(Continued from Turn 43)
The silence that came after the Precentor finished speaking was deafening.
To their credit, none of the Blood Spirit warriors reacted overtly. Rory Vargras stood impassively, as did the pair of Knights Sanguine at his flanks, and the Elementals guarding the door of the chamber merely became more alert, ready for the first sign of treachery. But that was not to say that there was no reaction whatsoever. Both Knights readied their hidden wrist-blades, prepared to strike the Precentor down where he stood at the slightest signal from the Star Colonel.
Finally, one of the Knights spoke. The female, Veronica. "We could be broken for bloodfoul for this conversation, Star Colonel," she said evenly, her words coming parsed and very precise. Her comrade-in-arms said nothing, though his dark gaze was fixated firmly on the robed precentor.
Rory raised a single, gloved hand up at his side, forestalling any further comment. "Leave us. Now."
A rank-and-file Blood Spirit warrior would, perhaps, have offered immediate disagreement, if not an outright Trial of Refusal. But the Knights Sanguine were cut from a different cloth, and their orders were very clear: they were to aid Star Colonel Vargras' mission to the utmost of their ability, and to carry out his orders in the same fashion. After a few long moments of uncomfortable lingering, the pair of white-robed knights-errant bowed respectfully to their superior, and preceded the pair of Elementals from the chamber.
Once the massive double doors had closed behind the quartet, Rory turned again to face the Precentor, keenly aware that all eyes in the room were upon him. And when he spoke again, he did so with great deliberation. "Every fiber of my being screams for me to kill you where you stand for speaking such heresy. And yet... I cannot. For nothing you have said here is an untruth. By the Founder, I wish I could deny even a part of it, but I cannot."
"During the long journey to Nueva Castile, I was given the opportunity to study the recovered journal of our founder, Colleen Schmitt, and I was quite thorough in my studies. I read of her reinvigorated sense of purpose when the Founder set out to create the Clans from the ashes of the Star League Defense Force. I read of her passion to become worthy in his eyes to lead one of the new Clans. I read of her drive to mold our Clan into serving as the force that bound all of us together. I read these things, and was reminded once more of what it meant to be a Blood Spirit warrior."
"I also read of the numerous betrayals that occurred because of the Not-Named Clan. I read of her speaking out in support of McEvedy's people, of finding another way to deal with them. I read of the disgusting treachery of the Burrock Khan in calling for our own Annihilation. Clans called us soft, weak, and deviant for working so tirelessly to keep that sense of unity alive. I read of the ultimate betrayal of the Founder himself, censuring our Clan and warning us to adhere to the Way of the Clans or suffer the consequences. And this because we chose to fulfill the function that he himself created us to carry out!"
Pausing to collect his thoughts, Rory looked back up at the Precentor. "In truth, our unity with the other Clans died when the Founder was struck down on the fields of Ironhold by the Widowmakers. Even without having the words of our own founder to guide us, each and every one of us has known the truth of that since our creche days. We alone have held to the True Path, despite being given every reason to abandon it, when every other Clan has faltered. We have seen the fall of so many of those we once called brethren, and those that remain have become a pack of bellycrawling mongrels who have abandoned the Way of the Clans in their naked ambitions of landgrabbing and powermongering."
Heaving a great sigh, an uncharacteristic display in any Clan warrior, Rory spoke again after another moment of silence. "The Way of the Clans has been destroyed. And what all of us within my Clan have come to realize in recent days is that it was destroyed when we chose to Annihilate the No-- Clan Wolverine." For the first time in his life, Rory found the resolve and the strength to speak that name. Though their name might have been erased from the Clans' histories, the symbol of the Wolverine still adorned the Chamber of Supplicants within Blood Spirit Hall on the Spirits' homeworld. And all knew why it had been spared.
"Tell me what it is you propose, Precentor. For the moment, you have my ear."
The Precentor smiled, nodded, and spoke, "I propose we take the steps that are neccessary for us to survive, and for us to win. They are, in order of importance:"
"Find an equitable settlement to the territorial issues here in the Star Cluster."
"Forge a genuine alliance with both King Noye and the Caliphate, so that our forces in the days ahead would be multiplied."
"Develop a realistic battle plan to cast down the Grand Council."
"The first part is the most difficult of course. I could propose dividing the cluster evenly," the mere suggestion brought forth groans of protest from the assembled Castillian
Grandees, "or union under a single flag, with the Caliph and King as co-regents," this in turn summoned scowls of disapproval from the Castillian MechWarriors, "and as you can see neither of these will work for obvious reasons."
"So I propose this - accept the
status quo for now and instead work together to find new land holds for the nobility of both sides that have lost their lands to the war. New lands," he pointed to the map of the region which hung on the west wall of the room, specifically to the portion above the Caliban nebula ominously labeled 'Here There Be Clans,' "in the east."
Noye paused for a moment, "An interesting proposal, Precentor, but why strike the Clans immediately? With the strength of our new friends," he nodded towards Vargras, "the Hanseatic League would be easy pickings and would provide us with a rich backfield in which to build an industrial base."
Even as several
Grandees nodded and uttered 'here heres' of approval, the Caliph was shaking her head, "No, striking the Hansa would only be a distraction. Your Precentor said himself that it is only a matter of time before other, hostile Clans come to scour these worlds. Only a fool splits his forces two ways when it is not needed."
"I notice," Noye said rather sarcastically, "that you avoided saying 'we' just then, Caliph. Does that mean that your Umayyads do not intend to cooperate with this plan?"
"I mean precisely what I said, and I neither said I would join in this alliance nor did I say I would not. Until the terms of the as-yet-nebulous second point of the Precentor's plan are clear, I will agree to nothing. Precentor, do you truly mean for us to simply forget the past centuries and join arms with the Castillians? And with all respect, do you mean us to openly aid you in the spread of your false religeon?"
"I, personally, expect you to do neither," he responded, "rather I envisioned any cooperation between our forces to be at a high level, coordinating strategy and working towards a united goal, but not actually combining our armies on the field, at least not initially. As for the question of religeon, I must only respond as I have before: the Word of Blake is neither a religeon nor is it false, so your fears are baseless. You should however, ask the Star Colonel of what his intentions are: the Clans are rather notorious atheists, and I doubt they envision making 'Al-Qur'an or the Sword' their battle cry in the days ahead."
Burrill turned to Vargras with a thoughtful expression, "this is a valid question the Precentor poses, Star Colonel. In forging an alliance with the Umayyad, do you expect us to give up own culture in favor of that of the Clans?"
