With your side project being promoted to your main responsibility, you spend a fair bit of time deciding whether or not to alter your approach, but in the end decide against messing with something that's working. Qrech seems to be a patriot in his own way, but to Clan Moulder first and foremost, with other Clans barely ranking above Traitor Clans. According to one theory in the Grey College, the best approach to lying is to do so as little as possible, so that the truth in the small details can reinforce a single, central lie. So in your regular meetings with Qrech, you mention that Clan Skryre seems to be holding back against Clan Mors, and Clan Eshin isn't attacking at all, all of which is true and supported by the documents from Clan Mors he has been translating.
"Three is peace," Qrech said, as if that explained everything, turning over the wooden figure in his claws. It was quite a good depiction of an Ogre of some sort, one of many of the carvings that have been accumulating as Qrech entertains himself gnawing his wooden blocks into shapes, and you'd introduced more and more shelves into the room to keep them safe from the puppy Skufit, who apparently sought to emulate his master in gnawing on wood.
"What do you mean?" You ask patiently, and wait for him to finish delicately nipping at a noticed imperfection.
"Rune of Skaven. Three sides, yes? Three means stability. Even if one is weak, neither of the other two can move against it without exposing themself to attack from each other. Skryre attacks and wins, Eshin attacks weakened Skryre, takes everything. Eshin attacks and wins, Skryre attacks weakened Eshin, takes everything. Only way for anyone to gain is all three against the surface."
"So, when Clan Moulder was taken out..."
"Four is feed. Strongest eats the weakest, other two can't get involved because if one moves the other will jump on them. Moulder was strongest, Mors was weakest. Grot-brained leader should have kept attacking Mors. Instead, attacked up. Thought it was four, Moulder-Mors-Dwarf-Orc. But Moulder in the middle. Orcs can't see Mors, Mors can't see Orcs. So instead, two threes - Moulder-Mors-Dwarf, Moulder-Orcs-Dwarf. Moulder attacks Dwarf, Mors attacks Moulder, Orcs attacks Moulder. No more Moulder." He peers down at the Ogre, and places it gently atop the table. "One is freedom. Two is war. Five is plot, two and two but neither can move on the one without the other two attacking them. If the one joined either side, they only get one third of the spoils. But if they stay neutral, bribes forever from both sides. Six is chance. Two and two and two is peace, but three and three is war, who knows which happens first? Beyond that..." He shrugs. "More complicated. Many theories. Many arguments. We know thirteen is best, but nobody agrees on why."
"So if one of the other Clans was removed..." you muse aloud.
"Two is war," he says, with a confident nod.
