"Five individuals were summoned to this meeting." Dilinur's alto voice pulled them back to business. "Four are present."

  "The woman called Fuuka Natsukawa." Kenji's eyes surveyed the room. "I understand she is someone you know?"

  Jabari shifted. "I saw someone that dresses like her at the Slumbering Mantis earlier. Shazmeen Vinh the innkeeper in purple Imperial robes, a headpiece like a ballistic bamboo hat. She left just before the sirens started."

  "You mean to say Shazmeen is Fuuka's cohort?" Dilinur inquired.

  "Possibly. But none of us has proof." Jabari shrugged.

  "To make that claim just off someone's choice of attire would also be…presuming at best." Kenji stroked his chin.

  Dante's expression darkened. "A Worm Witch. Rakshasa agent."

  "Alleged," Kenji interjected. "There's no evidence of—"

  "Convenient timing." Dante's words rumbled low. "She might as well be behind this entire siege!"

  "The Radi-Mon Hordes have distinct origins," Kenji said, polite but firm. "By all intelligence assessments, Rakshasa and Fenris have competing interests. Cooperation would be unusual."

  Xin filed the information away. He thought of the clay creatures in the Warren, the sand turtle and the violet hounds that had arrived at exactly the right moment. Fuuka's minions?

  Why help us? And where is Fuuka now? What's she up to?

  "Regardless of missing parties," Dilinur cut in, "we need to discuss terms. Delegate Pompeo has made the Terra Alliance's position clear. The question is whether we can find common ground before…"

  Kenji's tablet flashed. His face went pale as he read.

  "Prefect." His voice had lost its measured calm. "Dragon District Sector 7 has fallen. The Poison Dragon Flute Motel is compromised. Confirmed civilian casualties in the hundreds."

  The Poison Dragon Flute. Xin's stomach dropped. That was three blocks from Silver Orchid Quarters. Three blocks from his apartment. From Mrs. Huang on the tenth floor who always complained about the noise but left rice porridge outside his door when H?kon was sick.

  "How many?" Dilinur's voice was barely above a whisper.

  "Reports are still coming in. At least four hundred confirmed. Possibly more."

  Silence. The kind that pressed against the ears.

  Marcus bowed his head, lips moving in silent prayer. Jabari's hand had gone to his Kinetic Crossbow. Even Dante's cigar had stopped trailing smoke.

  And H?kon kept drawing lines of blue, red and black on white paper. Oblivious.

  "Clock's ticking, Prefect." Dante's voice was gentler now, which somehow made it worse. "Every minute we spend negotiating, more of your people die. I don't say that to pressure you. I say it because it's true."

  Dilinur's hands had begun to shake. She pressed them flat against the table.

  "Then stop negotiating and start helping!"

  "I can't!" For the first time, something like regret crossed Dante's face. "Not without terms. The Corporate Chamber will fire me if I commit forces without guarantees. They don't care about Xing Hong. They care about returns on investment."

  "Then what do you want?" The words came out raw. "Basing rights? Take them. Tariff reductions? Done. Corporate advisory roles? Fine. Just tell me what it costs to save what's left of my city."

  Dante studied her. "You'd give all that?"

  "I'd give anything." Dilinur's voice cracked. "Don't you understand? I've spent twelve years building something here. A place where people could live without being crushed between empires. And now I'm watching it burn, and you're asking me to—" She stopped. Breathed. "Yes. I'd give all of it. If it means my people survive the night."

  The confession hung in the air. Dante was silent for a long moment.

  "The problem," he said finally, "is that even if you agree to everything tonight, the Chamber won't believe it. They'll assume that you'll renege on terms once the crisis passes. They've seen it before. Frontier cities making promises under fire, then finding reasons to break them when the smoke clears."

  "Then what would make them believe it?"

  "Implementation. Concrete steps. Something that shows commitment beyond words."

  Xin's mind was already working. Problems presented themselves, and his brain started picking them apart like tangled code.

  Dilinur needed to preserve long-term independence. Dante needed to show short-term value to his Corporate Chamber. Both were optimizing for different variables on different timescales. But timescales could be bridged. Variables could be staged.

  "What if the terms phase in?" The words left Xin's mouth before he'd fully decided to speak.

  Every eye in the room turned to him.

  He felt suddenly small. A civilian engineer in a room of warriors and politicians, wearing a worn puffer jacket and carrying a plastic bag of ordinary things.

  "You…you're both stuck because you're treating this as binary." His hands moved as he spoke, the way they always did when he was working through a problem. "All-or-nothing. But systems don't have to work that way. You can stage implementation. Create dependencies."

  Dante's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

  "Basing rights could be temporary. Emergency authorization tied to threat duration, with renewal requiring mutual agreement. That gives the Alliance immediate access without permanent commitment from Xing Hong." Xin's confidence grew as the logic crystallized. "Tariff reductions could be graduated. Say, ten percent immediately, another ten percent each month for six months. That gives the Prefect time to renegotiate with other trade partners, adjust the economic balance. The Corporate Chamber gets measurable progress. Xing Hong gets breathing room."

  He was thinking out loud now, the way he did when debugging complex systems in those days as a salaryman in ZenFusion. "Corporate advisory access could be sector-limited initially. Eagle District only, since they're already operating there. Expansion to other districts requires separate approval after demonstrated benefit. That's a foot in the door for the Alliance without handing over the whole house."

  Silence in the room. Sigrun's blue eyes lingered on Xin while Dante studied him with an amused expression.

  The Alliance Delegate finally spoke. "And who exactly are you?"

  "Zhi-Xin Wu. I'm... I retrieved the High-Grade Zephyrium from the Red Rabbit Warren. With Sigrun."

  Dante's thick fingers tapped his Nucleus Watch. A holographic display bloomed above his wrist—corporate blue, the Terra Alliance's logo of maple leaf and eagles etched in the corner.

  The holo bubble that formed in the air wrote: 'ZenFusion Data Solutions'.

  Xin's stomach dropped. He knew that interface. Had stared at it for twelve years.

  "Zhi-Xin Wu," Dante read aloud. "ZenFusion Rigger. Rating: 3.7 stars. Eight hundred forty-seven completed contracts over twelve years." His eyes flicked up. "That's a lot of jobs for a rating that low."

  The words landed like punches. Xin felt the blood rise to his face.

  "0.5-star rating dropped two years ago. Reason: 'Loss of satellite Extranet connection' during a Phobos orbital station contract." Dante's voice was flat, judgemental. "Client filed complaint. Algorithm adjusted accordingly."

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "Delegate, that…wasn't…" Xin started.

  "Wasn't your fault. I'm sure." Dante swiped through more data. "Last successful contract: fourteen months ago. Current status: seeking employment."

  Every failure, every rejection, every sleepless night, reduced to data points on a Corporate Chamber Delegate's wrist. Xin's hands had stopped moving. He stood frozen, exposed.

  "So." Dante closed the display. "A 3.7-star Rigger who can't find work wants to advise me on trade policy with sovereign territories. A man who couldn't manage his own career thinks he understands how to structure deals between factions."

  Silence pressed against the walls.

  Xin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he say? The numbers didn't lie. They never did.

  "It's a sound plan."

  Every head turned to Sigrun.

  She hadn't moved from her position against the wall. Arms still crossed. Face still unreadable. But something in her voice had shifted—harder now, with an edge that made even Dante pause.

  "Miss Fjeld?"

  "I've worked with him." Sigrun's eyes met Dante's. "In the Warren. When things went wrong—and things went very wrong—he didn't freeze. He didn't panic. He found solutions."

  "Solutions don't pay rent, apparently."

  "Neither does dying in a Radi-Mon tunnel." Sigrun pushed off the wall, taking a step forward. "But we didn't die. Because when a Draug had us cornered and my axe wasn't enough, he improvised. Hacked environmental systems. Bought us time."

  Xin stared at her. After everything in that motel room—the rejection, the cold words, the way she'd pushed him away—she was defending him?

  "Your platform rates him 3.7, for whatever-the-fuck reason." Sigrun's voice dropped lower. "I've fought beside Alliance soldiers rated much higher who would've gotten us killed. The algorithm doesn't measure what matters."

  Dante's cigar had gone still. His eyes moved between Sigrun and Xin, calculating.

  "She's right, you know." Jabari stepped forward, his usual grin softer now. "Even in the Directorate, I've seen plenty of high-rated professionals in my time. Mercenaries with perfect scores. Politicians with sterling reputations." He shrugged. "Most of them couldn't think their way out of a locked room without a manual."

  "And you'd vouch for him too, Griot?"

  "I'd vouch for the idea." Jabari spread his hands. "Phased implementation. Graduated commitments. Dependencies that protect both parties. It's elegant. Doesn't matter if it came from a 5-star consultant or a struggling Rigger. The logic holds."

  Dante was quiet for a long moment.

  His eyes returned to Xin. Measuring. The same look he'd given the proposal itself.

  "You know what ZenFusion's cut is, Mr. Wu?"

  "Twenty-eight percent." The words came out flat. Xin had calculated that bite thousands of times.

  "Twenty-eight percent of every contract. Every job you've completed for twelve years." Dante's lips curved, not quite a sneer. "But I'm not the platform. I can read between the data points when I choose to."

  He looked at the holographic map, still bleeding red.

  "Phased implementation," he said slowly. "Your assessment, Seneschal Tsudo?"

  Kenji was already nodding and making notes, his stylus flying across the tablet. "The framework is sound. Graduated commitments with verification milestones."

  "You'd advise it, Seneschal?" Dilinur turned to him.

  "Yes. The Terra Alliance would have contractual guarantees. Xing Hong would retain sovereignty over implementation pace." Kenji's smile was near imperceptible, but Xin caught his lips curving upwards.

  Dilinur's eyes moved between Xin and Dante. "Well, Delegate?"

  Dante was still watching Xin. That measuring look, as if recalculating something.

  "HAW-koon done!" The small voice cut through the room's tension.

  H?kon held up his coloring book, scales cycling to proud gold. The page showed crude but recognizable figures—two of them, rendered in the bold strokes.

  One had black hair piled high in an elaborate style. The other was large, very large, white hair atop a round face, with a brown rectangular shape—a cigar?—floating beside it.

  "Draw big-people!" H?kon announced. "Red Lady and...and..." He squinted at his own work. "Round Man!"

  A sound escaped Kenji that might have been a strangled cough.

  Dilinur's hand rose to cover her mouth. Her shoulders shook with laughter.

  But Dante was still. His eyes stayed on the drawing. On the crude strokes that somehow captured his bulk, the floating cigar.

  "My first wife and I," Dante said quietly, "never had children. I envy those who do, human or otherwise."

  The corporate hardness hadn't vanished. But something else had surfaced beneath it.

  "Phased implementation, then." His voice became rough once more. "Emergency authorization tonight. Immediate deployment of Alliance forces to reinforce Xing Hong's perimeter. We negotiate the rest tomorrow." He looked at Dilinur. "Assuming there is a tomorrow."

  Dilinur's breath caught before she resumed her elegant posture. "Agreed."

  Within a few minutes, the terms came together quickly.

  Emergency military authorization. Temporary basing rights tied to threat assessment. Graduated tariff reductions over six months. Limited Corporate advisory role in reconstruction: sector-specific, requiring mutual approval for expansion.

  Partnership, as Dilinur called it. Not alignment.

  Dante was already speaking into his Nucleus Watch, blue holographic codes and authorizations flowing in clipped forms. "Reinforcements has departed from New Tallahassee to the east, and will arrive in six hours. Hold until then."

  "Six hours." Xin muttered as he thought of Dragon District. Of the casualty numbers climbing. Of Mrs. Huang and the rice porridge. "Six hours is a very long time."

  "Which brings us," Kenji pulled up the holographic map again. Red markers had spread since they'd last looked. The infection was growing. "to the matter of deployment."

  Dilinur approached the map. "Alliance forces will secure the perimeter and establish defensive positions. But that takes time. Organization. Logistics." Her eyes moved across the four of them: Sigrun, Marcus, Jabari, then Xin at last. "In the interim, I need people on the ground. People who can move fast, hit hard, think on their feet, and buy time for the reinforcements to arrive."

  Marcus straightened. "You want us to hold the line."

  "I want you to help hold it. Work with the city guards. Bolster defensive positions. Provide support where the line is weakest." Dilinur's gaze was steady. "With Batu and Ysolde leading the enemy, I'm not asking you to defeat the Fenris Horde. I'm asking you to help my city survive until dawn."

  Jabari glanced at Sigrun. Then at Marcus.

  "So, you realize," the Griot said slowly, "that less than twelve hours ago, the three of us were trying to kill each other? In those same tunnels you sent us into?"

  "I'm aware." Dilinur's lips curved up in amusement.

  "And now you want us to fight together. Trust each other with our lives."

  "Yes."

  Silence stretched.

  Jabari's smile had returned, though it carried an edge. "Only the Thousand Gods know if we won't kill each other given half a chance."

  "Then don't give each other half a chance." Dilinur's voice brooked no argument. "Whatever grudges you carry, whatever happened in those tunnels—set it aside. For one night. That's all I'm asking."

  Marcus's hand found his medallion again as he began, voice stiff. "Zori teaches that secondary enemies must be tolerated when greater darkness looms. Very well, I'll fight alongside these…non-believers. For tonight."

  "How gracious," Sigrun muttered.

  "Don't push it, heretic."

  "Anansi's arse," Jabari interjected, raising both hands, still smiling. "No killing each other until after we've saved the city. Got it."

  Xin watched the exchange with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He stepped forward, suddenly aware of everyone's attention.

  "So, my belongings." He held up the plastic bag with H?kon's things—the rolled drawings, the coloring book, the crayons. "Can they be stored somewhere secure? They're important."

  He expected dismissal. Annoyance. They were discussing war, and he was asking about crayon storage.

  But Kenji stepped forward without hesitation.

  "I can arrange secure storage." His voice was formal, but something in his eyes had softened. "The administrative vault has environmental controls. Temperature, humidity. Nothing will be damaged."

  "Thank you."

  Xin handed over the bag. Kenji accepted it with the same careful gravity he might have shown classified documents.

  "As for the Diabolisk—" Dilinur began.

  "Yes, he stays with me."

  The words came out sharper than Xin intended. He felt H?kon press closer against his chest, scales flickering to anxious brown.

  Kenji's stylus paused. "Mr. Wu. The administrative palace has secure quarters. Your baby Radi-Mon would be far safer here than in an active combat zone."

  "Thank you, but I must insist that H?kon stays with me."

  Marcus shifted, his armor clinking. "You'd bring a Diabolisk into battle." It wasn't quite a question. "A creature of the enemy."

  "He's not just a Diabolisk. He's my responsibility."

  "He's a Radi-Mon. The same species as Fenris packs."

  "He knows a few Lunar spells. Defensive, and a few healing ones, if needed." Xin moved to the smaller desk to quickly scoop up H?kon with both hands and let the little guy rest in his palms. "He doesn't know what a Fenris pack is. He knows crayons and coloring books and asking for meat buns before bed."

  "This isn't some picnic on the Karma Moor. Your actions could slow us down." Marcus's frown had returned, deeper than before.

  "Also, H?kon has sharp senses. There's strategic values in bringing him with us." Xin's voice didn't waver.

  The Covenant warrior was visibly annoyed now. "Curious. I've never heard of—"

  "He's scared of strangers." Everyone turned to Sigrun.

  She stood with her arms crossed, watching Xin with an expression he couldn't quite read. Not cold. Not warm either. Something in between.

  "The Diabolisk. He's scared of people he doesn't know." Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "All those fancy logical arguments about strategic value and protective magic—they're not wrong. But that's not why you want to bring him."

  Xin's throat tightened.

  "You want to bring him because he's terrified. Because he's three years old and the only safety he knows is you. And you'd rather risk dying beside him than leave him alone, waiting for a father who might not come back."

  "That's..." Xin swallowed. "Yes. That's exactly it!"

  Sigrun nodded once. "Then bring him."

  "Miss Fjeld—" Kenji began.

  "The Diabolisk survived the Warren." Her eyes found the seneschal's, and something in her cerulean gaze made him stop. "The tunnels. The Fenris Radi-Mons. He cast a barrier spell that saved lives."

  Kenji didn't answer.

  H?kon's tiny claws poked at Xin's jacket, scales shifting through uncertain colors. His sapphire eyes moved from face to face, not understanding the words but sensing their weight.

  "Pappa?" His voice was very small. "HAW-koon go with?"

  Xin pulled him close. "Yeah, buddy. You're coming with."

  H?kon's scales slowly cycled back toward calm blue. His small claws gripped Xin's jacket, holding tight.

  "Dragon District, Sector 9." Dilinur repeated as they prepared to leave. "Hold the line until dawn, where Alliance forces arrive. That's all I ask."

  "Any transportation?" Jabari checked his crossbow one final time. "Dragon District is a fair distance from this lovely place."

  "Already arranged." Kenji's stylus moved across his tablet. "A security detail will escort you to the combat zone. They're waiting at the ground floor checkpoint."