow like embers in his eyes, he'd let the hate seep from every pore in his flesh, but he wouldn't let that boiling emotion claim his tongue, not today.

If… if… If? How many If’s will we stand upon to justify our actions? I hold no love for Magic, and less for those who wield it. Still, there rings some sense in all of this. The empire, its insidious fingers are at play. As to what they want, I cannot and will not conjecture, but I have no doubts it will not be to the benefit of either of our homes. Even were we to crush Kalzasi to dust, as was done to My home, there would be no victory when the empire comes and claims all that is left.”

If it was within his power he would cut those of Kalzasi down before him, Some part of him believed that those before him were responsible for all of this. If he acted thusly on his desires he’d be no better than those he decried.

“I do not want peace, I do not desire it, nor do I believe my people do, not yet, not until it is known who the real enemies are. I want to believe that Kalzasi would not stoop so low as to reap such destruction. I do not believe your people incapable of such, I only pray that they are unwilling to stoop to something so lowly as unrestricted terrorism.

I propose not peace, but an Armistice. There are many… too many unknowns for me to concede more than that. I will do what needs to be done, in terms of having our army return home. Only so long as an agreement is made, that both sides will commit to bringing to light that which has brought this all about.”

If not for the child beside him he would have said more, so much hate he wished to hurl at those he saw as the reason all of this was happening. Still, the idea that the empire was a wolf watching foxes fight for scraps, only to pounce on the victor wasn’t unheard of, or… unlikely. Zaichaer’s policies towards the Empire had always been placative, there was always the daunting knowledge of what they could do. Myles would not be intimidated by those before him with regal countenance, he may not have the right to be here by blood, by noble claim, by riches or by honor. But he was here, he was a soldier, and he was defending his people to the best of his ability, and in his mind, that gave him every right to stand defiantly before these accusers. Even if Brenner had done as they’d said, and again If he was alive He would never had agreed to hand him over to a kangaroo court run by a city that believed itself capable of passing judgement on others.

“I want to make one thing clear, one more IF to ponder, If you suggest surrender, even use the word again in regard to my people these talks will end.”

Myles Met the gaze of the noble before him with every bit of righteous indignation and pride in his people. Those of Zaichaer would die to the last before surrendering to anyone. He did not believe their cause yet lost, only set back. He would crash every last man against their walls before accepting surrender.

Franky listened carefully as Karam spoke first, He'd seen how Captain Trashenna and Lord Ryom reacted to his words, and he was sure that he had secured some powerful enemies in this moment. But that mattered not, at least, not right now. Having the Executor from the bank was an interesting addition, and Franky was grateful he'd had the presence of mind to aid them. It added in a powerful dynamic, having a third party witness, one who wielded substantial power in their own right.

Karam sought peace, and had the discipline to not cut Franky down here and now. As Karam leveled that Franky would stand in judgement from Prince Talon for his role, Franky accepted the words. He'd earned them. He could feel the suffering that emanated from Karam, from Lord Byrom, from Captain Tashenna. He truly had taken something from them. More than simply Talon, others were taken that could not be returned, ever.

He listened to Myles, hearing the man's passion for his people as began his trek through this plethora of information and rumor. This was a man who cared about the people more than a ridiculous idea or notion. Those types of men were always the most dangerous.

And Franky was one as well.

Franky's mind had been working, adjusting and readjusting his ideas and plans as he took in all of this information. Looking at Karam, "To surrender now would be to ensure that Zaichaer never has a breath of its own again. Having Zaichaer as a surrendered, slow withering vassal state only makes it more vulnerable to the claws of the Imperium, thus further exposing Karnor to the threat. An armistice is a more fitting end to a war that never should've begun."

He looked over at Major Myles, "Do you believe yourself capable of reaching Kathiid, securing Zaichaer's side of the armistice, and bring the army home? The storm and mists are abating for now, but the Mist twisted monsters still roam the streets. Can you secure the army, and thus secure the city?"

He cast his eyes once more back on Karam, "I have a proposal for bringing all those to justice who deserve it. We, all of Karnor, must move forward together if we are to survive what will surely come. Secrets do not make friends." Another admission, "Through my wife's ability as a Seer, we were given a day to prepare for this storm. It was more than we could have ever hoped for, but what we saw, we did not understand, not truly. We saw chaos, destruction, people changing into monsters, and every bit of that would come true. I made a choice." A sigh, "I am the silent benefactor behind the The Knob Free Press, and I used that medium to spread the rumor of a massive, magical attack from Kalzasi. I did not know if it was true, but I knew what those words could do. With that, I was able to secure the lives of thousands that would have otherwise died without warning."

A sadness showed in Franky's eyes, "But Ms. Cavendish, the brilliant mind behind the reporting and investigation had no desire to spread that which could have been a falsehood. But there simply was no time to find the truth. I made a choice, and I took that choice from her." A glean in his eyes now, "However, I believe Ms. Cavendish would be willing, if not eager, to investigate the cause of all of this death and destruction. And not simply the storm, but the events leading to the war. There is no government left in Zaichaer to stymie her investigation and I will ensure that she has full access to anything she needs there. If Kalzasi could promise the same, after meeting her, of course, then the two cities could work together to bring true justice to those deserving of it."

Franky's hand ran back over his bald head, "However, the primary reason I called for this meeting was not to discuss the state of the war nor the investigation. The Rift over Zaichaer is frozen, but it is not gone. I have secured that it will remain as such until the new season comes, at such time, I can only assume that the mists and storm will rage anew once more. I have called this meeting because I have secured the assistance of Lyra, to attempt a construct the like of which has likely never been attempted. She believes, with adequate resources and time, she can devise a cage, of sorts, to contain the mists and storm until I can close the Rift, once and for all."

Franky knew he was spinning a tale in a way that hinted at details not being shared. "In a desperate attempt to try and close the Greater Rift, one that formed after the two rifts merged into one, myself, Rickter, and Dante entered it, a desperate, last ditch effort that should never have succeeded. We were destroyed, ripped apart bit by little bit. And were reformed, to find ourselves in the Court of the Dragon God. Oaths and agreements were made and we were all forever changed, and charged with fulfilling our portions. It was Eikaen himself that tasked Rickter and Dante with rescuing Prince Talon." He looked over at the Sage, "I know not what you're capable of but I'm sure that you can discern that I am more than a simple hobgoblin now."

"I will close the Rift, myself. I have been given the path to do so, and I must do so myself, as decreed by Him. I am seeking to come to an agreement, one in which Kalzasi aids Lyra in the construction of this so called cage, through their collective wisdom of magic."

His hands were in front of him now, "With a day's notice, I was able to orchestrate the saving of thousands of lives. With a day's notice, Lyra, aided by Rickter, was able to create defenses that survived every single effect of the storm, of the mists. The Presidium's own defenses, the entire might of the Zaichaer government put into them, failed. Those that Lyra built, did not."

Somberly looking at Karam, "I was built and trained for war, but I have no love for it. I wish for peace within Karnor and for the Independent States to remain as such from those outside them. Help us secure a future for Zaichaer, and the government we will build from the ashes will remember that moment when Kalzasi could've destroyed a broken people, but instead, offered a hand to help us stand on our own."

Franky pocketed his hands, watching and waiting for the reactions. It seemed that Franky had certainly inherited his mother's love of long shots and his father's love of storytelling. He was asking the impossible.

But he'd also achieved the impossible, and would do so again. And again. However often it would take to truly achieve peace and comfort for the people he cared about.

"If we can secure the resources to help Lyra with this impossible task, if Major Myles here can secure an Armistice, I will go to the Imperium and secure your Prince."

A hard ask. Franky could not leave Zaichaer if he thought it might simply fall once more. If the city could be secured, if the Rift could be contained, then he could focus on Talon.

His stance was accepted with a bored equanimity by the opposition, still that was acceptable to him, he hadn’t expected to make waves but it was satisfactory to know he’d been heard. Still his own words paled in comparison to that which franky had admitted too, and claimed to be able to do. If what he was saying was indeed true, then Franky was admitting to being fa more than a bog standard hob goblin, he was something far more than that.

When asked whether he believed himself capable of securing the armistice. Myles frowned pondering. The question before giving voice to his opinion. “I will, it’s not a matter of can, it will be done.” The or I’ll die trying was implied. He honestly didn’t know. He didn’t think it was impossible, but convincing an army that it needed to turn on it’s heels and return home rather than secure a victory or even fight against what could possibly have done this. He didn’t favor his odds, but he had never ben a betting man to begin with.

Surounded by those who weaved magic and were woven by it Myles felt very alone in the room of people seemingly so confident in their power. It wasn’t fear or any form of hesitancy as it was so much a realization of why he had to do what he was doing.

Someone had to stand against the mages, the reality warpers, even the gods had no right to walk upon those who were not of magical means or divine heritage. The longer he stayed in present company the more his skin prickled with unease. Still rallying the Zaichaeri was his foremost concern, he couldn’t turn down any help at this point even in spite of its source…. And seeing the map that one of the arcane’ with them conjured he was hard pressed to think that even with help their chances of survival were all that great, still there was some small comfort in seeing that the incident was not just affecting his own, tho that sentiment itself was bitter in his mouth. Listening intently Myles did what he could to absorb the information that was given and maintain a passive stance.

When the conversation turned back to him he frowned at the precipice he was on. He couldn’t he felt, safety concede any power to franky, no more than he already had. Not without knowing more, nor did he wish to disrespect the man in front of those he still tentatively considered foe.

“I will… play representative of my people, and I will do all that I can to lead them in these dark times. I make no promises to seat myself at the head of whatever government my people chose, for I am as much a servant beholden to my people as Much as I am a soldier and general beholden to protect them. Until such a time as my people see fit to remove me, I, Myles James Arnnett will lead my people towards a future of our choosing.”

Franky let loose a held breath as Kalzasi agreed to an armistice. As Ryom summoned the map, Franky scrutinized it carefully. A former commander, he was more than used to reading the maps and taking in logistical situations. And he listened, carefully, to the assessment. Yes, winter was an incredibly pressing concern. The Vykul Hordes were problematic, but that was an area where Kalzasi normally provided support. Franky's face was impassive, but he could feel something... new. It was an inherent sense, something different from any other. There was a heavy desire by someone in this room to receive help against the Hordes. A deep, burning desire. And it was there, in Franky's mind, waiting on him to pull at that string.

But now was not the time.

The report continued, and it all made sense, until the point about the Rift causing a danger to the Warrens beneath Karnor. Bringing the Warrens up to the surface? That was extremely problematic, to say the least. Franky was calculating in his mind, where resources would need to go, if they could even acquire said resources first. Make the plan first. And on top of that Mount Helika might explode? Great. This failed attempt at retiring to a life of leisure and pleasure continued to fail more.

At least the Circle and the Covens could be counted on in this time of crisis. That was valuable help and it would not be forgotten. Franky hoped that that would be enough to cage the Rift, he just needed time, to figure out how he would close it himself.

The Executor spoke, an approval for loans, interest free, as repayment for the help Franky had given, then she required a leader. And Franky looked to Myles, who appeared to be stepping up, not in a power grab, but to serve. To serve the people of Zaichaer for a better life. And Franky's respect for the young man grew. If the man could succeed at reining in the army at large, at securing the farm lands, he could easily have the pull and public support behind him.

Time for a gamble.

"And I will serve as minister of finance and economy to Major Myles, to coordinate between Zaichaer and the Guild of Coins, and ensure that the money is used efficiently and goes toward Zaichaer's best interests. Major Myles will need civic advisors to help rebuild what has been lost, and I will be the first to serve Zaichaer by his side."

He looked to Myles, "I'll work to help facilitate that the Rift be caged until such time as I can close it, while also helping to quell the anarchy taking hold in Zaichaer. The city will not be lost."

Looking back at the Kalzasern delegation, "Once Lyra, with aid of the Circle and the Covens, has secured the Rift, I'll get your Prince back, if Rickter's team has not yet succeeded. If they do, I'll come present myself to the Prince, in Kalzasi, for his judgment."

Franky had nothing more to add, but plenty more to think about. There was so much work to do, so little resources and time.