"No!" Rughoi rasped, pulling back from Kali's outstretched hands. "No magic, no teleportation, no closer." His hands searched around for his sword, but he found none. So instead, he steadily pushed himself to his feet, which threatened to give out under him again. He swayed, glaring through unclear eyes in Akydon's general direction. "You . . . I know you. My people speak in hushed whispers, but there's no doubt about it. The Thorn of the Emperor, they say. It annoys me to no end." He then experimented with walking. Hesitantly, he picked up one of his feet and set it down a little ways away. It shook, but held. Perhaps he was getting better.

 "You want Traeton? You would dedicate tens of thousands of soldiers to that ruin? Fine. I will gather up my people, and we will settle in our own land. However, we want reparations. My people need to eat and build their houses. Those things require gold, simple as that." He stood there, looking up at who for the longest time was his enemy, and found his own harsh expression mirrored back at him.