Chapter 453
[Sybil POV]
“Welcome to our home. I must apologize, we don’t yet have the type of relationship with citizens of your country to give you free reign in Nievtra, but I do hope that you enjoy what you see.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” came the hesitant answer as it looked around. Wuarmi, as the creature called itself, looked at the clothed, industriously working Kha and Khatif that Sybil had filled the street with. Everything was a presentation, every step was a plan, and every sight was a spear or a fang pointed to inflict the most damage.
There was much to do before the real negotiation would begin. After all, at what point would she ever allow the duplicitous killers of the young and unborn to gather themselves? Beginning with hospitality was the best way to keep them from understanding how best to engage. Now, to be frigid, but to maintain professionalism. Before long, the intimidation would begin, then the kindness once more, keeping the fools guessing at every instance. Farahlia and Shemira had been working on that female to coach her to best ensure that she would be obedient when the time came for her to do her part as well. After all, hearing that the filth had been treated well would further muddy the waters for the confused visitors. They’d begin to wonder if the Empire truly was made of the same beasts they’d always hunted.
That wouldn’t change the way that they thought of the Saharliard, of course. They’d just think of their enemy as weak. Again, they would engage on false terms, but this time, the Zaaktif had prepared his people for war. The blood of children would no longer stain these ones' claws, because those same paws would feed the young of her people.
“And where are we going, Zaaktifi?” the scaleless liar asked. Sybil could feel the deceit dripping from every hair of the furry beast’s body. There was something about her that schemed. Not as deeply as Sybil herself, but there were plans, plans that she had to sort out without knowing them. And that was her job, as the Zaaktifi.
“To speak.” Sybil pushed a thread of her magic into hatred, letting slip a minute fraction of her true opinion of the Misti Hawar. She refused to look back instead turning to step into the “room” that she’d prepared for hospitality. As she approached the building, she met eyes with Foire, who flared his frills slightly as he maintained specific attention on the stragglers in the back of the enemy's ranks.
“Did… did we do something incorrectly? Where does this new hostility come from?“ The off put leader asked, her tilt of her head trying to communicate, genuine curiosity, but Sybil understood that everything she was doing was a front. She was worse at hiding it than Sybil herself was, and Sybil knew what her enemy's magic was. She had no ability to understand Sybil, leaving her confused and unable to do anything.
“Your leader came into my home and slaughtered dozens of unborn babies. Did you expect me to have a particularly high estimation of you? Were I to enter your nurseries and rip the heads off of your infants, leaving them bleeding and broken on the ground before you, would you consider me to be a particularly good houseguest?”