Oh?

That was interesting, Thragg mused, immediately closing his novel, as he watched his son interact with a girl who was of the same physical and mental age as he was. If only he could tease him now, without embarrassing him too much, he would. His mother would, in fact, be very pleased to hear that their son was not at all asexual. She would also tease the boy senseless, regardless of whoever happened to be in the room with them. Honestly, Thragg was beginning to worry. He'd like to see some grandchildren at some point, though he wasn't in any hurry and Argall certainly wasn't, either. Besides, the boy had too much to learn before he could be an effective parent – or teacher, for that matter.

Actually, it was likely better for the boy if he gave them some privacy, even in such a crowded place. After all, their conversation did not concern or involve him, and the meeting wouldn't actually begin for another hour or so. That was plenty of time. The Guild Hall was massive, after all, enough to easily fit a thousand people within its halls and rooms. He'd seen all of it, of course, with Nareena giving him a brief tour in the days before they fell in love. It'd be interesting to explore it once again, Thragg figured, after so long. And so, he stood up. Argall turned to him and moved to stand, but Thragg gestured for the boy to stay where he was. "Do not worry, boy, I'm not leaving the Guild Hall. But all this sitting around has me bored; so, I'm going to wander for a bit. Stay here with your... erm... girlfriend."

Oh yes, he made sure to say that last bit as awkwardly as possible, just to mess with the boy, who frowned immediately, and to watch the girl turn as red as a dying star.

Before the boy could reply, Thragg turned and walked away, leaving the two of them to talk.

There were about a hundred people in the Guild Hall's Mustering Chamber, a hundred Scrappers who were already in Alka when the call to gather was sounded by the Mayor. The urge to fly southwards, just to see what all the fuss was about, was extremely tempting, Thragg would readily admit, but – once again – this wasn't about him. This war was Argall's chance to prove himself. But his experience of invasions told him that no invader would ever commit to attacking a planet with only a handful of ships, especially since they did not possess the same individual power as a Viltrumite, which limited them to total war by means of excessive numbers and force. And that meant that the invading force down south was likely little more than the scouts of a much larger Expeditionary Force that was very likely on its way here.

As much as he wanted to, however, Thragg held himself back.

Until the threat was truly and completely confirmed, then he'd stay back and let Argall outshine himself. The boy deserved it, at least, a moment to be who he was meant to be. His son was destined for greatness, Thragg was certain of that. And for Argall to reach his destiny, he must first face great challenges; after all, it was only through great hardship and perseverance that the truly strong were forged. And Thragg had no doubt that the boy would come out of this a man. He couldn't – wouldn't – steal Argall's moment.

Thragg eventually made his way into the armory, which was where the Scrapper's Guild kept the basic weapons, which they supplied to beginners and fresh recruits. Lining the walls were the standard Boom Shooters, hundreds and hundreds of them, massive break action rifles that made use of 30 centimeter long exploding bolts that were about as large and as thick as the forearm of an average human being. It was meant to kill in a single shot as the sheer power behind each projectile was enough to crush through even the thick skull and hide of a Wilderbeast, which meant it could kill just about anything, as long as the shooter actually hit their target. The use of advanced technological devices, most of which Thragg did not understand or care to understand, meant the massive rifles generated no recoil with each shot, which was good, since it meant the users wouldn't break their own shoulders or shatter their own ribs every single time they pulled the trigger.

Some variants, like the break action one Nareena used, had two barrels which could fire independently or together, though it was apparently incredibly rare and incredibly expensive – each one the work of a master gunsmith. At least, that's what Nareena told him. Fair enough, Thragg had never seen anyone else carrying around a double-barrel Boom Shooter, which meant his wife was probably telling the truth – not that her words were dubious, anyway, since Nareena hated lies and lying.

Thragg grabbed one of the Boom Shooters, which was around 170 centimeters in length, heavy enough that most untrained humans couldn't possibly carry it properly, let alone aim with it. The ability to properly make use of the Boom Shooter was, Thragg mused, the minimum necessary requirement before one could receive a Scrapper License. There were many other requirements, of course, examinations that tested an aspirant's intelligence, creativity, decision-making, and even leadership skills. But wielding the Boom Shooter was the most basic of them. If and when Argall decided to become a Scrapper, like his mother, then he'd very easily breeze through whatever exam they threw at him.

Alternatively, the boy could decide to conquer the entire planet, which – if Thragg was being honest with himself – was a very likely possibility. The boy's incredible charisma and technological genius meant he could very easily command the loyalty of just about anyone and everyone he talked to. And that meant Argall could conquer the entire planet through diplomacy alone, something Thragg had never been able to do in his many thousands of years of existence. Whatever the case, Thragg would be there to stand by his son's side – whether or not Thragg would be there to stop or support him was up to Argall.

Thragg spin the rifle in his grasp, before placing it back onto its designated rack.

Aside from the Boom Shooters, racked upon the walls were the Standard Armored Suits, which was a full-body carapace-like substance that Scrappers often wore underneath their clothes – matte black and capable of withstanding tremendous amounts of punishment. Every Scrapper wore a variant of it. Advanced models were tuned to its user's specific needs and preferences. For instance, as far as Thragg was aware, Nareena's Armored Suit sacrificed its durability for greater speed and dexterity, enhancing her ability to run, jump, and climb all over the place, which suited her melee-oriented fighting style quite well; others sacrificed those very things for enhanced resilience and so on and so forth. The best part about them, of course, was the ease with which they were manufactured – cheap, resilient, powerful, and dependable.

Almost perfect.

It was a fantastic piece of armor, Thragg mused, but it was far from what it should be; his grasp on advanced technology was... limited, but even he could see that it was incomplete. The Armored Suits were not meant to be worn as armor; instead, Thragg was rather sure that they were supposed to be worn underneath a Powered Exoskeleton of some sort. Argall mentioned the same thing the first time he laid eyes on a Standard Armored Suit, pointing out the distinct absence of its actual armor components and how they were supposed to be integrated into the suit itself.

Viltrumites... the ones who survived the great purge, at least, were taught to never rely on anything, except for the raw power that their bodies and genetics granted them. Before Thragg's tenure as Regent, however, in the old days, many Viltrumite soldiers did make use of advanced weapons and armor, technological wonders that were capable of complementing the natural strength of a Viltrumite. Such things were now lost to time, of course, not that Thragg had bothered to preserve them. Humans, weak and feeble creatures, instead turned to technology to bolster their strengths and cover up their weaknesses.

Most wonders, Thragg mused, the marvels that graced his universe, were almost always built by those who were weak, like humans. And Thragg had to concede to the fact that Viltrumites were not... builders; they were destroyers. Their society was built around the concept of might makes right and, unfortunately for themselves and for everyone else, even the weakest Viltrumite was capable of wiping out the surface of an entire world. Such an environment, where the strong killed or dominated everyone else, was not conducive for creativity and peace, for the rise of great works and technological pursuits.

His people – including himself – were barbarians... little more than savages, who just happened to be born with inconceivable power.

If only he realized this sooner... then so many deaths might've been prevented... entire worlds might still exist.

Thragg shook his head and turned away. Maybe, spending his free time looking at a bunch of weapons was a bad idea. With war looming on the horizon, the last thing he wanted to think about, ironically, was war. Even if, this time, he'd be on the side of the oppressed. Sighing, Thragg walked out of the armory and made his way further down the hallway, where another door awaited him, though this one was already opened. It was the library, where Scrappers pooled their knowledge in the hope of helping each other. There was someone inside, however, as Thragg stepped through the doorway.

"Hello," A figure in in deep blue robes greeted. The library was dimly lit, a series of candles on the walls just barely illuminating the darkness. Strange, Thragg thought. You'd think they'd put more effort into their library, at least, since there was no feasible way an average human being could read under such conditions. Though, maybe, there was a point to this? Thragg wasn't sure. There were lightbulbs hanging down from the ceiling, but none of them were emitting any sort of light, even when the light switches were flicked on. "We meet at last."

Thragg raised a brow as he stopped by the nearest book shelf, his eyes briefly scanning the titles on the spines, before he turned to the stranger, whose form was faintly illuminated by the candles and the starlight that streamed through the window. Odd was the word Thragg would use to describe his manner of dress, seeing as the stranger's cloak – not robe – was made entirely of vivid blue feathers. He also carried a staff of what appeared to be gnarled wood. And there was an odd scent to him, Thragg mused, something not at all... natural. Still, it'd be hypocritical of him to judge someone off of such things. "Hello to you as well. Do we know each other?"

The stranger placed a large tome down on a nearby table. "No, we do not, but I've heard of you. You're Nareena's husband, are you not? And the father of Vash-"

The stranger paused, making a faint choking sound, before shaking his head. Thragg raised a brow. Who the hell was Vash?

Lightning flashed and surge of light streamed through the windows. But Thragg found that he simply could not see the stranger's face, covered in darkness as it was, save for two sapphire eyes that emitted a baleful bluish hue. Still, Thragg shrugged. He'd seen far more eccentric things from rich Scrappers and merchants; strange blue eyes were not particularly strange. But Thragg would readily admit that the man before him was... off, though he wasn't entirely sure why. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, so, you must be the one known as Thragg." The stranger said. "No real reason; I was simply very curious as to what sort of man could claim the heart of the great Nareena. And here you are."

"Here I am." Thragg shrugged. He felt no malice from the stranger, even if he was admittedly weird. So, Thragg felt no real need to turn the man away. And, besides, everyone knew who Nareena was – or, at least, the tales of her adventures. "You know who I am, but you've not revealed who you are, stranger. You have me at quite the disadvantage, no?"

The stranger took a step forward, the faint light finally illuminating his face to reveal... average features. Nothing stood out about him – short black hair, fair skin. Nothing... except for his eyes. The stranger then took a seat, grabbing the tome he'd placed down and opening its pages. Idly, Thragg noted the glowing symbols upon the pages. "I have had many names and none of them matter any longer... but, you may call me Nine. It's an honor to finally make your... acquaintance, Mister Thragg."

AN: Two advanced chapters are up on my (Pat)reon.