ai don fis disha spichen gona op

The spark of something, whether it was annoyance or anger or simply frustration that she was falling prey to some woe is me! line intrigued Echelon.  She smirked and visibly so, delighted on some interior level that she had served as nothing more than a swift barb under Emori's skin.


So crisply, deliberately, Echelon answered her swiftly: "Yes."

It changed the answer greatly, it always would.  Tartok had long been composed of warriors and guardians, but not just in body.  They also excelled in that of mind and it was that sort of banter that Echelon enjoyed.  She was not an adviser, wasn't even much of a warrior, yet she served all of those roles equally in that present.