Sending all business to hell, I took a few days off. Or rather, I tried to, because I needed to listen to two reports out of turn. One from the Raiders, those finishing the second campaign, and the second from Warren and Radiy. The news that they had found, roughly speaking, Light witches on Dathomir—surprised me. Roughly, because they can only be called "Light" with a great stretch. They use both sides of the Force, albeit in a very crude form. And though there are few of them, such news is definitely good.
Another good piece of news in the capture of Dathomir—with the active help of the "Light" witches, the Terrans found if not all, then almost all the fugitives. Some surrendered voluntarily, some even wanted to switch patronage. Besides the three leading clans that had split from the Nightsisters, there were others, smaller ones, numbering fifty to a hundred witches each. And there were many such. Very many. And it was regarding them that I was asked for additional instructions, because these didn't seem to belong to the Rakata, practicing distorted Force techniques not related to anyone, but on the other hand—they were locals whom I had simply asked to be kept under observation.
After thinking a bit and consulting with the White witches, I asked to gather the others into a bunch and somehow unite them into one structure. From this moment on, legal witch clans appear on Dathomir, if you can say so. The Terrans will handle their enlightenment. Those who didn't show themselves but knew of the order would be destroyed. I don't want to risk it.
Following this report, two more fell on my head, both urgent. And both from the Terrans. The first came from those who were dealing with Damask's hideout and reported on the artifacts found there; the other from those who had reached the Infinity Gate. I told the first to gather everything and return to the fleet—to research and adapt; the second—not to meddle and not to touch anything unnecessarily. Little remained of the gate even for the Terrans, so its study is best conducted in my presence. At the very least, I'll need to again... again, damn it, compile a manual!!! And a reference book. I already know it by heart; I've spent so much time on it. Eh, no rest for the weary...
Then a couple more reports came, but I snapped. And this time I sent everyone away, and now I've definitely taken a couple of days off. Simply because I've gone a bit feral and want to rest at least a little, spend time with the children, meditate finally! It's come to this: I, a master of the Unifying Force, conduct meditation on weekends! A nightmare—if my teachers saw this, they'd be stunned.
Alas, you can't really rest in a couple of days, but it's better than nothing at all. So, after telling Talia about my adventures, we blew off some stress through spending time together, and afterward I gave attention to the children. At the first meeting, Phobos and Deimos for some reason took a dislike to Ros, expressing their opinion by crying. Ros, conversely—he was interested in meeting the twins, which is why he reached for them every time.
And in the evenings, when I managed to be alone for a whole half hour, I succeeded in meditating at the top of my citadel. Somewhere inside, the dream still warmed me—to open new horizons in the Force, to learn something unusual about it, something that had never happened before. And family members would be nearby. For once it would be possible to relax, breathe a sigh of relief, and simply enjoy the peace. Thoughts wouldn't be troubled by threats, all concerns would recede into the background. Eh... I hope that one day it will surely be.
The impromptu vacation ended before it began. One moment I'm resting, and the next—before I could snap my fingers, the days off are gone and I have to get down to business. Talia, ignoring my indignation, had also found herself an occupation. Taking a droid with nanny functions to support her, she was busy studying materials and was going to take up the preparation of documents for a future announcement in the Senate. Tatooine might not be part of the Republic, but the territories we intend to seize in the future certainly belong to it.
To be honest, I hadn't thought about this at all, operating on the thought: "That will be sometime later." She, meanwhile, is preparing already now. And rightly so; it's much more convenient for her to mess with papers than for me.
Furthermore, she contacted the Mandalorians and Terrans with a request to allocate assistants for managing the HIT. After a short meeting, a list of necessary specialists was compiled. Both the Terrans and the Mandalorians immediately found suitable personnel, who were sent to Tatooine. Two from the Terrans and three more from the Mandalorians. Everything was done, naturally, with my approval, and to be bothered less—I officially promoted Talia, making her no longer my lawyer but my direct deputy. Thus, my Precious, without exaggeration, took on her shoulders part of my burden, and while I'm rushing around somewhere out there, she intends to lead here and now. Because someone has to, and since I'm not here, she'll take care of it. Doesn't know how? She'll learn. The sent advisors will help and guide, and I'm always in touch.
In general, looking at Talia now, I notice more and more changes. Not a trace remained of the suppressed animal she had been before. Now you really shouldn't put your finger in her mouth—she'll bite it off. One bad thing—she won't cross me, and as a result—won't defend what she sees as the best decisions. And here, despite all her similarity to Hadiya, there were discrepancies. Hadiya always defends her own. From things to opinions. Even in arguments with me, she didn't hesitate to express herself, and in such words that even my tongue would stumble to pronounce. If she considered her decision correct—she would fight for it to the end, unless someone was found who had the courage to argumentatively prove the opposite. Eh... and my kitty is somewhere out there too.
After a note of melancholy, I visited Kassh. The Zygerrian sat in his quarters and didn't show his nose, waiting for further developments. Since he had conscientiously fulfilled his part of the bargain, I fulfilled mine—paid the promised amount and sent him on his way. Even provided a ship, honestly swiped by the Mandalorians from another lo... I mean pirate! Yes.
But my next собеседник came to me himself. Jabba the Hutt. This slug was very worried about the cleanup going on in our region, so much so that he was sweating and clutching his belly with big, big eyes. As the Hutt said, pirates and smugglers were disappearing before his eyes, consumer demand was falling, established routes were breaking. We, of course, didn't touch his ships unnecessarily, but the TF wasn't in this agreement. And since their military forces started flying our routes frequently, they also weren't lazy about cleaning them up once more.
As for the Mandalorians occasionally "accidentally" confusing the Hutt's property with others' ships and bases, I won't even mention that. It's one thing when you ignore ships flying by because they don't concern you, and quite another when those same ships are already flying through your region. And the Mandalorians were very jealous of what they considered theirs.
Moreover, some planets decided and were even already actively concluding protection contracts with my private military company RAVEN. This means that not only outsiders but even "their own" smugglers won't be let in, because of the contract, which in turn complicates life for crime even more. Payment was accepted in anything but Republic credits. One character even decided to pay in ore. We aren't picky; we take it in kind too.
Since we physically didn't have so many free people and ships, additional contracts were concluded with freelance mercenaries. They were provided with equipment, a ship, and new documents. If needed, ships were purchased from Corellia, but more often they were simply issued from reserve. Our raiders tried to strike carefully, capturing ships for subsequent operation. Equipment was taken from there as well, from weapons to portable medkits. So much of this stuff had accumulated in our warehouses that we could crash the black market in our region if we dumped it all at once, but for now we sell it steadily and in doses.
This in turn allowed for a good drop in the price for mercenaries. They weren't taken directly into RAVEN, for only the elite can get into it. Mandalorian, Terran, or in the future Hadian elite. For the free shooters, a separate formation was organized, with white-and-blue coloring and a white raven as the symbol. Amusingly, within the PMC they really were white ravens, whom the others called Tua'rek, which translates roughly as: pawn, or small fry.
The mercenaries themselves, naturally, didn't like this, but the pluses were far more. Furthermore, the Mandalorian ranks are open and, if you consider yourself worthy, you can join them first, and then, maybe, you'll be properly taken into RAVEN. And it seems to me there will be quite a few wishing to join, because status, armor, weapons, and, simply—dough—all this was readable upon looking at a RAVEN fighter. If their own respect them here, what can be said of outsiders?
But back to the Hutt. The consequences of such a decision had already begun to reflect. Jabba was practically demanding something be done about this, because his business was falling apart before his eyes. The only thing that steadily brought in high income was weapons and the black market he oversaw in our region, from whose assortment some goods had disappeared.
In reality, of course, everything looked many times softer, but according to the Hutt, he would be bankrupt by tomorrow. The fact that he simply had fewer and fewer competitors in this region, the Hutt decided to keep quiet about altogether. A slug, what can you take from him?
But this matter couldn't be left to drift; there is a grain of truth after all. We aren't yet ready to take the whole situation under control, and crime is the kind of thing that, to suppress, you have to apply simply exorbitant efforts. I know from my own experience how hard it is, but that was one single planet. And here we're talking about a sliiiiightly larger scale. And if you can't stop it—it's best to lead it—and direct it where you need it.
Based on this thought, we drew up another agreement with Jabba. The Hutt, not without my charming smile, through a "don't want to!" gave up all his objects in our region. And this time we were talking about those he had kept quiet about last time, for which he was paying right now. Soon our combat droids will appear on them. Droids will also appear on his ships. On one hand—this will be protection from competitors who are actively poking in here; on the other—it's a sign so that neither our people nor the TDF touch him. Sales points, major markets, some bands that are in on the deal also ended up in my palm with a bare ass. A new moral code will be clearly communicated to these groups. In particular:
1 — Robbing in our region is permitted only with our permission and only against specific individuals!
2 — For harassment, racketeering, or, Force forbid, robbery in our region, there will be punishment. Not from the planet's rulers, not from the Republic authorities who are somewhere out there, but from us. Because you answer to Jabba, and Jabba answers to me!
3 — Information about any other gangs, groups, and cartels goes immediately to the bosses, that is, to Jabba and from him to us. And if you don't tell, then we're coming for you!
In the future, when the second campaign is completed and far more strength is in our hands, we'll comb through every nook and cranny with a fine-tooth comb. In this simple way, we'll forcibly make the small shits go to Jabba and follow our rules. And whoever doesn't agree will either change profession or is their own angry ferret.
Hardly having seen the Hutt off, I had just managed to take a deep breath when another figure appeared in the doorway, with whom I had a meeting scheduled today.
"Sheev."
"Greetings, Lord Aero," the boy bowed respectfully in the Naboo tradition.
He himself was dressed in traditional Naboo nobility attire—a sort of long dress of a male style. The symbols of the house to which he belonged graced his chest. An amulet hung from his neck, a pair of rings on each hand. What amused me was the hairstyle. His hair, standing on end, stood out from his style as much as it suited it.
"And I thought I wouldn't see you for at least several months."
"Why?" Sheev was sincerely surprised.
"Shouldn't you have been dealing with the conflict between Naboo and the Trade Federation?"
"I've already dealt with it. After meeting with you, a conference was held with the participation of the Jedi. At it, all parties came to an agreement and the conflict was settled. Immediately after that, I headed here. As the Senator from Naboo on a diplomatic visit," he emphasized the last words with his intonation.
"So, you found the answer to my question?"
"I have some suppositions."
"Good. Come, let's take a walk," I invite him to follow me deeper into the fortress. When Sheev stood beside me, he asked:
"Is it possible to speak freely here?"
"Yes."
"Permit me then to inquire, what are your successes? What of Hego Damask?"
"You can see for yourself. His decapitated body lies in carbonite on my ship."
"Oh? Thank you, but I'd rather abstain," the boy adjusted his collar a bit nervously, "permit me to inquire—what now?"
"Now I'll take him to the Temple and rub the fools' noses in their blunders."
"And me? Will you tell them about me?"
"No. A deal is a deal."
"Thank you."
"Sheev, I haven't heard the answer to my question."
"Hm... I think the purpose of individual power is in the fulfillment of ambitions and the practical realization of the ruler's talent. One talented person with all the power in their hands can do what no Senate can."
"Not exactly," I shake my head. "Understand, Sheev. Power is not a reward or a toy for one's own ego. It is a tool that expands your capabilities. And the purpose of individual power is for it to do for the people's good what the people themselves cannot do through their organs. Each of us, no matter how strong and influential he may be—is just a speck of dust in a big world. His time will sooner or later pass, but descendants will remain. Home, family will remain; your people will remain. And a ruler—is that very outstanding personality capable of making a unified powerful nation out of a fragmented people. And it must hold together not by your will. It must support itself, and your task is only to direct and develop."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Dark Force adepts called Sith always thirst for power. For them, it's an idée fixe. 'Power, unlimited Powerrrrr,' " I waved my hands jokingly and laughed quietly. "He-he-he-he. Fools. They may achieve this power, but everything will collapse with their death. And I'm telling you this so that you understand what you want yourself. And that the path Damask was guiding you on—is far from the only one."
"I won't ask how you know this, but now I understand your words about remaining human."
"There you go. Be kinder, Sheev. This world is big; many others live in it besides you. And without those others—you are nothing."
"And what about eternal life?"
At this question, we entered my office. Nodding to him toward a free chair, I sit at my desk.
"What can I say to you on that? I personally know those who are immortal. Moreover, how old am I myself?" I demonstratively spread my arms. "But even they pass away in time. When you grow up, you'll understand why yourself."
"Mmm..."
"Now, to business. You can prove yourself as follows: in the coming years, a new state will appear in this region of the galaxy. I want Naboo to become part of this state. You, in turn, will occupy not just the seat of senator from your home planet, but the very throne of the ruler. For this, you need to find supporters, acquire a personal reputation... Not your family's, Sheev, but your own. Establish connections with others, for example, with us. Take control of the media sphere and actively agitate your fellow citizens about changing the system and its inefficiency. And it will be especially good if Naboo increasingly resorts to the help of our military forces, to the point that bases are formed on the planet."
"I-un-der-stand," Sheev said slowly, syllable by syllable, thinking seriously. "It will be very difficult."
"We don't look for easy paths."
"And what of the Republic?"
"It will disintegrate in time."
"You think so?"
"I guarantee it," I clasp my hands in front of me. If it weren't for the mask on my face, Sheev would also have seen my grin. "Now we only need to delay its disintegration. One could even apply the Force in places, or the help of outside mercenaries. But then, when there are even more dissatisfied, this colossus will collapse," and to myself I add: "For Force forbid this colossus recovers. Then it'll be a total mess..."
"I understand you. I promise that I will put in every effort, Lord Aero."
"I don't doubt it. A bit later I'll send an assistant to you. With him will be a holocron on ancient Je'daii techniques. The new teacher will help you unlock your potential and not kill yourself."
"I thank you."
Thus I took Sheev under my wing. The boy is quite the brat, of course, but, I repeat, a smart and slippery brat. The Terran who will be nearby later will not only prevent him from destroying himself with the holocron but will also ensure he doesn't do anything stupid. As I told him before: no one likes renegades. But if everything works out, one of the main planets in the Mid Rim, on the periphery of the Outer, will be in our hands, and in the future will serve as a key to the Core worlds.
After Sheev, several more meetings and sessions awaited me. With the leadership of the TNC, then with Duke Kryze, then familiarizing myself with Don's report... A nightmare, in a word. And when I flew to Coruscant, I was even to some extent glad. Though not for long. Exactly until the arrival on that same Coruscant.
***
Jedi Order Temple
As soon as the ramp opened, I was the first to descend. Following me was the quartet of guards assigned to me in the form of Mandalorians, and following them on repulsors came a small carbonite coffin with Damask's little corpse.
A whole small delegation met us, and, strangely enough, consisting of faces pleasant to me.
"Welcome to Coruscant, Shade Aero," Count Dooku greeted me with a nod of his head. Beside him stood his former apprentice Qui-Gon, who silently repeated his former master's gesture. Both Jedi were sincerely glad to see me, though wary.
On Dooku's other side stood Fay.
"Lord Aero," she bowed.
"Fay. Dooku. Qui-Gon. Glad to see you in good health."
"Likewise."
"Were you sent to meet me?"
"No. We volunteered ourselves. After all, not every Jedi is capable of enduring you." On the last word, Dooku paused and smiled. Without malice, but just like that, hinting at a joke.
"You are a masochist, my friend. But how noble it is—to sacrifice one's nerves for the sake of others. I'm sure the Order will surely appreciate this gesture!" I support the joke, and now we are laughing.
"He-he-he-he. Yes. And this..." he looked at the carbonite coffin floating above the ground behind my back.
"Meet him, Dooku. Hego Damask," turning around, I rotate the coffin with the Force, showing the protruding body and head.
"We chased him for a long time," the Count grew somber. "And lost many."
"Unfortunately, you will lose more."
"What?"
"This is not the end, Count. Only the beginning. That's why I arrived here personally; it is extremely important for me to convey a series of my ideas and plans. So that I am not just listened to, but heard."
"I know. Fay is a very good собеседница and told us much. Including your station idea, and the threat lurking on the edge of the galaxy. It is regrettable that the Council ignored her arguments. But they too can be understood; problems here and now must be solved."
"Yes. And then there are the Sith, who will continue to actively dismantle the Republic. You are fighting the symptoms when you need to strike the disease. Fay couldn't convey this simple truth to you, but I hope I will."
"Wait. Are there still Sith left?" Qui-Gon intervened. "Isn't Damask the last?"
"At least one more remains," Dooku looked at him with disapproval. "For there are two. A master—and an apprentice. It's unknown who Damask was, but it's known for sure that another remains somewhere. And finding him will be much harder," the Count sighed sadly. "Anyway, let's not waste time, come. They are waiting for us at the council."
"Oh! I won't even be invited for tea?" I exclaim in surprise, gesturing for the Mandalorians to remain by the ship.
"It is dangerous to leave you, Aero, within the Temple walls. Before we know it, you'll have everyone talking about old traditions."
"So that's why you insisted on meeting me!" I snap my fingers. "Decided to find out ancient techniques and learn the true path of the Force! And since I won't be staying here long, you'll use the allotted time to the fullest!"
"Heh. You have too high an opinion of yourself."
"And I have every right to it!"
He looked back at Damask.
"Not without that. However, you are partially right; I really wanted to ask you, in passing, to give a few lessons. The techniques you use boggle the imagination, and as practice has shown—they are much more effective in a clash with a Sith."
"Hm. That will be difficult. I am an adept of the Unifying Force. And while I may know some moves for someone like you, their use is connected to the Dark Side of the Force."
"If they help survive an encounter with a Sith, then I am ready."
"Count!" Fay was indignant.
"Fay, don't take offense, but I don't possess the same talent for words as you do. And as one who hunts Sith, I am obliged to know how to fight. If for that I must use the enemy's weapon—I am ready."
"Whoa. Count, you have changed greatly since our last meeting. What changed?"
"I saw what a trained Sith is capable of. Our group arrived to arrest Damask. He tore through us, killed some of the Jedi, and escaped. You, however, were able to capture him alone."
"Suppose it wasn't alone; my fighters helped me," I immediately interject. Though I don't emphasize exactly which "fighters" those were.
"Even so. Your techniques will be more relevant now than ever."
"What do I hear, Count? Have you grown disillusioned with the Light Side?" I raise my eyebrows in surprise, but it's not visible under the mask, though the surprise can be read from the timbre of my voice.
"I have grown disillusioned with the path of the Jedi. The Jedi that the Order shows us now. You see, Shade, my doubts have lived in me for a long time. With your appearance, they grew stronger. And when I had the chance to personally meet Fay, I no longer have any doubts."
"Fay, I believe I asked you to find help here, not to split the Order," I squint at the Jedi walking to my right.
"I was looking for help. And I found it. In the person of Count Dooku, Qui-Gon, and some other Jedi," Fay parried. "I did say I have influence and my name means something."
"Yeah," I wanted to continue and sneer, but decided to wait.
"Dooku, so what do Fay and your worldview have to do with it?"
"She protects peace. And the Jedi only the Republic. That is the harsh truth. I will try to help you at the council, but I repeat—until this moment the majority has a different opinion, including Grand Master Yoda."
"I understand. Thank you, Count."
At a walking pace, we passed through the open space of the outer spaceport near the Order. Once within the Temple walls, I felt like a target. Everyone turned and looked. Some with apprehension, some with revulsion, and some nodded to me joyfully. When we accidentally crossed paths with Jocasta in the corridor, I was even hugged. Young Jocasta Nu, just like last time, was simply glowing with energy, regretted my absence, and wanted to hear more stories from the past. I didn't even have time to understand where she pulled a notepad and a voice recorder from—magick, no less. And she wasn't even bothered by my companions or the coffin with the Sith's little corpse behind my back. Remarkable fanaticism for history.
The funniest thing was that when asked to be calmer and more restrained, she blurted out: "But it's a living Tythoniaaaan!!! How can one be calm?!" Laughing at the young talent and promising to tell a story or two in a free moment, we went to the elevator leading to the council tower.
In it, the Jedi Council itself awaited us in full force. Well, not in person—half were absent somewhere—but their holograms were here. Dooku took the last free seat. Qui-Gon had taken the coffin with Damask and carried it off into the unknown distances back at the elevator.
Having greeted the masters, I was asked to tell more about Damask. Where I found him, in what way, under what circumstances, with whom, how the battle went, and so on. For all this, I had prepared evasive answers in advance. So as not to lie, but also not to blurt out too much.
However, when the questioning turned into an interrogation, I cut it off quite sharply.
"...and who is your informant?"
"Enough!" I raise my voice. "My informant simply wanted to live; for that reason he gave up Damask. That is sufficient for you. And on that note, I am closing the subject with the Sith and beginning another, more important one."
"That is not for you to decide," Master Reynor shook his head.
"Actually, it is I who decide! Because it is I who have to fix your mistakes! While you fool around, I hunt Sith. While you stop minor skirmishes, I try to prevent the whole Republic from falling apart."
"Raising your voice is not needed, for we hear you well," Master Yoda broke in. "However, understand we cannot why you need this. Mandalorians have not been an ally of the Republic, yet their interests you protect. If discord in the Republic begins, only to your advantage it will be. Why then intervene?"
"Because I'm not an idiot. If the Core worlds go up in flames, the fire will reach even Tatooine. And they will go up, for some individuals well known to you are doing everything for that. And Damask's death won't stop them; on the contrary, it will only push them to even more aggressive actions. And besides the Sith, we have another enemy."
"An unknown opponent in the distant regions?" I was interrupted. "Without proof we cannot believe this, for even in the Force we do not see this threat. But a Mandalore gaining strength concerns us far more."
Taking a demonstrative deep breath, I began to explain calmly, slowly, and clearly.
"Please, listen to me. Hear me before it's too late. I do not have the political weight that you do, but I need it very much. If it weren't for this necessity, I wouldn't even have appeared here, for I don't give a damn about you, or the Order, or the Republic. Но! The trouble coming our way—it is common to us all, whether you want it or not. That is a fact. Material evidence I will deliver somewhat later. Now, however, we need to move the Republic capital to the station I have already started building. We need to secure the senators and a normally functioning Judicial Corps, because I am certain—the attack will be repeated. It's bound to happen, and if it does, if the judicial department collapses—I won't even venture to say what will start then. And what if our opponents pit, say, Corellia and Kuat against each other? Or Alderaan? You should understand yourselves how easy it is to do that in the current situation. Coruscant—is too overpopulated. It's easy to get lost here, and easy to penetrate. The system I'm talking about will be fully protected. For the senators, there will be rooms no worse than those here, a beautiful view of the local star. I'm sure from there they will continue their murky business—at least they'll try—but it's unlikely to work. Because I'm offering you the oversight of this matter. Checking the security's work, checking the senators, and also keeping an eye on the judicial department. Some things will have to be disbanded, some reformed, some abolished, and some created. If everything works out, the Republic's head will be safe and one less problem will exist. At the very least, the mechanism will set in motion and nothing will hinder its work. You, meanwhile, will be able to switch completely to the Sith."
"This is work for more than one year..." a thoughtful voice sounded.
"Why, are you in a hurry? Perhaps you already know where to look for the next Sith? Personally, this time I don't even have an idea, because after your failure those bastards scattered in different directions, cutting all ties with each other. I only managed to find Damask because I had done business with him before, and even then—I was lucky."
"That is exactly what concerns us."
"No, if that's the case, then let me just leave? I'll take the Mandalorians with me and we'll go into the Unknown Regions. Mandalorians are a nomadic people; they're used to it, but the Outer Rim will be left without our supervision. And you should know better than I how safe it has become there now. What do you say to that?"
"you won't do that."
"Wanna bet?!" I clasp my arms over my chest.
"Masters, I ask you to remember that Aero has until now, despite the gulf between us, helped us to the extent of his strength and capabilities. Moreover, his status as Mandalore the Creator speaks for itself, as does what they are doing," Dooku intervened. "I supported Fay, and I will support Aero. At the very least in the decision to create an intergalactic station."
"I support Dooku. We have enough enemies. And Aero, moreover, has influence over the Hutts. We need allies as it is, and such ones—even more so."
"But we do not know where this road will lead us. Gathering the entire top in one place is dangerous."
"No more dangerous than leaving everything as it is."
"To vote, I propose," Yoda took the word.
In the subsequent vote, the majority of votes were on my side. At that moment, triumphant fanfares played inside me, and I felt like shouting: "Yes!" Because when the time comes, when the station reaches operating power, I'll take it down myself. The entire Republic leadership in one fell swoop. Entirely.
Also, thanks to the negotiations being successful, I didn't stage a media leak about the Jedi's blunders. But Aala, on the contrary, I advised to strike sooner, but at the same time it should fail. For example, the Judicial Corps could be only partially undermined and through Black Sun, several senators could be pitted against each other via alleged blackmail. Well, and a frigate could be dropped on the Order. The shields would hold, but it would still be unpleasant. It would be a good incentive to move faster, as well as a demonstration of the weakness of the local defense. Heh... Finally, everything is going according to plan.
***
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