13 \195

This was sooner than Draig had expected to encounter home turf conflict, though of course, it could happen during any General’s tenure. This was in fact happening under every General in current office, because there was not one federet without multiple occurrences of signal takeover shutdowns.

There weren’t yet any physical injuries, save for mild societal self-inflictions. Economies were certainly suffering. Immediate response was naturally to protect citizens as in a hostile situation, even if the scales hadn’t tipped.

They were going to have to do something very soon. Test attacks. They had to. This couldn’t be an indefinitely inactive situation – this was the incontrovertible opinion of King Proxem Vario, and General Claymore as his lead advisor was unable to naysay it. Draig wondered if anyone called him Grant anymore, now that his partner Charlotte the Queen Ascendant had died in battle without him. Though his children were Magus, his family was honored by way of his title name. That was what everyone called him. Those who disagreed with his ruling decisions did away with his title and just called him Vario. Like Sturlusson. Not so malicious, but grumblers spoke of heavy-handedness, and he fell under a growing shadow of suspicion. King Proxem Vario showed no sign of letting it bother him.

From his desk, Draig gazed at his mother’s photography of famous Capital buildings while he ran down his mental list of action preparedness demands. A lot had been assembled on the shortest of notice. They had triangulators; reflectors; shields; disruptors; amplifiers; sonics; projectiles; fire of many kinds; and steel. They also had steel.

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