This is not a negotiation, to be clear; this is a demand, a show of force, a demonstration. There is to be no neutrality for the creatures of Poseidon, no chance of a sudden attack from within. The high walls bristle with Alcedi warriors, waiting to drop like hail. The very air thrums and pulsates with the force of wings flapped in unison. Know your place, fit where you're told, and you can serve with us. Fail to join or, gods forbid, [i]oppose[/i] Molech?

Alexa clutches her spear, and wishes they'd just hold still for one second. Let the thunder of wings die away, and give her a chance to think. Or! Better and better! Leave entirely! Let her face the court alone!

Quietly, she proffers the spear to one of the more intricatedly-carved battlecrabs. 

The noise above her grows louder as the murmur of angry, dissatisified soldiers joins the beating of wings.

"For all it matters," she says, taking a seat across from the Assistant Secretary, "I hate this as much as you. But surely you can see that neither of us are able to stand against this? Better to work together than shed each others' blood to no end?"