The Emissary halted his advance, gesturing vaguely at the chaotic sprawl of the forge. His movements were fluid, devoid of the jagged hesitation that characterized the soldiers of the Crown."Stability is not a gift bestowed by an empire," I said, my voice resonating against the cold steel walls of the chamber. "It is the absence of people like you."The Emissary smiled, a thin, mirthless expression that never reached his eyes. He seemed to find the concept of morality quaint, a vestige of a time before the world turned to rust."You speak as if you are a champion of the people," he countered, stepping over a discarded kinetic casing. "But look at what you have done today."He waved a gloved hand toward the barricade where Elara and Veyrik held their position. Beyond them, the sounds of fighting were beginning to wane into uncertain, jagged silence."You have shattered the infrastructure of this province," he continued, his tone clinical. "You have

"Your logistics are nothing more than a refined method of slow-strangulation, Emissary."Veyrik’s voice cut through the stagnant air of the chamber. She leaned heavily against the structural support, but her gaze remained fixed on the man in the charcoal-grey cloak.The Emissary shifted his attention toward her. He sighed, adjusting his cuffs with an infuriatingly measured grace."Engineering logic," he noted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I had hoped you would have grown beyond your parochial loyalties, Veyrik. You know better than anyone that scarcity is the only universal constant."He took a slow, measured step forward. His hand hovered near the ornate pistol holstered at his hip, though he made no move to draw it."Scarcity is the tool you use to manufacture obedience," I said, stepping between him and Veyrik. "But the tool has broken."I felt the Morning Star pulse, a rhythmic, cooling vibration that settled into my forearm.

The Emissary did not run.Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step backward, his boots crunching on the shattered glass that littered the floor of the observation deck.His eyes remained fixed on the Morning Star, which pulsed with a dim, rhythmic violet light in my hand."You believe you have won a victory here," the Emissary said, his voice carrying a dry, hollow echo.He gestured vaguely to the burning ruins of the production line below us."But you have only destroyed the body," he continued. "The soul of this enterprise remains intact. The designs are already recorded."Elara adjusted her grip on her rifle, the barrel remaining pointed directly at his chest."He is trying to buy time," she said."Perhaps," Veyrik muttered, stepping forward from the shadow of a fallen iron girder. "Or perhaps he is telling the truth. The Governor was far too paranoid to keep his master blueprints in an unsecured location."She looked

The Emissary collapsed onto the cold metal grating, his cheek pressed against the soot-stained steel. A thin trickle of dark blood ran from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained wide, reflecting the erratic amber glare of the dying terminal.Elara did not lower her rifle. Her breath was slow and measured, the discipline of her military training asserting itself even in the face of their imminent collapse."He won't be talking for a moment," she said.Veyrik ignored them both. Her hands flew across the cracked console, her fingers tapping a frantic rhythm against the glass keys as more warning lights began to flash red."The connection is still open," Veyrik warned, her voice rising above the low, rumbling hum of the overloading forge below. "The data packets are queueing. If they finish transmitting to the capital's backup array, everything we did here was for nothing."I stepped closer to the console, the Morning Star held low at my side.