“In other words,” Vasilia continued her place at the helm. “They’re only a military force if we [i]approach[/i] them as a military force. Resist their efforts openly, and enough will unify to swat us out of the way. And so, we shall approach them as nothing of the sort.” A brief meeting of eyes told Galnius to mark it well. A more pointed stare, that Epestia would mark it thrice. “They are priests of mystery and cunning, off for a holiday on a planet that cannot hope to oppose them. We too shall be from, ah, out of town, here to mingle amidst all the excitement. A fated meeting of the gods, yet another mystery on the path of mystery.” How could they possibly resist? “And once we have a better lay of the land, well! Then we shall see what opportunities present themselves.” It would take a subtle touch, yes. A very subtle touch. And, at last tally, Alexa [i]might[/i] be able to spell subtle. Redana, she may have skipped that lesson too. But the plan was far more preferable than discovering, exhaustively, what all those eccentrics did to a body. Dolce, meanwhile, stood at her side, staring out at the Yakanov, brows sternly furrowed, as if he could shame the great ship into quietly packing up its things and leaving.