“My Kell!” Riknis shouts. “What?” Caluax says. He’s obviously fuming about something. “Firstly, may I ask what troubles you, Archon?” Riknis asks, albeit reluctantly. He knows what happens to poor dregs and vandals when the Kell is in a bad mood. “Those damned Hive. If I didn’t remember what the Great Machine did to my poor Kell, I would hate them more than it.” “What did they do, my Lord?” “Encroachment. They attacked the ruins of Longone again, and three new seeders in Doubling. And Gûtin Shallw stole three kills from me. They could have brought me to a minor Ascendant.” “My deepest condolences, Caulaxell.” Riknis apologizes. “Enough. Why are you here?” Caluax asks. “Our scouting party returned. They tracked a Guardian from the city to the forests. Their Captain tried a piece of your tech, and horribly injured him. They say he collapsed in a ridge, and it’s too tall for him to get out, but they were afraid to kill him, for they knew that you would want him.” Riknis reports. “Imbeciles. I would kill them for it, but they respected me, so they live.” He stands up, picks up his favorite gun, and shouts, “He have a Traveler-Spawn to catch!”