"He is building something that could reach beyond his territory. Beyond mine. Beyond this council's ability to manage after the fact." He held Malakor's hollow gaze. "Whatever he is preparing — three months of silent work, eighty thousand people moved to an unmapped location — is not proportional to personal grievance. That scale of preparation points toward something none of us can address once it is completed. I am not asking the council to fight Chronus for us. I am asking this council to recognize what the evidence is pointing toward before it becomes something none of us can address after the fact."
Around the table:
Volcanus watching with arms crossed, fire still low, the expression of someone who had revised their position and hadn't finished deciding what the revision meant.
Azshara's black eyes on Satou with the focus of someone whose arithmetic kept arriving at the same uncomfortable number.
Thalassian completely still in the way he was still when recognizing something.
