The Consortium Soldiers seemed quite out of place amongst the more traditionally dressed and ordered Kusarians. The men sat at the rear of the bar, quietly. Their leader sipping a small cup of tea, while his bodyguards sat besides him, scanning the room, but remaining eerily silent.
Unclear to most observers however, were the silent musings, transfers of thoughts between them.
We are unwelcome. They consider us hostile. They are not made aware of our alligances.
They have seen us battle alongside them more times then is nessescary to gain their trust. The alliance remains weak.
The commanding officer sipped his tea and replied, quietly, in plain english.
"This is their turf. They don't like strangers."
There were more then in the room watching the men's conversation. The information played like a book before other officers and commanders. Deliberating in the background. They are aloof and foolish. They revel in their own implied Martyrdom.
We are curious as to their martial strength.
Suspicions must be erased. Their alliance must be ensured.
Their strength and their mindlessness are a paradox. One must be false.
These mental transmissions and discussions were well in the grasp of the Consortium diplomat's consciousness. His word weighed heavy on those around him as he spoke and thought simultaneously at those around him.
"Everything... will be solved... with talk. If they were not at least pragmatic enough to hear and understand us, they would all be long dead. They will see it our way, it is only a matter of explaining the right things to the right people..."
The man looked around, watching to see if anyone had heard him. Speaking again, slightly louder, to anyone who may have overheard.
"...The Dragons value and honor their allies to the extreme, once the veil of distrust and unknowing is lifted."
