"Do not get ahead of yourself, Dunmer," Lunise said as a matter of fact. "The decision of whomever is given the task of overseeing preparations is out of any present person's authority, least of all your own. Do not presume to assign either of us."

Marod raised a hand. "That said, I shall try my best to convince my superiors to keep me around here. I am sure Lunise shall, too. Tossing in any old veteran officer into your midst without any knowledge of you is likely to only cause drama."

Vera smiled. She was beginning to think that the Dominion was giving them support proportional to Lunise's arrogance. "Are there any further concerns either of you had?"

"Just one," Marod said. He tilted his head forward, locking eyes with Meesei. "Champion. If a Dominion soldier wields the axe, the Empire will be unable to support your invasion. I am afraid that is a point beyond negotiation."

Unlike Marod's previous casual and almost jovial tune, he spoke with utmost seriousness. Whether intimidating or not, he clearly meant every word.

In response, Lunise's upper lip peeled up in disgust. She retorted slowly. "What makes you think the Dominion wishes Tamriel swallowed by a Daedric Prince, Marod!?"

Marod was unperturbed. "Whether it is on the Dominion's terms or not, Lunise, you know we have reason to be reserved."

"And what!? You shall let it happen instead?" Lunise stood and leant forward on the table.

"I never said that," Marod declared. "I merely said supporting this invasion shall not be an option."

"Those documents clearly stated-!" Lunise's anger simmered. Her voice lowered drastically. "You were given instructions, weren't you?" She blew a quick hiss with her teeth and lowered herself onto her seat. "Lapdog."

Marod did not respond.