"I understand . . . I think," Ardasa said. There was a reverence in the way the older woman conducted herself, that commanded her own respect. It was almost as if Aerta were the empress, and she a mere dignitary. "Fate will move by its own hand, we shall see about the rest."
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"Look about you, blacksmith," Mardex said. "This is your home. The beating heart of an empire blessed by gods, dragons, and fate. The future birthplace for scores of kobolds, to number as the stars. The seat of the emperor, and the emperors after, for as long as time shall stand. Here, you will find that fighting for glory, the empire's, your own, mine, it is all the same. The only question that remains is whether you will or you will not fight. Dare I speak to the emperor, and tell him of my failure in securing a strong and steady hand to wield a sword in his legion? Dare I mention your name to him, and hide my face to cover my shame?" Mardex willed his eyes up to meet the other's. The fire has become especially potent, he could see. He is playing with forces too powerful for most kobolds to even comprehend.