Omega Nebula, Fathar System. Wrath of Talos, Aetherial Hall. 1845 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
Eleven thousand of her Legion dead, and three thousand more on the surface missing.
Valeria sat in the throne at the head of the meeting room, alone, weeping. She fingered the reforged Amulet of Kings which hung about her neck, feeling its warmth - no, heat - burn through her fur. The agony of those still trapped burned into her mind, visions of despair and anguish flashing before her, their prayers endless. Each and every one's pain cutting into her heart.
She looked at the soul-gem and the wine glass that her other Inquisitor had brought for her dinner. The Argonian was simply trying to look after her, of course; but they, never having felt the reforged Amulet's power, could not even begin to comprehend the reason why she had cloistered herself in the meeting room. Each soul that had pledged itself to Imperial service was inextricably linked with the enormous blood-red gem in the centre of the Amulet, granting her the capacity to feel their distress, to rejoice in their victories, and to soothe their sorrows. And when a vast number of deaths were to occur in such a brief period of time...their cries for vengeance were close to maddening.
She picked up the golden goblet that had been placed before her, filling it nearly to the brim with wine, before crushing the small soul-gem and adding it to the blood-red drink. A small plume of steam rose from its surface, smelling faintly of blood.
"It would be a dishonour to drink," she sighed, setting down the goblet before standing up, "Not while my children still remain on the planet's surface, while they may still be rescued,"
Omega Nebula, Fathar System, Mara's Mercy. 1850 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
Asha had believed the Goddess had taken her in an eternal embrace. The dozens of fuel pipes in the reactor had been disconnected, but it had merely delayed the inevitable explosion. As the blazing heat in the steaming hot chamber continued to climb, her barriers failing and her suit's environmental control systems flashing warning signals. She collapsed to the ground, feeling her throat and lips burn, her lungs feeling as though they had shrivelled up after swallowing a mouthful of flaming shrapnel. She remembered clawing towards the console, in an effort to disconnect the last fuel pipe, but the world faded to a blissful, unfeeling blackness before she could do so.
But she didn't expect her Goddess' realm to be this...white? An intensely bright light shone down upon her, forcing her to squint. The familiar silver tassels of a richly-embroidered purple scarf dangled in front of her, swaying in a soft breeze.
"This one is surprised. Miss T'Valis is awake," J'Bari purred, holding a jar of some sweet-smelling paste.
Asha groaned, trying to stand up, before promptly being pushed down again by a gentle furred paw...hand? The skin on her face still burned, and even the cool air that had been fanned towards her had felt as though it had come from a drive core's exhaust vent. Her vision cleared up some more, and she could see the grey tabby's face, surveying her with a particularly worried expression. Behind her was a circle of occupied beds, spread with fine white linen - and if she was not mistaken, a tree, a real, flowering tree, inside a space vessel. Others, dressed in white robes, were hurrying about, administering those same curative balls of light that she had seen in use before in the medical camps on the surface.
"J'Bari? I had thought I'd been cooked alive. By the Goddess- where are we? This doesn't look like Jalnor, and definitely not the flagship,"
"J'Bari believes that this is the Imperial void-ship Mara's Mercy," she said, bending down to lather the Asari's face with the salve in her hands; it felt sticky, though oddly warm and comforting, "Priests of Stendarr are excellent healers. J'Bari believes Miss T'Valis will recover quickly,"
The cat pressed a particularly dense wad of salve onto Asha's neck, before sealing the pink jar with a cork. She sat down in the seat by her bedside, her tail flicking slowly from side to side. Her ears drooped in what the Spectre presumed was guilt. Even her wet eyes appeared to have been slightly reddened by tears.
"Nothing makes sense. I thought I was dead for certain down there,"
"This one learns by watching," she said, twiddling her thumbs guiltily, "This one watched the Empress perform teleportation. Many times. Empress entrusted Miss T'Valis' safety to J'Bari. J'Bari does so. J'Bari moved to you and picked you up, and tried to return. Thought of getting to the Empress' ship. Ended up on this hospital ship. Better luck than skill,"
She felt heat rise up to her face. This cat had rescued her when even she herself had believed that it was impossible to be rescued. She had even risked her own life trying to reach her position.
"I...I don't know what to say," Asha spoke, "You would do such a thing for...well, I don't know if I would even do it for a partner,"
J'Bari glanced over to the rows of beds beyond the flowering tree. There were hundreds of other beds in the ship, many filled with victims of terrible burns inflicted by the cowardly actions of the Batarians. Some, she heard from the healers, would never truly recover, especially those blinded by the initial flash of heat from the explosion. Others yet had their legs sheared off by shrapnel in the shockwave, and more yet remained in a critical condition, their skulls or ribs crushed by the immense force of the explosion. Had their armour been thinner, or less padded, the death toll would have been higher. And had she helped the battlemages with teleportations, perhaps some of them would have escaped unscathed.
"J'Bari was commanded by the Empress to guard Miss T'Valis. J'Bari obeys the Empress...mostly. Death affects all, but it affects the Empress most. She feels what we feel, and to have so many deaths..."
The cat trailed off, looking at the floor. She quietly cursed at herself. Why, of all the schools of magicka, was she competent in only the arts of Destruction? She could not conjure Daedra like the others, to carry away the wounded. She could not levitate supplies from deck to deck, to assist the healers with supply movement. She could not even bring a steady source of light for the surgeons to work with. Her hands stank of acrid brimstone and sharp ozone, the mark of a master of Destruction. Even the healers would regard her with suspicion whenever she offered to handle a medicinal salve to apply to patients.
"J'Bari is sorry. J'Bari is not a healer. This one can only destroy, burn and freeze," she growled, standing up, "J'Bari is only slowing down healers here. Miss T'Valis is safe, and J'Bari sees with her own eyes that Miss T'Valis is awake. This one will let the healers know that Miss T'Valis may call her whenever she is needed,"
Omega Nebula, Fathar System. Wrath of Talos, Aetherial Hall. 1855 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
Valeria had barely looked up as the door as it slid open, still swirling the goblet of soul-infused wine idly.
"J'Bari," she mumbled, hearing the near-silent footsteps, "I trust that you have good reason for disturbing me? I have dismissed the Inquisitors for the night,"
"This one is here to report to Your Majesty that her directive remains fulfilled. This one rescued Miss T'Valis from certain death on the planet,"
The Empress looked up, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. J'Bari winced, sensing the sparks building up between the Empress' fingers. She had abandoned her post at the ship's bridge, to assist with the rescue of a single soldier out of many that could have used her assistance. Her ears flattened, J'Bari closed her eyes, awaiting whatever punishment the Empress would inflict upon her,
But no lash of lightning nor flame descended upon her fur.
"You have chosen to rescue a single foreign soldier, out of many. You were a Legion battlemage, as I remember; and the Legion looks after its own. Why then, have you deserted your post in the bridge, despite my orders not to do so? Why then, have you abandoned your fellow Legionnaires, in their hour of need?"
"This one believed that Your Majesty's previous order was to keep the foreign one alive. This one did so, at a time when shuttles could no longer land, and everyone must leave the surface," J'Bari replied, hoping that her answer would placate the Empress, "This one believed that as no more could be rescued by staying in command, one more could be rescued by teleportation, and still keep both instructions satisfied and to keep this one's oath to the Legion fulfilled,"
She opened her eyes as she felt a gentle, though cool, hand close upon her shoulder. The Empress viewed her, a slight curl on the edge of her lips. Her eyes were no longer narrowed in anger, but the thin red web of lines about them betrayed sadness, and tears long dried up.
"And so you have completed all of my instructions. I cannot, however, congratulate you. For if you were capable of teleportation, then you should have done so earlier. Many more lives could have been saved. For now, get you to your quarters. Rest, eat, recover your strength. There would be many more tasks to complete tomorrow,"
J'Bari leant down and licked the Empress' left hand, before turning to leave for the Inquisitors' quarters. As the door leading away from the Aetherial Hall closed, she could have sworn that she heard soft sobs coming from within.
Omega Nebula, Fathar System. Mara's Mercy, 0730 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
Asha had no illusions about the pain of recovery. She had, after all, experienced numerous wounds throughout her career as a Spectre. Shrapnel, bullet wounds, gashes and slashes, shattered bones, even impalement by a stray piece of reinforcing metal. But by far, she could say that the worst were burns.
She had been stripped of her armour and clothing by the healers, who grimly peeled away the layer of plastic undersuit that had melted to her skin. Even through the anaesthetic drugs that they had fed her, she was screaming in agony as the charred skin beneath was torn away in sheets. They had hastily coated the raw flesh beneath with the same soothing salve that J'Bari had given her before, which did slightly relieve the throbbing pain. Their linen bandages, wrapped very tightly about her, merely aggravated the stinging sensation in her torso, where a particularly severe burn had caused boils to burst just below her breast.
The last thing Asha remembered before falling into an insensate sleep was the healer letting her know that the master healer would return tomorrow morning.
The reason why, she would see now, in the morning after the dreadful ordeal.
Piles of wooden coffins were hauled in by green-skinned brutes, while a black-robed priest uttered prayers to a certain Arkay as bodies of those that did not make it were placed inside them. The healers moved around less quickly, more of exhaustion than a lack of will. She had noticed some of them were sipping at some bluish fluid while they rested, like those healers that she had seen among their Legion on the ground.
"You're awake," a female white-robed healer spoke, stifling a yawn with her hand. Her pointed ears drooped ever so slightly, "Stendarr truly watches over you. I had prepared for the worst when I had seen J'Bari haul you in, looking worse than something taken from the Deadlands, but I think you should be fine now. I am Aelwynn, the master healer in this ward,"
She bent down, pressing a glowing finger against the Asari's cheek. A powerful pulse of energy surged through Asha's body; she could feel the flesh stop stinging a little at a time, from the point where the healer's finger touched her, spreading outwards as the feeling of comforting warmth wrapped itself around her. Feeling returned to her face as skin wove itself over flesh, reforming as though nothing had ever happened there. Whatever pieces of charred, blackened flesh had remained sloughed off, and within a minute the rest of the skin on her body had woven back together.
The glow of golden energy subsided, and the healer leant back, smiling sadly. The spectre opened her mouth to speak, but Aelwynn shook her head.
"On a better day, perhaps I could speak with you. My oath as a healer requires that I heal everyone to the best of my ability. However, as there are many others who are also grievously injured, I must beg my leave so that I may restore them to health. Good day to you,"
She placed a neatly-folded white linen dress on the chair to the side of the bed, motioning for Asha to wear it before leaving. There was also a note upon it, as well as her Omni-tool wristband.
The writing was scrawled in an untidy hand with some brownish-black ink.
This one knows you will be well soon, so please accept this robe from my wardrobe. The Empress will wish to speak with you later today, and this one hopes that the dress is more presentable than a hospital smock.
-J'Bari
The robe was utilitarian, with no decorations save for a simple silver band about the neck. It had been shortened to knee-height, and was rather baggy, especially considering the feline Inquisitor's lithe and lean build. An Imperial dragon was embroidered upon its left breast in silver thread. Perhaps it was the standard dress uniform of the Imperial Legion? Whatever the case, Asha was glad to dispose of the ribbons of linen that bound her previously-burnt skin, along with whatever charred residue had sloughed off when she had been healed.
Omega Nebula, Fathar System. Wrath of Talos, Aetherial Hall, 0800 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
"Your Majesty," J'Bari said, bowing, "This one brings you the guest from the Citadel Council,"
Valeria sat at the head of the table, her fingers locked together as she looked up towards the Spectre and the accompanying Inquisitor. Piles of dataslates lay haphazardly scattered about the table near her, and a scrying orb beside her elbow was screeching orders every few moments, apparently directed to whatever ground troops had been re-deployed in the aftermath of the explosion on the surface of Lorek. If her bloodshot eyes was any indication, she had not slept at all overnight, working to restore order down below.
"Thank you, J'Bari. Now, as for the issue at hand," she said briskly, leaning forward, "I have received reports that the Batarians on the surface have been...pacified. I also have another issue that must be rectified quickly. Three, in fact,"
"First, those of your people that we have rescued from the Batarians' clutches. There are exactly seventy thousand and thirty-nine of them that have escaped the cataclysmic explosion that had claimed ten thousand of my Legion's men and women. While I am willing to share what supplies we have with them, we cannot simply feed them, clothe them, and water them forever. They must be resettled on Nirn, or one of the Outworlds, until such time that your...Citadel Council...wishes to retrieve them. Assuming, of course, that they are willing to do so,"
"Secondly, the issue of your Citadel Council. I do not, for a moment, believe that the galaxy would exist without another nation elsewhere in the vastness of the void. To believe such a thing would be an affront to Mara, to suggest that Her benevolence would not extend to those outside the realm of our Empire. I would certainly like to speak to the leader...or leaders...of this Council, for myself. I would be grateful if you were to direct our fleets to the Council, so that we may discuss matters of state. What say you?"
Asha nodded, smiling. She hadn't made any demands of them, not as yet. And to have the ex-slaves resettled, even if not on Council worlds, was good news. A part of her screamed that perhaps these Imperials were scheming something. Nobody, after all, gives services so large without requesting something in return. But her thoughts were silenced as Valeria spoke of her third and final issue. The Empress' face was grim as she spoke the last request.
"Thirdly. The soul-heart of this ship had reported that a foreign ship, not bearing the identifying marks of a Batarian vessel, had been following us for days. We have decided to ignore this vessel for the duration of this assault on Batarian space. However, the vessel draws ever closer to our fleet, and can no longer be ignored. If you would, please try to communicate with this vessel. It would be truly unfortunate if we were to eliminate a Council vessel unknowingly,"
Another vessel? A pirate vessel would have abandoned their mission upon seeing a fleet that size, Asha thought. But if it were a Turian or Salarian vessel...it was too far away from Council space to have been one of theirs. That left only one possibility.
"Your Majesty," Asha spoke, forcing a fake smile to her lips, "I believe I might know the identity of this vessel. If I could have access to communications, I could attempt to contact their captain,"
"You have my authority to do so. I shall contact Admiral Servilius to make appropriate arrangements. J'Bari, if you will; lead her to the bridge. I shall continue my work here,"
The bridge, it turned out, was a short...levitation...trip from the hall. Why they had not yet invented elevators was a mystery to Asha, but she supposed that ascending or descending at will without waiting for an elevator chamber was an efficient, if stomach-churning, method of travel. Once she had regained use of her legs without stumbling, she followed the Inquisitor towards the bridge.
"This one is curious," J'Bari said, ears perking up, "J'Bari notices that Miss T'Valis uses blue-magic. Is it common for Miss T'Valis' kind to use it?"
"Blue...magic? Do you mean biotics? Almost every Asari - every one of my kind - has some ability with biotics,"
"This one was born on Zenithar's Harvest. This one was abandoned by her parents when she was found to use blue-magic. This one's parents thought it a gift from a Daedric Lord, a very ill omen,"
A faint blue aura projected itself around J'Bari, though it quickly faded away, and her ears drooped.
"This one cannot use blue-magic for too long, and does not know what to do with it. Khajiit finds it too exhausting. But we are now at the bridge. J'Bari hopes that she can speak about blue-magic with Miss T'Valis again sometime,"
The bridge was different to any Asari vessel that Asha had ever seen before. Where an Asari dreadnought's bridge was comprised of a ring of command desks overlooking various system consoles and displays, this bridge was composed of a double semicircle of dataslate-panels, all facing outwards through a clear viewing port. The hundreds of guns on the deck to the front were visible, scanning the blackness of space ever-vigilantly for any unknown vessels, while larger frontal cannons remained still, their muzzles periodically sparking with power.
"So this is our guest. On behalf of the Empire, I greet you," a gruff voice rumbled. A tall, middle-aged man strode towards them, "Admiral Lucianus Servilius, of the Imperial Navy. I've been instructed by the Empress that you are to be permitted to use the communications orb on the bridge to attempt to make contact with the unknown vessel we have detected. Make it quick, and I must remind you that if they prove to be hostile, we will blast them into pieces so small that even Akatosh wouldn't be able to put them together again,"
Their communications device, it seemed, was an enormous scaled-up version of the orbs that she had seen the legates and the Empress use. As J'Bari pushed her hand to a smaller orb beside it, Asha hoped that it would work with whatever short-range communications that Council races had used. If not, the galaxy would find itself with one less Spectre.
Omega Nebula, Fathar System. Normandy SR-2. Communications Room, 0810 hours.
"Commander Shepard. Incoming vidcall on line 1,"
"Who's it from, EDI?" she asked, stepping away from the galaxy map in the CIC.
"An unknown dreadnought-sized vessel identifying itself as Imperial Navy Void-Ship Wrath of Talos. The caller identifies herself as Asha T'Valis, Spectre,"
"She's still alive? I thought she had gone dark three years before I had attained Spectre status. Patch her through, but maintain your guard. This could be a trap,"
She grimaced slightly. Asha had been assigned to the Terminus systems for a long time - and apparently maintained silence so well that the Council had presumed she had been killed in action. To have her contact the Normandy, so long after her empty-casket funeral, seemed very suspicious indeed.
No less suspicious than myself, Shepard thought wryly. Many eyewitnesses had seen the Normandy blasted to pieces over Alchera, and very few believed that she was indeed Commander Shepard, and not a Cerberus clone installed as a spy among the Spectres. Stepping through the communications room door, she had found that Miranda had beaten her to the scanning pedestal.
"With Cerberus markings on your vessel? I should think that a Spectre would have enough integrity to not work with the likes of you!" she heard a angry female hiss.
"I am telling you, she is on this - oh, here she is,"
The usually calm and collected Miranda was visibly flustered by the exchange, and a seething Asari was visible on the vidcall pedestal. Apparently disgusted by the Cerberus colours that Miranda had worn, the Spectre's anger was barely mitigated by Shepard's presence on the vidcall platform.
"Shepard. I am not sure whether I should call you a fellow Spectre, or a traitor to the order that the Council represents," Asha spat, "You'd better explain yourself. How did humanity's first spectre end up working for a pro-human terrorist cell? Is this some sort of conspiracy?"
Shepard held up her right hand, backing away slightly, "I'm not working for them, They're working for me. I don't agree with their methods, but they're the only lead I have against the Collectors,"
"Wearing their colours...disgusting. If it were any other Spectre doing that, I would have tried to kill you myself. But...I did hear the Destiny Ascension was saved by your actions, and the actions of the human fleet...so you probably had a very, very good reason to join up with Cerberus, which is probably not only for the sake of the advancement of humans. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now,"
"Trust me when I say I don't like working with them either," said Shepard, rolling her eyes, "You wouldn't believe how many bugs I find on this ship,"
"And bugs would be the least of your worries when - oh, Your Majesty. Alright. Shepard, you're off the hook for now. Expect to hear more about this when I return to Council space, mark my words. Shameful, that's what it is..."
The image of the Asari Spectre faded away, replaced by that of a creature resembling an upright Earth lynx, covered from head to toe in jewelled black robes and armour. Something about her seemed to radiate authority, though Shepard could not identify exactly what it was. She stroked the short mane of white fur about her neck, before speaking.
"I had heard the exchange...Commander Shepard. I am Valeria Septim, Empress of the Nirnian Empire," she spoke, half-growling, "And I believe that you had best explain your actions. This ship had detected yours for a few days now, and still you have neither declared your intentions, nor have you broken away from your current course. Under normal procedures, we would have destroyed your vessel without qualms. However, under the recommendation of your colleague, Miss T'Valis, I have ordered my ships to stand down, at least for the time being. Given that she has identified you personally, and not an enemy or an unknown person, I am compelled to believe that you are not hostile, and therefore a pre-emptive strike would be unwarranted. So I ask you. Why are you following my fleet,"
The threat in her voice was clear. Inwardly, Shepard felt an intense desire to show her revulsion for the diplomacy-at-gunpoint that this cat was exhibiting. Only Krogan were likely to do such things. Nevertheless, she maintained a cool, collected facade as she replied to the question truthfully.
"I had received a tip-off from a source that an unknown fleet was about the Omega Nebula, and had decided to investigate," she spoke, carefully choosing her words.
"And your investigation would require several days' worth of surveillance? I find your mission highly suspect, Commander. A hail from your ship may have saved your crew, had we been much more aggressive,"
"And hailing an unknown, possibly aggressive fleet would likely endanger my crew more, if you were to fire on my ship upon finding it,"
Valeria let out a bark of laughter, and smiled.
"Paaz. A fair answer. That which you do not know should be treated with caution and fear. I trust, however, that you would have further reasons, of which I do not know, nor am I interested in knowing. I have a request to make of you, however, and I believe your colleague does as well,"
"Let's hear it," said Shepard, crossing her arms.
Valeria began to pace about, stroking her mane as she did so.
"I have in my custody a number of citizens from your Citadel Council, held against their will by the Batarians. They have since been liberated by my soldiers, and are no doubt desirous of their complete freedom, restored to their rightful holdings, and possessing the capability of seeing their families and homes once more. I will return them, in due time. In the meantime, they shall be relocated to Nirn, to ensure their safety,"
"And what would you have me do for their return?"
"Drem, child. Patience. I cannot ascertain whether or not your Citadel Council is at all willing to conduct business with my children yet. I would like to meet with the leader, or leaders, of this Council. So that we may speak of matters of state,"
Shepard mulled the idea in her head. She had no option but to agree, given how every cannon in the fleet had now been trained on the Normandy; however, to lead them to the Council, with an assembled fleet no less - it could disrupt the balance of peace in the galaxy. And the Council were unlikely to look favourably on having a second sovereign power in the galaxy. At best, relations would be strained between these newcomers, and at worst, an all-out war could ensue, claiming billions of innocent lives should it have ever come to that.
She had also seen fragments of cleaned-up footage that had been sent in a burst transmission from what she now knew was Asha's Omni-tool. They were not above performing blanket orbital bombardments to destroy enemy forces thoroughly. Given the total destruction she could see on Lorek's habitable equator, they were also far more brutal with their repression of Batarian slavery than the Council had ever been.
"Alright. I will lead your ship to the Citadel," Shepard spoke, uncrossing her arms. "However, Citadel security prohibitions prevent armed ships not associated with Citadel security from entering its orbit. The Councillors of the Citadel would look more favourably if you were to arrive in a single vessel,"
"A fair statement. I, too, would view such a large force as an invasion, if it had ever arrived at my gates - and therefore would also act accordingly. In a display of good faith, I shall comply. Ah, it seems that Miss T'Valis has more to say to you. I shall allow her to continue her conversation. Ah, and Commander; I should like to meet your Council as quickly as is possible. Justice has not yet been exacted upon these slaving Batarians, and even now my fallen legionnaires are crying for vengeance. Farewell for now, Commander; we shall meet again,"
The cat was once again replaced by the Asari Spectre, whose ire had calmed down somewhat. Somewhat being a very, very relative term.
"Shepard. This isn't over. When you and I return to the Citadel, I assure you that the Council will be examining you very closely," Asha spoke through gritted teeth, "For now, I will trust that your moral compass hasn't been broken yet by those pro-human terrorists. I suggest notifying the Council that they will be entertaining...visitors,"
Citadel, Widow Nebula. Councilor Anderson's Apartment, 2045 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
"Councilor Anderson," Shepard spoke through the vidcall unit, "We've got a situation on our hands, and it's not pretty,"
"Shepard. I trust that it's pretty damn important if you're calling at this hour of night. What's the situation?"
"I've made contact with the new species' head of state. She seems interested in maintaining peace with the Council,"
"There's more to it than that, if you're calling this late. Continue on,"
Shepard sighed, tapping her Omni-tool to forward images of Lorek that EDI had managed to obtain during the Normandy's flyover of the planet, as far as the Imperial forces had allowed them. The burning wrecks of cities were still visible from space, clouds of dark grey smoke dotting the equator wherever cities once stood.
"That was the Hegemony planet of Lorek, wasn't it?" Anderson said, looking at the location signatures on the images, "And what's happened here? It looks like the planet's been burned to the ground,"
"Selectively razed to the ground, sir. I have also found Spectre Asha T'Valis, rescued by these new species during their invasion of Lorek. They performed a very thorough sweep, sir. I have forwarded Spectre T'Valis' report to you and the Asari Councilor as well,"
"According to the reports..." Councilor Anderson whispered, flicking through the pages that Asha had compiled, "By God. Shepard, I need to know - is this report fabricated? Seventy thousand slaves liberated during that one assault? And all of Lorek's Batarian inhabitants killed or executed, including civilians? While all of the liberated slaves are temporarily interned on this planet called Nirn?"
Shepard nodded. The Empress' methods, brutal as they were, obtained results. From what she could tell from EDI's sensor readings as they passed through the Sahrabarik secondary relay from Fathar to Omega, pirates and slavers had begun to avoid the relay like it would infect their ships with a plague. She shivered as she considered the fate of the Batarians Asha had seen below, on the surface. Mass graves had been dug in every city, where all surviving Batarians would be thrown in – either whole or in pieces. Those that had surrendered were not excluded from the atrocities. Every Batarian male, female, or child, had been thrown in and promptly burned to ashes by waiting Imperial soldiers.
"That is correct, sir. As far as I am aware, any non-Batarians who showed no resistance were interned without violence,"
"I see. Thank you, Shepard-"
"Sir," she added hastily, "There is more to it. These Imperials, as they call themselves - tomorrow, their flagship will arrive early in the morning, carrying their diplomats and their Empress. The Council must be ready to speak with them,"
"Noted. I will notify the other Councilors of this immediately,"
Anderson frowned grimly as the vidcall link turned itself off. He hated being a Councilor. All the hand-wringing, the lying, the half-truths, the misdirection - all of it. But if doing so would advance the interests of the Systems Alliance, he was duty-bound to do so. And this meeting would be the first of its kind in...well, since the Relay 314 incident.
"I certainly hope history won't repeat itself," he groaned, moving towards his apartment's bathroom.
Citadel, Widow Nebula. Wrath of Talos, 1140 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
"So this is the Citadel," Valeria whispered, tilting her head to one side, "It is a large space station. I had expected a planet, at the very least,"
"Wrath of Talos, this is Citadel Control. Docking bay E-19 is cleared for your use. Please utilise a shuttle as we are unable to accommodate a dreadnought in any docking bay,"
"Acknowledged," Servilius droned, "Damn them. Building a space station of that size without building a docking bay to accommodate a dreadnought or two? Your Majesty, my apologies - it appears that we are forced to use one of our corvettes to land, due to lack of appropriate docking facilities. I estimate that we should be able to arrive within five minutes,"
Asha opened her mouth to argue back that the space station was not built by the Council, but then kept her mouth shut. Perhaps if they could be tricked into believing that the grandiose space station was built by the Council, then possibly they could be awed into entering the ranks of the Citadel races. No - for now, she would remain silent.
As she and the Empress began to walk towards the hangar bay of the dreadnought, she had noticed that several others had joined their group. J'Bari was among them, and she had given the Spectre a quick wink and a flick of her ear before falling in line with the rest. Each of them wore an ornate black robe, with swirls of silver about their hems. A brooch of gold secured their ankle-length heavy cloaks, which shimmered with some unknown power. And beneath all their robes, Asha could hear the faint scraping of an armour suit's chafing plates.
J'Bari still wore her purple scarf, however, despite the odd looks that the other Inquisitors had given her. Noting this, the Empress sighed quietly, shaking her head as the group finally emerged through the hangar's blast doors.
The corvette that they had selected seemed to be uniquely crafted. Where there was a simple bench in a normal corvette, the Empress sat upon a miniaturised silver throne, complete with luxurious red velvet cushioning. Despite what Asha could only assume was an outstandingly comfortable seat (even the benches in this particular shuttle had been lined with plush cushions), the Empress shifted endlessly in her seat. Occasionally, she fingered the enormous ruby that was set in a pendant about her neck, her eyes downcast as she did so. Filing this away in her mind, the Spectre regarded the magnificent view before her.
The Citadel defense fleet had been arranged artfully in a display of unity. The Turian, Asari and Salarian vessels moved in a broad wedge formation about the Citadel, dreadnoughts leading a swarm of lesser frigates. No doubt they had desired to awe the newcomers under the guise of maintaining security, but the Imperials seemed completely unperturbed by the display, merely raising eyebrows as a group of Salarian fighters settled into escort positions around the shuttle.
"They're efficient, I'll give them that," A reptilian Inquisitor spoke quietly to the man next to him, "Settling all these fighters around us in a short time. If it weren't for the fact that there's one of them inside this shuttle who's fought beside us, I'd wager this is a trap,"
"You really live up to your name, Sits-On-A-Thorn," replied another to his left, "Not everyone's out to kill us,"
He nodded slowly. "Yes, indeed. Not everyone. Barring the dozen or so assassination attempts by the various senators that us senior Inquisitors have had to...defuse...it's very much unlikely that we would be led into a trap by a completely unknown nation whose motives and disposition are currently unknowable. I am merely being cautious, young one. One does not survive for nearly a century by being careless,"
The corvette zoomed into the docking bay, where dozens of curious citizens had gathered about the docking platforms on the far side to observe the arrival of a new species (or in this case, several species). A platoon of C-Sec officers had been deployed around a platform marked as E-19, sealing exits and scanning floors, benches, and even vending machines with their Omni-tools.
Strange, Asha thought to herself, This isn't normal procedure. Normally C-Sec would simply arrange a shuttle or two for diplomatic missions, and two dozen or so officers patrolling the perimeters for any potential pranks.
Her Omni-tool pinged, and she raised the holo-message to eye level. She gritted her teeth. The Batarian diplomat was present at the Council at the moment, as well as a number of suspected Batarian terrorists among the lower wards.
"Is there something that you are concerned about, Spectre T'Valis?" asked Valeria, "You seem troubled, after viewing that device. Has it been damaged, in the brief period it was under my care?"
"No, not at all, your Majesty,"
In truth, the device seemed warmer - if that was even possible for an Omni-tool. She could swear there was a periodic flash of gold, or a spark of sunlight, on its surface. But before she could take a good look, it had disappeared as quickly as it had come. But everything was in working order, as far as its functions were concerned.
The Salarian fighters zoomed away as the corvette settled itself into the docking bay, the Citadel's docking tube only partially meshing in with the oddly-shaped boarding door of the foreign ship. Asha shivered as she observed the hundred-metre drop from a gap in the boarding tunnel. She had lost a colleague to a fall once, during a training mission gone wrong during her training among the Asari commandos. To this day, they hadn't recovered the operative's body on Sur'Kesh. The jungle had been far too thick to explore, let alone find a single body within the dense jungle underbrush.
A group of Turian C-Sec officers marched towards them, in the typical stiff-legged gait common among all Turians. The leader halted, before checking his Omni-tool for a correct translator program.
"Don't bother, they can understand you," Asha mumbled, to which the Turian officer raised a browplate.
"Then why have we received a translator program sent by one of you Spectres? It does not matter,"
He turned to the group, looking the Empress square in the eye. Offering a nod and a three-fingered hand, all he received was a confused look from the Empress, who uncertainly shook his hand gently.
"I am Officer Arvernus, of the Citadel Security force, or C-Sec for short. I've been instructed to keep you and your diplomatic entourage safe. While upon the Citadel, we request that all weapons be left at your shuttle, or away from the station entirely. C-Sec will handle all security matters within this station. I am afraid that there are no exceptions to this rule, aside from Spectres on duty,"
"Your concern is...noted, Officer Arvernus. Rest assured that none of my bodyguards possess a weapon upon them," she said smoothly, "Nor do I expect that they shall need to use their skills. I have been informed that one of your own shuttles would convey us to the Council chambers?"
"Yes. They shall be here shortly,"
"Excellent," she said, "I would certainly hope that the rest of the station is equally well-built,"
The Turian's mandibles widened in a grin as the shuttles arrived, though Asha could detect the slightest hint of disdain despite the cat's best attempt to mask it. Whatever the reason that the Empress possessed, the Spectre had no time to reflect on this, as the loud rumble of a Kodiak shuttle's engines overpowered her hearing.
Three shuttles had been brought in. Two were required to carry the Empress' bodyguards, while the last carried the Empress herself and the Spectre. As was typical of Asari diplomacy, they sought to impress the would-be Citadel race with a display of grandeur and wealth, flying low over the richer section of the upper Presidium, where vast parklands and lakes lined paths that wove about the numerous apartments that lay on either side of the Presidium ring's central parkland.
"Is there a reason, Spectre T'Valis," Valeria whispered to her in a low voice, "That there exists no traffic within a station of this size? That there would be hundreds of security officers, all of whom appear to be combing every square inch of parkland and building? It seems to me as though there is suspicion that there would be an attack upon this station. I do hope that you have not spoken ill of my Empire, Spectre,"
"Not at all, your Majesty. I haven't been able to contact the Spectre office through my Omni-tool,"
She fixed the Asari with a piercing glare briefly, before turning her eyes towards the towering structure before her, a needle of white against the vast blackness of space.
Citadel, Widow Nebula. Citadel Council Chamber, 1200 hours, Galactic Standard Time.
Councilor Tevos looked to her left. The Turian, Salarian and human councilors all stood behind their podiums, each dressed immaculately for this meeting. For the sake of safety, the Turian councilor had recommended that the Batarian envoy be ordered to remain within his office for the day. They were not blind to the terrible enmity that existed between this new race, and that of the Batarians; one that had only been made more apparent after Councilor Anderson had viewed the videos of the brief - albeit brutally efficient - assault on Lorek.
Still, it struck Tevos as odd that a race would go so readily to war over such a small matter as the enslavement of colonists. Thousands of other Citadel races' members had been captured by Batarian slaver rings, but it had been deemed far too costly to pursue a retributory war against the Hegemony. Thus, the Hegemony's slavers remained unpunished, as the Batarian government insisted its stance on slavery remained unchanged, and that the Council harboured prejudicial dislike of Batarian culture as far as slavery was concerned.
The doors to the Council chambers opened with a grind, and six Turian guardsmen rushed out, forming a line on either side of the pathway to the central podium. Behind them followed a squad of half a dozen other robed figures, whom Tevos assumed were the Empress' bodyguards. She had been informed by C-Sec that they were clean and possessed no weapons. However, she was certain that a faint aura, similar to that of biotics, hung about each and every one of the Empress' guards.
Last to arrive was the Empress, bedecked in an ornate black robe trimmed and embroidered with silver thread, like the others. Tevos raised an eyebrow curiously as she observed the Empress' movements. Levitating, without the telltale blue glow of biotics.
Tevos nodded to her colleagues, as the Empress assumed her position in the centre of the podium, listening intently to what they had to say.
"Welcome to the Citadel Council chambers. I am Councilor Tevos, representing the Asari Republics,"
"And I am Councilor Sparatus, of the Turian Hierarchy," said Sparatus, his flanging voice echoing in the otherwise-silent room.
"I'm Councilor David Anderson, representing the Systems Alliance,"
The Empress flicked her tail to one side, surveying each of the councilors with a critical eye.
"I am Valeria Septim, Empress of the Nirnian Empire. Well met, councilors,"
The Destiny Ascension drifted past the vast window behind the councilors, reinforcing what Tevos believed was the Council's authority in space. The new species seemed to be capable of constructing vast fleets and ships of unknown capabilities; and if the Spectres' reports were right, space-based energy weapons of some sort. No doubt the Turians would demand access to these weapons for their own fleets, and the Salarians would request that their research teams be allowed to enter this Nirnian Empire. However, at present, she needed to play the part of a skilful diplomat, to manipulate this new confederation of races into joining the Citadel.
"On behalf of the Citadel, I bid you welcome, Empress Septim. I have heard of your citizens' plight regarding slavery, and the Asari Republics extends its condolences. We condemn the actions of these slavers, and I would hope that your citizens would eventually be liberated,"
The Empress flattened her ears and hissed back an angry reply, "You are indeed aware of these cowardly Batarians' actions, and condemn them. To hope that my citizens would eventually be liberated is an affront to my honour and that of my Legions' own!"
"I meant no offense, Empress," Tevos said smoothly, forcing her to face remain impassive, "As it stands, our relations with the Batarian Hegemony remains tenuous at best, as our policies disagree with their cultural practices. Yet we cannot openly go to war, as that would require approval from the trillions of citizens under Citadel rule,"
"And your citizens would prefer that you would do nothing?" Valeria spoke, her ears flicking upright again, though her eyes were still narrowed, "Ah, but I speak out of turn. How your citizens behave, or what they think or believe, is neither my concern nor that of my citizens,"
"That much is true, Empress. How we govern ourselves, is currently irrelevant to yourself or your Empire. However, we would like you to consider the wealth of our cities. I have no doubt that you have witnessed the grand cities we have erected within this ancient station. There are hundreds of thousands of other cities, scattered across the thousands of planets that comprise the Citadel Races' collective lands, all benefiting from the vast trade networks across the Citadel,"
"Information is also available to Citadel races. Research, medicine, existing technologies. The possibilities are limitless," Councilor Valern added, "These would benefit your citizens, and by extension your Empire - and the Citadel races as well, when your contributions are added to the databanks in our archives,"
"A grand image indeed, councilors. But I have dealt with many merchants in my time, and none would offer such benefits without demanding an equally great cost," Valeria spoke, holding up her hand, "I would assume that there is always some demand to meet, or some price exacted, if I were to accept?"
"The Citadel peacekeeping force would patrol your borders. However, at the same time, we require all Citadel races to abide by the Treaty of Farixen," rumbled Sparatus, "As well as several other treaties regarding military force limitations, and a formal declaration of territorial limits. Even if you were not to join the Citadel in full, I believe there had been a precedent set during the Batarian disputes that disallows non-Citadel races access to Citadel trade networks, should they go against limits stipulated by this Treaty,"
"In addition, your research facilities are to be opened for Citadel use, in exchange for Citadel technologies to be provided to your Empire's citizens. Citadel civilians are also to be permitted to apply for citizenship within your Empire, if they so choose. These same rights are to be extended to your Empire as well. Furthermore, you may not forbid your civilians from migrating to and from the Citadel,"
"Interesting indeed. So you demand that I open my research facilities to Citadel scholars, such that they are permitted to come and go as they please? And limits upon my own fleet, as though my Empire were a subservient nation under the yoke of the Council? I should certainly think not, councilors. This is hardly a fair exchange,"
"Please consider it, Empress Septim. You will still have control over your Empire. You would still have control over your fleets, and you would have the Citadel peacekeeping forces to help maintain your colonies' security. Your citizens would benefit from vastly increased trade, and the vast archives of information we have would assist your ministers, without a doubt,"
"The slavers had still managed to capture your citizens. Prevention is not a cure, councilor. Destruction of the perpetrator is, however, permanent. Still, to have more ships present for mutual defense..."
Valeria exhaled slowly, massaging her temples.
"Enlighten me about the Treaty of Farixen," she growled, "If it is not too severe a restriction, I may consider this...option,"
Sparatus pulled up his Omni-tool, pulling up a document containing the abridged version of the full Treaty of Farixen.
"Turians, as the primary peacekeeping force in Citadel-controlled space, are entitled to build any number of dreadnoughts as they deem necessary for the maintenance of peace and security. Asari and Salarian fleets, being of equal import in the governance of the good people of the Citadel, are permitted to maintain three dreadnoughts for every five that the Turians have constructed. All other races, subject to Citadel rulings and under Citadel protection, may build no more than one dreadnought for every five that the Turians have constructed,"
"And may I ask, what is the definition of a dreadnought?"
Tevos cast a sideways glance at the Turian councilor, who likewise looked at her for approval. She nodded, hoping that the terms were not too severe. Negotiations hadn't gone to plan, as this new confederation was highly militarised. Even the lure of economic riches had not been sufficient to convince them to lay down their arms and join the Citadel as a client set of races.
"Dreadnoughts are all vessels which are at least half a mile long, and possess a single axially-mounted cannon of comparable length,"
"And what do you propose, if we had exceeded said limits? Do elaborate on how many we are exactly permitted to build, if I were to agree to these clearly restrictive rulings,"
"Turians currently possess thirty-seven dreadnoughts. By the Treaty of Farixen, this means that any client races are to possess no more than seven dreadnoughts each. As for what we shall do with excess dreadnoughts-"
"No," the Empress spoke. Her voice reverberated in the hall, the podiums behind which the councilors stood shaking ever so slightly, "You will not even consider decommissioning them. Perhaps you do not understand. The ships are more than a combat vessel. They are quite literally representative of the spirits of each Legion that had ever served the Empire. To order the destruction of a vessel is akin to the erasure of a single Legion from known memory. I will never submit to such measures,"
"Surely we can-"
"No," Valeria spoke. Though her voice had only slightly raised, the fury and indignation with which the words were spoken had visibly shaken the room. "There will be no negotiations on this. I will not be ordering the decommissioning of fifty-three dreadnoughts, along with the destruction of their collective soul-hearts. I will not be the one that will consign the memories of those who had fallen to Oblivion,"
A silence fell over the room, broken only by a quiet sigh from the Empress.
"I apologise. Perhaps I did speak too harshly. I forget that your...space vessels...do not possess soul-hearts like ours does. To decommission a ship is to destroy every single man, woman and animal that had ever served in some capacity aboard a vessel. It is akin to killing the vessel itself,"
At this, Valern struck the table violently, causing everyone to stare at the Salarian.
"Are you telling me, Empress Septim, that your ships are controlled by artificial intelligences?" he shouted in disbelief, his eyes growing wide, 'Do you not-'
"Artificial intelligences? There are those Dwemeri automata, which I would hardly consider intelligent, and there are soul-hearts. It is insulting that you would even say that these soul-hearts are artificial. These were men, women, and creatures, all of whom had served aboard these vessels. Yet in their undying loyalty to the people of the Nirnian Empire, they had chosen to serve eternally as part of the collective spirit of the ship,"
"The soul is an unproven entity. We do not know it even exists in anything,"
"Perhaps, councilor, when - and if - I were ever to permit you to step foot inside the Imperial City's Arcane University, I would allow you to attend a class on Arcana. Perhaps on that day I shall teach, if for a day, to demonstrate that the soul is real, and that it possesses power. But that is for another time,"
"Enough," Councilor Anderson barked. Both Valern and Valeria glared at him, having been denied the chance to escalate their arguments, "We aren't here to discuss the specifics on that. What we know is that the Empire is reluctant to disband their dreadnoughts, and with good reason. How much did it cost the Turians to construct their own dreadnoughts? If you, Sparatus, or you, Valern, were instructed to destroy as many as you have just demanded the Nirnian Empire disband, I would wager my annual salary that you would refuse. A dreadnought is not a small investment that can be thrown away when it is no longer needed,"
The Turian and the Salarian glared at the human briefly, before focusing once more on the cat in the centre of the podium semicircle.
"And then, there is the matter of finances. Thank you, Councilor Anderson, but I shall represent my own nation. It will not do to have another defend its honour. However, I do thank you for your support,"
"Perhaps...we could come to a compromise?" Tevos asked, tapping a few calculations into her Omni-tool, "If what they have said about these ships being...living creatures...is true, then to destroy them would be mass murder. I would suggest instead to prevent the construction of additional dreadnoughts on their part. Until such time, of course, that the Turians would build enough so that more would be permissible according to the aforementioned limits,"
The Empress paused for a moment. Her features resumed a stoic expression, before shaking her head in disapproval.
"I do not think these are acceptable terms. We are, after all, another sovereign power in the galaxy. A mutual defence agreement could work in the favour of both of our confederations. However, reducing our fleet sizes merely to conform with the regulations of the other is unacceptable. It would weaken our borders to external attack, as had happened already upon one of our planets. It saddens me that such measures should be necessary, given that neither my nation nor the Citadel has done each other harm. However, what can the Council offer, if they were to control the way our shipyards operate? Those vessel-crafters will require recompense for the damages you have caused to their livelihoods,"
"Access to the Citadel's trade networks. There are thousands of worlds available for them to trade with. No doubt your nation would have something to offer,"
"And I assume that my nation's trade guilds are permitted to conduct business on all such worlds?"
"They would be free to do so, yes, pending approval from local authorities and each individual nation's rulings. They would be subject to local taxation as well, levied by the authority present on any particular planet. The same must naturally apply to any Citadel trader functioning upon any Imperial world,"
"I see. These terms are far from acceptable, councilors. I do not see an issue with co-existing peacefully alongside the nations of the Citadel races. However, I do not appreciate being constrained by laws enacted by other realms, especially if it would threaten my sovereignty, or if it would threaten the security and prosperity of my peoples. As much as trade agreements would be beneficial to my economy, the cost is far too great. I must refuse. Now, as for the matter of the Batarian Hegemony..."
The councilors shifted uncomfortably in their seats, except for Councilor Anderson, who remained completely still as he regarded the Empress' next words.
"I will not, under any circumstances, settle for less than either the complete and total annihilation of the Batarian Hegemony, or the return of every single one of the captured citizens of my Empire,"
"Let's be reasonable," Tevos said quickly, "Surely there are better options than war. The Batarians have an envoy on this station. Perhaps you could come to an understanding with them?"
"I have been an Empress for nearly seventeen hundred years, Councilor Tevos. I do not know how it is with the rest of the Citadel races, but as a representative of your nation, surely by now you would understand that the loyalty of any ruler is to the citizens of his or her own realm. You would suggest that I neglect the collection of the weregild due to the widows of the fallen, to retrieve their sons and daughters taken from them by these slavers? What of your own, seventy thousand of which we had plucked from slavery?"
"We understand your pain, Empress, but to go to war over this is folly. What would you gain from this? A few planets, and your citizens' return, perhaps; at the cost of millions of your dead. Is it truly worth the cost? We could pay the Batarians for their safe return,"
She fixed Tevos with an icy glare, before snarling out her reply.
"I and my citizens would rest peacefully knowing that the Batarian menace would be destroyed once and forevermore, without resorting to placating their avarice with gold. What would they do, once that gold has been spent? They would once again seek that does not rightly belong to them,"
"If you persist along these lines, Empress Septim, I am afraid the Asari Republics, nor any of the Citadel races, may offer you assistance. The risks are simply too great, and to start a war will certainly lead to economic ruin in these times. I will wish you luck with retrieving your citizens, but that is, I am afraid, as far as our support may extend,"
"The Turian Hierarchy will likewise offer no assistance. Especially to a nation outside Citadel regulations. Your refusal of the Treaty of Farixen is noted, Empress, and the Turian Hierarchy will not come to the assistance of those who refuse to acknowledge the authority of the Council,"
"Very well," the Khajiit growled, "I will pursue this matter on my own. I do believe that I am obliged to inform you that there are seventy thousand Citadel civilians interned upon Imperial colonies, as per the Empire's obligations to treat liberated noncombatants in war. They shall be treated well, and you may collect them when a mutual...understanding...between our nations is achieved,"
"It is unfortunate indeed that we could not come to a conclusion favourable to either side today, but perhaps in the future we may negotiate an alternative,"
"That it truly is, Councilor Tevos. However, I do believe I can safely say that the Empire harbours no ill-will towards the Citadel, unless an agent of the Citadel would display hostile intentions and act upon them. I believe we may at least conclude that a state of neutrality exists between our nations,"
The councilors looked at each other. Sparatus nodded to Tevos. The Turian fleet had been decimated in the Battle for the Citadel, shredded to pieces by the Geth and Sovereign. Likewise, the Asari fleet had also suffered extensive damage; and the Human fleet had sustained even heavier losses in saving the Council and the Destiny Ascension from destruction. Peace was the best option available.
"I...think we can agree on that," Sparatus rumbled, a tinge of annoyance colouring his voice. In better times, he would have crushed these upstarts with the Hierarchy's might, to bring them into the Citadel's fold as a set of client races under the Turians. However, this was as good a result as he was capable of achieving.
"I agree with Councilor Sparatus. Well, if we are embracing the Empire as a neutral sovereign nation, then we must conclude some rules regulating space travel for our respective fleets, so that no movements could be misinterpreted as a hostile action,"
"Very well. I will not move my fleets within one relay jump of any Citadel race's world. Does that satisfy your needs?"
"No military vessels within two jumps. I believe that is more than fair," Valern added, putting away his Omni-tool.
"That is still a fair concession. I assume that the Council shall likewise abide by these restrictions, in relation to Imperial worlds?"
"That is correct,"
"Very good. I believe that no agreements are truly achieved until both sides have together signed and sealed a contract. Do you have such a document available, councilors?"
Tevos shuffled through the various datapads before her. Each was related to a new nation joining the Citadel, either under the banner of an existing nation, or under their own if they were sufficiently large. None had ever existed, as no nation had ever outright refused Citadel membership; all had been wooed by the vast material wealth and trade within Citadel space. Still, a binding declaration was not impossible to draw up, especially with so few terms.
So few terms. Tevos smiled inwardly; a lack of terms meant freedom.
And freedom meant manipulation.
A/N:
NOTE: REWRITTEN. Original diplomatic scenes had severe flaws, which were overlooked. Rewritten to better represent the Imperial stance towards freedom.
I hate writing diplomatic scenes. But it wouldn't do to have a new nation enter the galactic stage without the Citadel noticing, after all.
There will be more conflict ahead, and many more delicious tears of grief from all sides *offers everyone a strawberry torte, and invites Sheogorath for tea. Mephala can come too.*
173 follows and 138 favorites. I'm truly humbled by the amount of support, considering that this fanfic is actually quite recent. I'll be sure to continue this until it is completed; however, updates may be sporadic throughout the rest of this year as work keeps piling up :(
mjonar2
Good job at decoding the draconic, but it's not quite right:
Ziil gro dovah ulse - soul(s) bound dragon [for] eternity - Your souls belong to me forever
The others are correct. Well done ^^.