Xeraph Grand Palace

They arrived at the Palace, a grand structure of ivory color. It towered above the rest of Rorian Grand, a megalithic structure that served as a symbol of the glory of the Union. The party of Knights, as well as the Misranans, filed out of their transport, the Knights taking the lead and guiding the visitors to the doorstep of the Grand Palace.

As they reached the entrance, the Knights turned around to face their guests. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to disarm before you enter the Palace. They will be kept safe and returned to you upon your leaving." He stood there, waiting for their compliance, or refusal. He hoped these people were the reasonable sort; given the Union's troubles with other forces as of late, they really couldn't afford hostilities with the Misranans, nor could they pass up the opportunity to ally themselves with a civiization that utilized similar tech as them.

It was always good to have a friend out there, and these Misranans seemed like they could be valuable ones indeed.

Naluma's eyes scrolled up and down the Knight that had asked her company to disarm, but with a small, understanding smile and another flick of her hand to the guards behind her, they all surrendered their guns, but not the knives that a few of them had at their sides.

"I do hope these other three will be able to enter, as well? They cannot rid themselves of the blades. They're alulan, and are born with them upon their tails. They are sheathed. Will it be a problem?"

The Knight regarded the blades upon the three guards. "It is of no consequence. Come, let us speak to the council." The doors opened, swinging wide their towering height. The entourage stepped over the threshold, making their way to the inner chamber where the council often convened. Out of sight, there was stationed a group of Phantoms, looking out on the crowd just in case they needed to intervene.

As the entered, there sat upon a line of chairs the council of five: Bastille Klaven, the human; Vorsa Dek, the vresk; Somme Jama, the cathurian; Kishkin An'uui, the f'dellan; and Elestas vin Agra, the siqari. All of them appeared distraught, save for Bastille, as his visage was hidden by his helmet. They sat, attentive to the incoming party.

"Councilors, I bring you Lady Naluma Saree of Misrana, and her party," the Knight said before being dismissed. The council eyed this woman and her guards, Vorsa looking rather displeased as a vresk such as he would. It was not unexpected; his innate warrior spirit was rarely impressed by others outside of his kind. He sat back and crossed his massive arms across his chest.

Bastille spoke, "So, you are the guests we have been expecting." His voice was kind, slightly dampened by the helmet he wore to conceal the horrendous marring his face had suffered. "We've come to understand that you are in need of support in the campaign to liberate your planet from your oppressors. Please, tell us more." He sat up straight, eager to listen, giving her a gesture with his hand to proceed to take the floor.

Naluma smiled at them very beautifully, holding her hands up to them as she bent her knees in a Misranan greeting specific to high society Nahatsan ladies.

"That I shall be doing. First I must thank you extensively for seeing us. We have had trouble gathering help around the galaxy thus far. For many centuries the Calidonan Supremacy, at the hand of the Triumvirate, have seized rule over Misrana. The planet was cloaked and extensive defense systems were put up to keep us locked away from the rest of the universe, as to keep the universe locked away from getting to us.

"Though people appealed again and again to the Supremacy to let us connect with those outside once more, but were denied. The Nazuan Rebellion rose from this. That is who I come to represent today. We are finished being brainwashed and kept in the dark. We yearn for our independent countries and for discovery of planets outside our own. We reach out to you, the Xeraph, to aid us. In return, we shall share an alliance and lend aid when you call for it."

Bastille nodded, the face under his helmet unchanging and neutral. He listened to this woman's plight and understood her desire to seek aid. He was all for assisting her in ridding her home of the tyrants that plagued it. He sat back, turning his head to his fellow councilors. As expected, it was Vorsa who offered the voice of blatant concern.

Sitting forward, he addressed the woman. "And what can your 'rebellion' do for us in return if we are to help you?" he asked. Bastille whipped his head towards his fellow councilor.
"Vorsa!" he said. The brutish vresk turned in kind.
"We cannot jump into a conflict without knowing what we stand to gain from doing so! Or have you forgotten, Klaven, that our resources are stretched thin as it is, fighting off the demons on a regular basis!"

Bastille was silent. "Regardless," Kishkin, the f'dellan councilor began, "We cannot ignore the plight of a people suffering under the heel of tyranny. Or have you forgotten about your compassion, Vorsa Dek?" Vorsa sneered at this.
"Compassion. It wasn't compassion that forged the vresk name in the annals as mighty warriors, nor was it compassion that staved off the hostile entities that would have claimed our homeworld! I am rightly justified in knowing why I should throw our warriors into the fray with these 'Misranans' and their ilk!"

The room was silent. "We cannot ignore them, Vorsa," Bastille said.
With a grunt, the vresk replied, "I'm not suggesting we ignore them, I'm suggesting they tell us why we should help, or we should send them along their way. Quid pro quo, as you humans say." Their attention turned to Naluma now, put in the difficult and awkward situation of explaining herself to the hard-headed vresk.

Naluma was not easily deterred. Even as the harsh arguments reached her ears, the woman only found her smile widening. Her hands clasped at her waist and she waited, with a wondrous, glorious patience, for the council to finish. Once they did, she rose her chin and looked directly into the vresk's eyes.

"Not once did we expect charity, Councilor Vorsa Dek. We intend to repay the Zorocratic Union in full and begin a healthy relationship, if possible. Misrana is very bountiful in its resources. If you are starved, allow us, of the Nazuan Rebellion, to aid you in supplying what you need. If you need soldiers, we will supply soldiers. Should you need weapons, we will bring weapons. If it is food, I can only hope our cuisine is not too foreign. Only say the word and arrangements can easily be made." Her hands spread out before her, appealing to the council alongside her words.

"It is fully understandable, that you might be hesitant. I will answer any further concerns or questions you might have."

Fearlessly, she stood before them, a kitten grinning to a bear.

The vresk fell silent. For a moment. "We have soldiers and food enough to last us for eons to come, thank you very much, miss Saree. No, what I am interested in, and what my fellow councilors are too polite to say they are interested in, is the technology your people possess." He sat forward, furrowing his brow. "It has come to our attention that you Misranans are in possession of technology similar to our own. What we would like, is cooperation in further developing our understanding of the magicks. This would include partnerships in research and development, open trading, and unconditional exchange of each others' findings."

The room was silent once more, all sideways glances burning into Vorsa's person. Bastille sighed a heavy sigh. "As crude as councilor Vorsa has phrased our interests, he is right. We are immensely interested in your culture and technology. We would require full cooperation in working together to further the interests of our respective civilizations. I hope this isn't too much to ask?"

Naluma raised an eyebrow. "That would not be difficult at all," she stated, as though it were a trivial matter. Before she continued, she met eyes with every councilor member, stopping at Vorsa once more. "However, there is a problem. The Supremacy owns a startling bulk of magitech research. They are able to purify the energy into a very fine and dangerous result. Though we rebels have done our best to replicate this process, we are having trouble doing so. Until we defeat the Supremacy, we will not be able to present you with the best Misranan research has to offer. Despite this, we will share what we have found on our own. Is this fair?"

Her words fell upon their ears, and they were silent, looking around at each other as if in some sort of telepathic ruling. "It will suffice. Hopefully our own scientists and Sorcerers will be able to provide further assistance in aiding your people," Bastille said finally.

A calm air pervaded over the chamber. "All that is left now is for you to provide us the location of your planet," Kishkin said. "With that business concluded, we will be able to send our forces to assist you in overthrowing this 'Supremacy' that threatens you so." With that the f'dellan councilor smiled. "Is this suitable, Vorsa, or do you require further convincing?"

The vresk was contemplative for a moment, a grunt and a gentle inhalation of air emanating from him. "Fine. As long as we have your cooperation. Just know this: our warriors do not die for useless causes. Do not make us regret this decision." With that, he was finished speaking, sitting back in his seat and eying the Misranans carefully.

"I suppose that concludes this meeting," Bastille said. "We shall send troops to assist your people as soon as possible. We thank you for your cooperation and your..." he trailed off, casting a sideways glance to his fellow vresk councilor from beneath his helmet. "...patience," he said finally.

The meeting was adjourned. Now all that remained were the final pleasantries.

"Duly noted, Councilor Vorsa," replied Naleema one last time before giving the whole council a final, graceful bow with her hands raised toward them. "The Nazuan Rebellion thanks the Zorocratic Union. Myself especially."

As she turned, her frock flourished and danced around her lithe frame. She wore her smile on the way out, as she had on the way inside, and her guards silently followed.

Like puppets on a string.

As she turned to walk away, Vorsa leaned in closer to Bastille. "If these rebels don't turn out to be who they say they are, I hope you're prepared to face the repercussions, Klaven." With that, the vresk rose from his seat, along with the rest of the council, and left the chamber. Bastille remained, sitting in his chair, contemplating, holding his head in his hand.

'Aeons help me,' he thought gravely.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Outside the chamber, the devilishly handsome Master Lancer of the Dragoons approached the Misranan group. "Lady Saree, I presume. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Master Lancer Alexander Steele. I'll be leading the fleet in the campaign against your planet's oppressors."

The Dragoon took a bow, placing his right arm across his chest and craning deeply. He stood back up, looking to the woman and her party. "I'm here to inform you that we will be making our course to your planet soon. We'll be taking a route through the Manasphere, and should arrive at Misrana's doorstep in no time at all," he stated plainly with a smile.

Naluma stopped in front of the rather strapping man, but due to her sudden movement, her frock kept moving forward until it nearly consumed the man before her. Once the cloth settled, the woman bowed her head, and not at the waist, because he was lower than the councilors. "The pleasure is all mine, Master Steele. Especially since you all have been so generous as to help our cause. Could you describe to me what this Manasphere is?"

Sabnach materializes from the void.

Sabnach vanishes into nothingness, but you get the feeling they are heading somewhere else.