"I understand. Let us begin the lesson," said Ardasa, but she didn't, not really. Her mind was swimming with questions. What sort of magic does Kali think she has, that can bend even the mule-stubborn Rughoi to her will. Would the gods even approve of such thing? Was she being mind controlled right now to say yes? Oh, gods, let Kali's words be true. The kobolds are finally at peace after the Traeton campaign, and it would kill her heart for her tribe to go to war again. 
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Rughoi was worried. He had been waiting anxiously for the past who knows how long for word to return from his legions in Hekaga. He wanted to know that they were alright, and it was not a plot by those ever-scheming dracons to whittle down his armies and soften up Xigyll for yet another attack. Now, he held the letter in his hand, straight from Rebat, borne by a ragged-looking legionnaire. Did he look ragged because he had traveled quickly, or because he had fled a battle? No, best not to be weighed down by dark thoughts. The priest, what was her name, had said as much in her last ritual. The gods saw his paranoia, saw his pessimism, and would more often than not punish such by turning them to reality. He held his breath, and tore open the seal.