Nellens Talomar wasn't late, though it was a near thing. He skidded to a halt on the jetty just as the gangplank fell and the crew began to disembark. A stern looking young man clad in blue-black lamellar was the first to make land. In his hand he held a blazing bar of pure orichalcum, a priceless weapon even by the skewed standards of a dominion as wealthy as Luseng. That would be the Satrap, no doubt about it.
Five robed men and women followed him closely, their faces almost as grimly determined as their charge. A moment later, a tousle-haired lad with the unmistakable markings of an Air Aspect stumbled onto the deck, peering blearily up at the azure sky.
The armored man scanned the crowd once, ignoring the effusive praise of courtiers and assorted welcomes, coupled with pleas for direction, his eyes lighting briefly on Talomar and those of his fellow Chosen who were present. He then proceeded to make straight for the Dragonlord. The crowd parted instinctively at his approach, and Talomar winced preemptively.
"Dragonlord," he greeted curtly. "I am Sesus Ulyssian. Apprise me of the situation."
That was one way to begin a conversation. Talomar did so, sparing him none of the grisly details. Ulyssian didn't seem particularly phased to hear that to his predecessor had been eaten by a Lunar Anathema, so at least that was something. He'd had a lot of experience giving reports; the process took only a handful of minutes. The gaggle of viziers and other officers stood by awkwardly, ceremonial robes flapping in the sea breeze, and seemed unsure about what to do with themselves. The new Satrap appeared content to ignore them for the moment, focusing on Talomar. He wasted no time in beginning to give orders.
"The various Exalted administrators who remain in the city… conscript them. Luseng is rich in jade; there must be arms and armor enough for a handful of people. They can die when the Raksha take the city or they can die preventing them from doing so. The latter is a death in service to the Realm, and is thus preferable."
Having delivered that grim ultimatum, Ulyssian turned to the circle of shikari, his face impassive.
"Seek your out wayward brothers and remind them of their duty to the Dragons, that we must all do our part in these exigent times, regardless of… misgivings, or personal agendas."
This last statement was delivered with a menacing edge, and he caught a handful of sideways glances coupled with nervous shifting. What in the name of the Dragons was that about? He'd hoped against both his better judgment and habit of preparing to be disappointed that someone would come swooping in to save the day. He'd even done a bit of praying, despite being more of a 'the Dragons help those who help themselves' sort. Piety had its place, but that place wasn't in the Legions.
Seemed like those prayers weren't going to be answered.
Perceiving their hesitation, Ulyssian spoke again.
"Now."
Their leader, a Fire Aspect with dusky skin, gave a bow that was perfunctory to the point of being insulting before moving to obey. That dealt with, the Satrap turned back to Talomar.
"The city also possesses a number of thaumaturges who have not yet booked passage out of the capital, yes?"
Talomar nodded.
"Summon them, and have them do what they can for the soldiers. Prioritize talismans promoting self-discipline and willpower. I am told there have been desertions, even among those bearing the blessing of Exaltation. We will have no more of that."
The Dragonlord chewed on the last remnants of his bread roll thoughtfully, heedless of propriety. The idea was good, but technically they had no authority over private citizens, and many would likely be busy attempting to drown their sorrows one way or another in the Blue Light District. It spoke to the state of things that that area was presently the least chaotic.
"And if they refuse?" he asked reasonably.
Ulyssian appeared to glower even more fiercely at the implication that anyone might do less than their duty when the stakes were this high. Dragons, the young miss hadn't been joking at all about his lack of tact.
"We are all that stands between them and a horde of soul-devouring monstrosities over ten thousand strong. If civic duty, common sense, and a basic desire for self-preservation do not sway them, you have my permission to dangle whatever amount of gold is necessary in front of their noses. I will authorize all expenses spent in pursuit of victory."
Talomar flagged down a passing soldier, and sent him on his way bearing instructions, even as Ulyssian continued speaking.
"The mortal priests should be able to contribute as well; have them entreat what deities are left for any blessings they can give. They should accept nothing less than their utmost effort, since our failure means their annihilation. Remind them of the fate of the City Father if they prove recalcitrant."
"That'll light a fire under them," he replied. They just have to hope that didn't move them to drastic and unproductive actions, like betrayal, but if there was ever a time for risks…
"Good. Now, I would inspect the defenses…"
They walked through the city, first passing through the training grounds where the tattered remnants of the Ghost-Water mustered, and then onto the ramparts that overlooked the grounds where the battle to come would be staged. All the while, Ulyssian issued curt instructions to a constant stream of messengers, periodically pausing to address some flaw or other. At one point he stopped to correct the form of a young Legionnaire who was training with his sword, and Talomar was suddenly struck with the sudden realization that the man might be older than Ulyssian himself.
When the tour was finished, they stood overlooking the city at a point not far from where he had seen the first signs of the Satrap's arrival. A handful of hours had passed, but the first preparations had been made, and they took a moment to rest.
"Do you have any questions, Dragonlord?"
He had a ton, starting with how in Creation did someone barely out of school get saddled with the clusterfuck that was Luseng, Zao's protégé or not, but decided that most of those could wait for later. Or never, judging by the way the Satrap was staring at the fortifications like they'd personally offended him and he was considering challenging them to an honor duel. There was one issue that worried him, though…
"The Shikari. What's going on there? It's like you said, we've had too many damned desertions. Need to be able to count on every Dragon-Blood we have."
Ulyssian turned that stare onto him. A long moment passed, in which Talomar reconsidered a few of his life choices.
"Saery spoke well of you," he replied, expression becoming contemplative. From the way he said it, you'd think the young miss's praise was a personal commendation from the Empress.
Abruptly, Ulyssian seemed to reach a conclusion.
"I have been sent here to die. If I fail in my charge, the circle of shikari will be present to help me carry out this… sacred task. Nevertheless, I intend to fulfill my duty as Satrap, regardless of which way the prevailing political wind is blowing in the Imperial City. Can I count on your support?"
Well. That was… something. Saery had said he was honest; there wasn't enough of that going around these days. It was rare enough that a man almost forgot what it looked like. Still, it wasn't like Talomar – along with most of the men and women under his command – couldn't empathize with being hung out to dry. So it was with complete sincerity and a sense of tentative hope that he nodded his acquiescence.
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1309 words of stunt for Siege Warfare. Not my best effort, but I can hardly let meianmaru and Aloysius shoulder all the burden.
