To give a Guardian Wings [Dairut]

[squid peanut 379]

Intro:  Maxwell Rubicante, a beautiful master of fire magic and passion, as well as a recent member of Dairut's wealthy elite, has gained an audience with the city's Council of Seven in order to propose something that he believes will be a great investment for Dairut to make.  He's kept vague with what this proposal entails, and intends to reveal it to the council in the meeting chamber.

The desert sun hung high over the city of Dairut, catching the colorful tents of merchants and residences and the myriad of reflective surfaces that the wealthy residents of Nebu adorned their homes with, luckily, the windows of a magitech carriage that drove down the streets were tinted, allowing its incandescent owner to not be assailed by those mockeries of true brilliance.  This owner was Maxwell Rubicante, who was currently on his way to the city council chambers to get their financial and political support for a project which could push Dairut over the edge, to a major economic force.  The biggest hurdle to this mysterious plan would be the council itself, it took them years to support the plan to build canals, and months to respond to Maxwell's request for an audience.  Maxwell sighed, gazing out the window while leaning his chin on his hand, admiring the giant rock formation that stood above the city.  This giant stone outcropping was called Wasi, an old Velhatien word that meant guardian, and made the massive sprawl of the city below look quite small in comparison.  this looming formation had been there when the city was founded, being made of solid rock it had stayed as impressive as the day the city was founded, and had stayed a part of the cities visual identity as much as the colorful market tents, the decadent palaces, and the intimidating city walls.   Maxwell found it hard to admire Wasi for long however, as a mechanical hum from within the Carriage was starting to annoy him. 

Maxwell looked away from the window "Thomas, I know I said before we left that that thing's noises were nice soothing but that feeling has just passed, be a dear and use that noise canceling spell of yours to, well, cancel its noise."  There were two other people in the carriage besides Maxwell, three if you counted the driver, who was in a separate compartment.  one was a pasty older man who had beady eyes and a droopy face, dressed in a brand new black suit in the style of a butler foreign to this region, he had a closed black umbrella leaning next to him on the seat .  This was Thomas Boyle, a mysterious butler who had been in Maxwell's employ slightly before his arrival in Dairut.  Despite looking like someone who would melt into a puddle even at room temperature, He never seemed to be bothered by the arid climate in the slightest.  like he was so devoted to his job, he didn't even have time for thermodynamics.  The other person was a young, handsome, muscular slave who went by Roger.  He was a favorite of Maxwell's and was chosen to carry an important item and accompany Maxwell with it to the council chamber, Roger was well dressed in an outfit which was custom made for this occasion, a yellow vest and  yellow full length pants with yellow shoes with pointed toes.  He looked like someone had peeled a banana and found a cute weightlifter, named Roger.  these two people sat across from each other on the right while Maxwell had the left to himself wearing a fancy outfit not quite in his usual style, it was made to reflect the traditional formal wear of Dairut, but with extra flourishes and trimmings to communicate the wealth and status that he possessed.  He also wore several pieces of jewelry, most notably, a golden bracer on his left arm with a large round blue gem planted in the middle, the gem looked like it was filled with flowing water swirling around within.  this bracer was magic, and suppressed Maxwell's beguiling fiery aura of unlimited passion.  Lastly, in the middle of the floor was a large ornate case with two handles, the case let out an unending low pitched hum.

"as you wish Master Rubicante" the butler said calmly, as he took his umbrella and tapped the case, silencing the noise with a faint blew wind.  "thank you Thomas" Maxwell said turning back to the window.  Roger had a confused look on his face and spoke up. "Um, Master Rubicante sir, if I may ask, why are we keeping the case in here, couldn't we put it in the trunk and then take it out when we arive?" Maxwell turned around and looked Roger right in the eye before quickly cracking a smile.  "Roger, do you know how much effort it took to get this case to Dairut in working order?  the trip alone took a whole month and constant monitoring from then till now to make sure nothing broke for even a minute.  all of that time and effort was for this day, the contents of this box are imperative for my proposal to the council.  I would have to be an idiot to put such precious cargo in a shaky trunk."  Maxwell taps the case but it makes no sound.  "this is also why you are important Roger, you are the one person I trust to carry this important case to the council chambers and set it down.  This is your big day too Roger, are you worthy of the trust I put in you?". Maxwell leaned forward on the case looking at Roger, who was looking a bit nervous, "yes master, of course master, thank you master."  Maxwell sat back up.  "good, I trust you Roger."  The Carriage comes to a stop.  "oh, and it seems we've arrived!"

Roger looks out the window to see the city hall of Dairut, an impressive building that sat on a hill, with a long flight of stairs leading to it from the street bellow

Edited November 17, 2019 by squid peanut
I reread the post and realized it desperatly needed an edit

[squid peanut 379]

The First to get out was Boyle, who stood attentively as Roger climbed out and picked up the large case by its handles.  He then stood at the opposite side and the two of them bowed as Maxwell emerged gracefully from the carriage, small sparkles of light surrounding him.  Boyle then closed the doors behind Maxwell and signaled the driver to head off, Maxwell lead the other two up the stairs to the council building.  If there was a way to climb stairs fabulously, Maxwell was doing it, catching the attention of city officials and guards who were sweating under the desert sun, Maxwell looked unperturbed by the heat as did Boyle, while Roger was starting to sweat in his fancy clothes, carrying the large case up a flight of stairs in the middle of the day.  they reached the top of the stairs without any issues and entered the building, which was thankfully cooler than outside.  Maxwell knew where the Council was expecting him and then guards reaffirmed it by pointing him in the direction to the chamber.  The door to the chamber was big and intimidating, but Maxwell walked up to it with a confident stride and asked one of the guards beside it to announce his arrival.  she agreed and opened the door, announcing Maxwell's arrival to the counsel and letting him in.

Spoiler

DM will be needed for the council

 

Edited November 16, 2019 by squid peanut

[Die Shize 4,269]

Small Council Chamber

Use only as aesthetic reference and not for technical details of setting

Council of Seven

Spoiler

Eirene
Acting leader of the Seven

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Alzahra
Leader of the Assassin's Guild

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Basinah
Head Madam of the brothels

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Khafre
Commander-in-Chief of Dairut's military

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Asar
Master Artificer of Dairut

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Kayan
Master Spellworker of Dairut

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Raven of Ramin
Delegate of Ramin

OOC Music

Spoiler

 

The Seven

The Small Council Chamber lived up to all three words within its name. Relative to the palace’s council hall, where the ceiling was high, the floors sprawled for yards on end and the chairs could seat a wide array of members, this other chamber was as small as the group that comprised the council. It was purposed for discussions and debates, dealings and delegations, that warranted only the council themselves, with on occasion one guest or few others more. This was the room where one Maxwell Rubicante would be bidden entry, here where he would dare to put forth whatever proposal he had since placed in his head, and hope that seven souls staring him down would be convinced that his was worth considering. 

 

The chamber was cool and comfortable, and not uncannily so, with the whole palace having controlled temperatures to beat back the heat of the outside. The room was such that it highlighted the wealth and grandeur of those who occupied it, without as much frippery as of the council hall where the very architecture was a bastion of power. In the Small Council Chamber, it was the council itself that displayed its own authority, where a guest had all the intimacy of close walls and silence and the sun that slipped through the windows in rays of light.

 

Black and white tiles of sanded marble marked the floor, surrounded by stone walls with carvings of faces both man and beast, as impassive as the dead or as passionate as an enraged dragon. Tapestries of red and blue, gold and grey, hung from the walls, some embedded with rubies and sapphires and emeralds so small that they were only noticeable as they twinkled amid the sunlight and a person’s own movement. Paintings also layered the walls, depicting Dairut, Slaver's Alcove, the Velhatien Desert; a gladiator holding a spear above his defeated foe; a train of shackled slaves; and one painting showed seven obelisks in the desert surrounding an oasis.

 

That painting hung at the back of the chamber, facing the entrance, and before the painting was a semicircle of petrified wood; a table that curved toward the doors, and behind it were seven high-backed chairs made of obsidian, trimmed with gold and silver and embedded with purple cushions. No seat in the room was left unoccupied, save for an eighth. Just before the curved table was a wooden chair, simpler and unassuming, but instead of facing the table it faced the entrance. It might be the first or second sight that Maxwell Rubicante would take in as he entered the chamber, with fourteen eyes searching for his only two. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the center of the table sat a woman, but not just any, with a serpentine body from head to tail amid two arms. Her name was Eirene, an old and powerful being, one of the founders of Dairut, and she was the de facto leader of the council.

 

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To Eirene's left, in no symbolic sequence, sat Khafre, the Commander-in-Chief of Dairut’s military. A large, bronze-skinned man, muscular and broad-shouldered, and rumored to have been a former gladiator.

 

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Left of Khafre sat Alzahra, a dark-skinned woman with a vacant countenance, and leader of the Assassin’s Guild. She wore a red hood that cast a subtle shadow over her face in the sunlit room. 

 

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To Alzahra's left sat Kayan, a being taken to his stone golem form, a mass of rock draped with robes. He was Dairut’s master spellworker, responsible in part for the city’s magical barriers and wards.

 

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To the right of Eirene sat Basinah, the wealthiest madam and brothel keeper in all of Dairut. Her reputation preceded her own beauty, though any that rested on her face was all too hidden behind a mask that covered it. 

 

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To Basinah's right sat Asar, Dairut’s master artificer, who supplied the city’s armies and citizens with various wares. He was a large man, bald and dark-skinned, with a grayed, braided beard. 

 

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To Asar’s right was no being like any of the others, including Eirene. All they called this one was the “Raven of Ramin”, for indeed this was not a council member but the surrogate of one. Little was known of the sorcerer Ramin, and what few meetings he ever attended he did not do so personally. This occasion was no different. Upon the chair was a wooden frame, a single beam allowing for the raven’s talons to curl around as it gazed out with eyes as birdlike as any other. 

                   

 

They would all watch and wait to see what the man who had requested an audience with them would do, whether he would stand beside the lone chair or sit down, or turn it to face the table and then sit down. The council's table was supplied with silver goblets and platters of fruits and nuts and bread and cheese, flagons of wine and jugs of water, while beside the lone chair before the table was another table not so different from a stool. Upon it was a jug of water and a clay cup, and a plate of crackers. He could have a drink and a bite to eat, or so it might be assumed. It was generally polite to ask first, but maybe merely asking to partake in food and drink would conversely insult what might have been the etiquette of hospitality that may be rightfully expected.

 

First impressions were everything. One wrong move could greatly determine the course of this meeting. The Seven, they were called, and they were that many to but one man. Not one of them spoke a word, leveling their attention with Maxwell Rubicante, and letting him speak first—if he dared.

Edited November 24, 2019 by Die Shize

[squid peanut 379]

Maxwell adored the tension in the room, this was a place that oozed with pressure, and pressure was the means by which diamonds and stars were created.  the council members' gazes were the icing on the cake, it was the kind of audience that Maxwell would die for.  Limiting his excitement to a warm smile under sharply bright eyes, Maxwell walked towards the small table with a calm and confident stride, the footsteps echoing loudly throughout the room.  Roger and Boyle followed Maxwell into the room, but stayed by the door at attention.  Both were still as statues, though Roger now looked like he had just been watered.

Maxwell stood beside the small table, he had no intention to sit as of yet.  He wanted to appeal to council, not be their dog.  Nevertheless, Maxwell Bowed deeply before the council, with a couple unavoidable flourishes on his part.  "Esteemed members of the Council of Seven, I, Maxwell Rubicante, thank you deeply for your hospitality and decision to grant me audience on this day.  Since I first stepped foot in this great city, I was amazed that such a metropolis could exist in a place many would think uninhabitable.  Even these days, as I walk these streets as I have for many years now; I still stand amazed at the beauty of this desert rose.  Thanks, in no small part, to the wisdom and brilliance of this very council."
Maxwell Returned to standing up right.  "It is as an eternal Devotee to Dairut and its supreme beauty that I stand before you all now, intent on sharing a project that will allow this city to shine even brighter.   This project will not only transform Dairut's economy into a transcendental form, but lead Dairut on a path to be the wealthiest city in all of Valucre.  All will know to respect the power of Dairut's money, and her illustrious council."

Maxwell snaps his fingers and Roger flinches, before quickly walking over to Maxwell's side, carrying the large, heavy case. The tension was getting to Roger, and if he wasn't already covered in sweat, he would have been now, luckily, he didn't buckle under the pressure.  Maxwell took the case from Roger with a single hand, holding it before the council.  As Roger stiffly walked back to his place by the door, Maxwell pressed a button on the side of the case, causing four metal table legs extended from beneath it, allowing the case to stand 4ft off the floor.  Maxwell then unlatched the top of the large, sturdy case and opened it, revealing a large magitech device within.  The device appeared to be metal, and produced a humming noise from a multitude of gauges and gears, which were connected to a scattered number of buttons and switches. 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the council, this is the cornerstone of why I seek your help.  This device is an experimental design of a revolutionary technology designed by accomplished minds in Umbra who were funded by me."  Maxwell pushed a series of buttons and flipped a number of switches, causing the mechanical whirling to cease and the machine to go silent.  then, a blast of cold air hissed out of the mechanical box before it too opened.  revealing a padded container filled with what looked like fresh snow.  "This is fresh snow from the Cold Mountains of the Arcane East.  It has traveled from there to here in Dairut where it has stayed for five months, without melting or solidifying, all because of this box.  If the members of the council are willing, it is said that this snow is regarded as a delicacy, and I believe that such a delicacy should first be enjoyed in Dairut by the council.  As for how such a feat was possible, this box can preserve any perishable for extended periods of time in excellent condition."  Maxwell's smile widens.  "and, there exists designs for a version that is far larger and cheaper than this.  The only issue is that transporting such large and delicate machinery across the Valhatien dessert is impractical by our current trade routes.  However, there is a way to make such a design viable, and many other things that have been up till now logistically impossible.  Now is the time for Dairut to build an Airship port and conquer the skies!"

[Die Shize 4,269]

OOC Recurring Theme

Spoiler

 

Maxwell Rubicante was a man of wealth, having climbed the ladder to his present position through his trading and slaving. Neither enterprise was uncommon in the Slaver’s Alcove, but, then, neither was a person’s wealth within Slaver’s Enclave. For all his own, for his footprint in Nebu with his Palace of the Earthbound Star, and his handprint in the Etiquette Bazaar with his warehouse and business, Maxwell Rubicante was still one rung shy from the top of the ladder, and then some. 

He, at least, had no illusions of this truth. The man had not waltzed into this chamber to stand above those who sat, but seemed to stand in respect for the ones who sat. He, too, had not twirled the chair to slump back in it, to down his water and swallow his crackers, though it was just as well that he might have been neither hungry nor thirsty. In the end, prying eyes that dissected Maxwell Rubicante were overall void of expressing the reactions of the minds within it. Perhaps the man had made the right moves. Perhaps he had not. 

He regarded his superiors for being just so, addressing them with manner and reverence, if not outright flattery. The latter was not inherently transparent; it could pay well to pay your respects to those were greater than you, and the worst thing that he could have done was forsake any formalities as though these seven individuals who regarded him were equal to or lower than his own stance. When he bowed, he followed protocol, but what kind of expression was he wearing when his head dipped too low for his face to be seen?

The man went on with his words, praising the “illustrious” councilors before him, but, if he wasn’t already, soon he might be in jeopardy of stretching his compliments too far. Maybe he knew that as he moved onto the main course regarding his invitation to dine with the Seven. One of Maxwell Rubicante’s hands snapped its fingers, and one of his servants was bidden over with a large ornate case. Eyes watched, doing anything from narrowing to widening, more so when four metal legs jutted out beneath the case. However, to the Seven’s shared assurance, their guest and his two peers had since been assessed for security before they had even entered the chamber, whether they knew it or not. Whatever he brought with him, it was no assassination attempt. No, magitech is what gazed out of the box, with a hum to its greeting. 

Several among the seats stirred ever so subtly, whether to shift in their chairs, lean forward, stroke their chins or simply take a drink. One of them was Asar, the artificer, who cocked a brow that more smiled than raised and ran his fingers down the length of his grayed beard. What he was gazing upon was the art of technology, all the way from Umbra no less, or so this Maxwell Rubicante had claimed. Nonetheless, Asar was fixated as the speaker manipulated his device, from the hiss of cold air to the container of snow. That was when Asar smiled with his own two lips.

And then, after the preliminary display, Maxwell Rubicante had gotten to the core of his reason for being here: airships. His request to meet with the Council of Seven had been executed months after the submission and, when all would be said and done, it seemed that his proposal would ultimately boil down to that single item: the development of an airship port, the airships that came with it, and the expansion of the Dairut economy by consequence. Simple things, when put into words, but the same things that offered a whole new world of complexity that these seven souls would have to consider, both individually and as a group.  

 

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Asar

"The snow, if you will. Let me see it." Asar watched expectantly as the container was passed over. He let some of the white powder pour out in his hands, shifting it this way and that way, letting it spill between his fingers to land on the table beneath his gaze. "Cold to the touch..." He licked his finger. "Watery... Expected." All the while, his peers studied him as much as the snow. It seemed sufficient that one of them was testing the substance so that the others need not. In the end, of course, Asar himself would admit that it was only snow. It was the potential of the contraption that mattered most. They all lived in a land that went from warm to hot with not much room for variation.

Sure, Dairut had its own means of keeping cold that which they wished, the least of which wasn't ice magic. Yet, not every homeowner was a mage, and cold beer or frozen meats would certainly deepen the market. And my own pockets. I could use a machine like this, or a larger one for that matter. They only see it for what it is. I see it for what it can be. Today it gave me snow from the mountains. Tomorrow, it can give me mountains. Asar had long since learned that an artificer was more than met the eye as much as the machine before him. He could take something apart, find out what made it tick, then put it back together, having learned more secrets in one day than a master of whisperers in one week.

"If an airship could bring me a bigger version," Asar began as he passed the container back to its owner, letting the scattered snow steadily melt on the tabletop. "Then I would be more inclined to think of the long-term value of such a machine..." Knowingly, he trailed off, side-glancing those who sat to his left and right. He knew how some would take his words, and how others would take them. His gaze locked with Maxwell's. "As for airships, I probably know more about such machines than the others who share this table. I don't need to think of their long-term value—I know it." With that, Asar drank deeply from his tankard of ale and wiped his lips, though not their smile. "As much as I know my heart's desire to own one for myself."

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Khafre

 

 

"So spoke the half-dwarf." Khafre scoffed, sipping from his goblet of red wine to ease the scorn in his throat and the drum of a voice that came out of it. "The human half of you stands as tall as me, Asar, but the beard betrays your dwarf side with your talent for tinkering and a heart that beats with greed." Asar regarded Khafre coolly, choosing to refrain from playing with him this round, even as their eyes met and the artificer's looked as cold as ice. But you stare into flames, tinkerer, and they burn from a heart that would keep this desert from freezing.

"An...interesting...machine you bring us, Maxwell...Rubicon, was it?" Khafre shrugged. "Though I'm kind of taken to drinking hot tea beneath a blazing sun. I have little need for an icebox, save to put my enemies in the grave when I put my sword through their heart." He knocked back the contents of his cup and shifted it aside hard enough that it gave a scraping ring. "My fellow councilors," he gestured at them with an open hand. "Most of them are so concerned with power, prestige, profit. But I am most concerned with preservation." At that, his hand became a fist, and he planted it slowly but firmly on the tabletop, searching for his guest's gaze.

"I am not a salesman, but a soldier. A soldier who yet shares something in common with the slaves beneath me: I have given this city my sweat, my tears, my blood. The sand is stained with them. Your airships would seek to blow that sand away. They would open our economy up, yes, as much as they would open us up to enemies." Khafre pointed a stern finger at his listener. "Dairut is a jewel in a wasteland. What you propose would only bring waste to our land."

---

There was silence after Khafre had spoken his piece, at least among the other council members who parted no lips of their own to respond or retort or to speak anew. Their turn would come. For now, they waited and watched, giving little and less away from their countenances as far as what their own stances would be. Alzahre, the assassin, sipped her wine and bowed her gaze to the table; Basinah's face was a mystery behind her mask; Kayan plucked a grape to toss it up and down into his grip; Eirene drummed her fingernails atop the table, her eyes never straying from Maxwell; and a feint echo crossed the chamber as the Raven of Ramin cawed.

Edited November 25, 2019 by Die Shize

[squid peanut 379]

Maxwell was glad he held a legitimate appreciation for the council, it let him sprinkle in some genuine emotion to his praising of them.  The best that mortals could achieve in their short lived passion was to be charming, and the fire that burned throughout the council, certainly had Maxwell charmed.  He just wanted to dress them up and have them preform for him.  But this was hardly the time, and the head of the table was clearly a crafty one, tempered by both the years of ruling this desert and the years beyond even that.  She would be sure to notice if Maxwell spent too long on personal fantasies, as it would begin to show on his face. 

upon hearing Asar's request, Maxwell carefully removed the bowl of snow from within the Magitech device and handed it to Asar.  Once Asar had said his peace, Maxwell put his hands together and showed a great big smile. "I'm so glad you can see the potential in this device and this project councilman Asar~.  The modern trade economy runs on airships, and by owning Dairut's sky port, airship based trade can be monitored and controlled by the city.  The means of airship construction and maintenance will be readily available, and Dairut will be free to enforce taxes and fees on private use of such a port." Maxwell returned to standing by the table and chair, with the snow bowl if Asar was done looking at it.

Maxwell looked to Khafre with his full attention, brushing aside the slight against his magnificent name.  "Councilman Khafre, with utmost respect I must disagree.  Dairut is already open to her enemies, especially in regards to the source of her wealth, the Velhatien Desert.  Up until this point, a foreign power controlling the Velhatien desert has been impossible.  mechanized infantry are useless, natural resources are hidden, and the environment is unapologeticly hostile.  As airships become an integral part of foreign militaries however, These hostile forces can simply circumvent the desert and take the numerous mines, quarries, and settlements for themselves.  With the growing prevalence of sky pirates throughout the continent, it's only a matter of time before our mines and caravans become the targets of airborne raids.  Even, Dairut itself will be under threat.   Dairut is not prepared for an air based attack.  Airships can fly over the city walls and the jagged landscape, and the city lacks any Ranged weapons with the piercing power to damage armored warships.  The gap in military technology is reaching the point where this 'jewel in a wasteland' will become little more than an ornament
on the crown of some would-be emperor!"  Maxwell took a moment to sigh.  He had gotten a bit too heated for his liking.  He's here to convince, not demand.  Yet still...

Maxwell continued looking at Khafre, Maxwell was no longer smiling, but the warm calm air about him still persisted. "Airships are the one way that Dairut can ensure its sovereignty.  Newer models can cross the desert without breaking down, and soon it will reach a point where conquering Dairut would be logistically feasible.  With airships of our own, the Dairutian military would be able to trivially protect the desert from anyone that seeks to make Dairut their enemy.  deploying the city guard to track down bandits would become sending out one or two ships that find and destroy them and their nests from the safety of the air."  Maxwell smiled again, his eyes keeping sharp.  "with a strong Navy, no one who steps foot in the Velhatien Desert would dream of challenging this city's sovereignty.  They need only look to look up and see that the skies belong to Dairut."  Maxwell stopped focusing on Khafre so much, he wanted to know how his covering on military applications went over with the whole council.

[Die Shize 4,269]

OOC Recurring Theme

Spoiler

 

 

Khafre
 

 

 

 

The fist that had taken Khafre’s hand tightened till he felt the edges of his trimmed fingernails dig into his palm. Maxwell Rubiconte was a man of guts, and a man of gall. He had proven as much by his tone and the words that came with it. Despite his intentions, whatever his convictions toward the city he lived in, he was in no position to be so daring. Speaking to the demise of Dairut was one thing, even hypothetically, but lashing a pointed tongue toward the Commander of Dairut’s armed forces was something else entirely. Khafre would not forget it. 

 

He measured his gaze with his speaker all the way through, flinching not one muscle, feeling only a slight twitch on a brow. When Maxwell had said enough, he had said enough. Impudent runt. It was for the presenter’s good fortune that he hadn’t actually gone so far as to directly insult the man who sat before him. If he had, then what happened next would have been quite different. 

 

“I’ve taken heads as ornaments for speaking to me in a manner that I do not like. They, too, thought that they had a good idea.” Khafre folded his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. “But, in reality, they had no idea just how bad of an idea they had, and then they no longer had a head.” Yours I might just feed to the scarabs. “You speak to me, to us—” He gestured toward his fellow councilors. “—As though you’ve spent your years in this city without a clue as to how it has survived without your ranged weapons and airships.”

 

Khafre winced in disgust. “I could beat a slave senseless and still he would have the sense to know of Dairut’s true power; that it doesn’t come from guns or flying things, not from gold or silver or steel, or flesh or wine or the seven souls in these chairs...but from the very sand outside these walls, from the golden sun and the pale moon, the dunes and the canyons.” He grinned. “Oh, we’ve seen the ships in the sky, sir, but I stake my life that not one of them has seen us. Dairut is a jewel in a wasteland, yes. Better, it is a pearl, and make no mistake that the wasteland is the shell of that pearl. No one may even gaze upon this city except for the mercy of the city itself. Just as it suffered your gaze.”

 

Khafre watched Maxwell’s face, waiting for a quiver. Try me, little man. “I shall suffer no more of your tongue.” He picked up a flagon and refilled his goblet, red liquid cascading into metal. “My own tongue is making me thirsty.”

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Asar

“The way you pour and look at that drink, Commander, the more I think that you wish it were blood instead of wine.” Asar teased. Khafre shot him a dangerous look, but really every element of Commander Khafre was dangerous from dusk to dawn. That was nothing new. Asar ignored him and looked back at Maxwell Rubicante. 

 

“Forgive my counterpart. He is sore. Military men often are. I, however, am all too delighted by your proposal. Airships can offer Dairut a whole new sword and shield that her own fighting men and women cannot, brave though they are. Further, we would literally have a whole new avenue to advance our economy; new trade routes, new goods and more of them, relationships and renown.” He bit off a wedge of goat’s cheese and licked his teeth before resuming. “Ah, the more I talk, the more carried away I get!” Another glimpse at Khafre. “And the more content I am that my cup is filled with ale instead of wine, lest the latter turn to blood in my mouth.” 

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Eirene

 

 

“Enough.” A long, slender tongue darted between her lips in a hiss, her eyes on Maxwell Rubicante even while she spoke to her peers. “The proposal that this man brings to our table is of great consideration. It touches our hearts as well as our minds, in different ways for each of us. Let yourself be moved as you will, with passion and pragmatism, but do not turn this council chamber into a fighting pit.” She drummed her fingernails with a grin. “That's what Tartarus is for.”

 

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Kayan

 

 

The grape came up then came down. Came up, came down. Up, down. That was when it burst. The toss had been gentle. The stone grip, not so much. "Oops." Kayan opened his great hand and frowned at the busted grape. As fond as I am for this form, I still can't seem to get that right.

 

"He's right." Kayan spoke to Maxwell Rubicante, but about someone else. "The tinkerer—" He held up a hand in apology. Asar hadn't seemed to notice either way. "—Sorry, I mean, the artificer, probably does know more about airships than the rest of us, but I know more about the 'power' that Khafre speaks of. As master spellworker, I had better. Our sandy lands aren't just mystical. Not merely magical. It is no simple strike of disorientation and danger that kills those who try and fail to find our walls... It is quite something else."

 

Studying the ruined fruit in his hand, Kayan raised a brow. "There is a force in this desert that does not quite know itself. It can cradle our city at the same time as crushing a poor traveler. And its walls are stronger than stone." He curled his fingers in. The grape disappeared within his fist. "With a ceiling that can neither be peered into nor pried open."

 

---

Eirene

 

 

Eirene cast her glowing blue eyes upon the lone man standing before her. "A truth carried even on the backs of the worker ants. I am inclined to agree. Though, as much as we are a mystery to the outside, the outside is a mystery to us, for better or worse." Many mysteries, indeed. The snow machine had been cute, and the children would love to play in heaps of it, but the sky port that he proposed was either a heap of fortune or a heap of trouble. And what you are, Maxwell Rubicante? Are you a man of fortune or a man of trouble? A corner of her lips tugged upward. Maybe both? 

 

“You’ve heard a couple of viewpoints so far, Maxwell Rubicante, at which point it seems fitting I inform how this meeting will play out.” She paused a moment, enjoying the quiet as her nails clicked atop petrified wood. “You know who we are, as members of the Council of Seven, but perhaps not how our decision will be made. Simply put, we will take a vote and settle for the majority. You need not convince us all but, well…” She cocked her head toward the Commander. “It is also in your best interest to try your best to convince us all.” Yours and mine. 

With a pointed gaze, Eirene took in a slow, steady breath, her bosom rising, a bra of gold generously exposed amid bare skin as smooth as her scales. “We are the Seven: charged with the governance and protection of Dairut, the greatest city that ever was or will be.” She let that truth sink in. “Any offer you bring to our table had better be one that you are personally convinced is worth bringing to our table. I trust that you are. In turn, do trust that any reservation on our part, even from just one of us, is based on what we feel is Dairut’s best interest. A sky port, and airships, may or may not be that.”

Sighing, Eirene leaned back in her chair and rested a goblet of wine in her lap. “How many airships have you traveled in, Maxwell Rubicante?" It was a musing query, but also an important one. "Have you piloted any? Constructed any? Fought in any?” She took a leisurely sip of her wine and licked her lips. Made love in any?

Edited November 27, 2019 by Die Shize

[squid peanut 379]

The hotheadedness of the military commander was simply charming.  Maxwell loved watching him struggle with boiling over at words Maxwell would hardly qualify as infuriating.  Perhaps he should tell the Khafre about the incident that had occurred in just the past month, where a privately owned Airship landed but an hour away from the city, and may have been the primary suspects in the brutal murder of a well regarded slave trainer.  But it seemed pointing out the weakness of Dairut's current military would get Maxwell nowhere.  Perhaps it would be better to have the councilman defend the shortsightedness of his strategy.

Maxwell spoke with not a hint of fear or resignation in his voice. "This is completely true, councilman Khafre and councilman Kayan, Dairut is truly the pearl resting in the shell of the mighty Velhatien Desert and the mystical powers that protect these lands from unwanted attention.  However, a nation is more than Just a single city.  As it stands the safety of the villages and tribes that provide Dairut with its riches and resources are under threat.   As airships become resistant to the desert heat, the plague of air pirates that torment the rest of the continent will flock to prey on our mines and caravans.  Current events are leading to the formation of empires and kingdoms seeking to spread their sphere of influence.  The Carmine Empire is already looking to expand with their vassal of Port Caelum having financed expeditions into the Velhatien desert and Bloodstone Marsh with the intention of establishing colonies.  Besides the intent of foreign powers there is still the increasing number of bloodgears forming herds and threatening mining operations.  Without Dairut taking a larger presence financially and militaristically, we will see our territory reduced and our livelihoods threatened.  This project can give Dairut the means to prevent these things."  Maxwell wanted the threats that existed to be known to the council.  He sighed and shrugged with his hands.  "The world has become a very dangerous place recently."  "still!"  He clapped his hands together and showed the biggest and brightest smile yet.

Maxwell looked to the Lamia as she spoke.  Such a fine specimen, Maxwell had always been rather fond of Lamias, it always felt that they had been cut from the same passionate cloth.  This one seemed particularly 'fun', there were clear hints in the body language alone.  But was it a test, a game, or flirtation.  "Lady Eirene, it is as one who has visited many of the cities of Genesaris that I stand before you today.  I have not built an airship with my own two hands as I haven't the time, but I have ridden in many over my travels and investigated the businesses that do construct them.  If this project is approved, I am in contact with a number of experienced Airship engineers, willing to immigrate to Dairut to assist in developing airships and training our artisans in how to build them.  Of course I've taken the time to make sure their complete loyalty can be expected.  Beyond that I have acquired through various means a number of blueprints used in foreign Sky ports.  I've had a private architectural firm create a preliminary blueprint, a mock up, and generate an overhead for the project.  The cost isn't that much more than the canal system for a larger port, given the local abundance of metal.   on that topic, with the nearing completion of the city wide canal system.  A new civil project will allow us to keep the engineers and laborers that the city already has hired.  which will save money from having to renegotiate Hiring, and give a boon to firms that can also help with airship development.   It is sure to be something that notable merchants, guilds, and mining companies will quickly come to support, as it represents a boom in foreign trade both in variety and quantity.  As stated before, it will also allow for Dairut to more actively protect its territory and resources.  Particularly The Vehatien Desert's deposits of Exalta crystals and the numerous metals used in modern airships.  Dairut stands to be self sufficient in providing most materials for airship construction, Something that even some whole countries struggle with.  This port will pay for itself in taxing ships alone, and make the city unprecedented wealth by increasing the volume that our merchants can participate in foreign trade as well as the security we can provide for our territory." Maxwell wondered if any of the council had expected him to be this prepared.  The months it took for them to accept him for an audience had given him plenty of time to get a head start on things. 

[Die Shize 4,269]

OOC Music [Recurring]

Spoiler

 

Eirene

 

 

As Eirene’s eyes beheld the man before her, they sought to vamp his own gaze into hers, as much as lingering on him with a lust to learn more. Maxwell Rubicante, he was rich and powerful enough to own an estate under his name, a slice of pie at the Bazaar, a status of trading and training slaves, and no doubt the granting of his request to meet with the Council of Seven. A nobody had no such privilege; the Seven would not suffer to listen to the tongues of insects. Khafre might view this one as just that, but perhaps we shall yet see. 

 

The man was versed and learned, smart and sophisticated, but his qualities were not limited to his inner workings. He was tall and lean beneath his dress to impress. His hair was red and flowing like flames, his eyes as red as autumn leaves, and for a moment Eirene felt herself spellbound by them, having to blink herself out of a split-second trance. Figuratively, perhaps—no soul could stare into her eyes the way she stared into souls—but the look that came her way was as daring as inviting. He could stand still and move at the same time, with lights twinkling around him like drifting glitter flaked from stars. Maxwell, he was pleasing to the eyes, his voice like honey in the ears. But perhaps too aware of himself for his own good. 

 

“You clearly have done your homework. It pays to be prepared, though one might think that you entered this room so well prepared expecting no other outcome but the fulfillment of your proposal.” Eirene’s fingernails tapped against the metal of her goblet as she smiled. “One might accuse you of being anywhere from a tad presumptuous to overly so...but I can appreciate confidence when I see it.” Among other things.

 

“You’ve lived in Dairut long enough. You know how the flow of coin is as valuable, as sacred, as the flow of blood. The latter courses through the veins of the people within these walls, from slave to master, just as gold courses through the veins of ore outside these walls. When we wish to take blood from a slave, we poke it with a knife. Gold from an ore, we tap it with a pick. Both are viewed as commodities, resources, and it is no coincidence that the slave is the one who mines the gold.

 

“The throne of Dairut is sat by the masters, and the throne is placed atop the backs of the slaves. It is not just a way of economy but a way of life. That is the pearl inside the shell, Maxwell Rubicante. To glimpse the pearl, the shell must first be opened. Yet, with a skyport outside our walls, as naked as a prostitute on a bed of sand, it will gleam and glow like a gem brighter than any pearl.” Just then, Eirene’s eyes flashed into Maxwell’s gaze, or maybe they hadn’t. He wouldn’t be able to know for certain.

 

“We all like gems, such as the one on your bracer, and that includes pirates and more. They could very well see your shining port a moment too soon, and swoop down to pluck the gem and then the pearl. Later, even, what ten airships we hold may find themselves up against twenty, when vessels have left their trails in the clouds for the birds of prey to follow right back to our nest. There are many in this world who would take one glance at our little Enclave and scowl at the word that precedes it; zealous creatures bent on freeing slaves and killing masters.”

With another steady breath, Eirene licked wine from her lips, opening her mouth just wide enough to reveal long fangs. “One can’t help but wonder if our nest might be broken just before or after our own birds take flight.”

---

Alzahra

 

 

 

She had been listening intently to the proceedings, the exchange of speech between councilors and candidate. Khafre, with his xenophobia and his temper, both beating beside a heart that craved to conserve the sands of Slaver’s Enclave and keep Dairut for Dairutians. Asar, as opportunistic as ever, leaping at the opportunity to expand his wealth and his wares and take a tool to these ships of air. Kayan, saying everything and nothing, more reflecting on some spiritual truth of the land than representing any clear-cut viewpoint on the matter at hand. Eirene, her forked tongue lapping at the play, keeping reins on her stance while she sought to attach them on this Maxwell Rubicante, and tug. 

 

But I have long since cut off my reins. No other being may steer me. Alzahra looked across the countenances from the shadow of her hood. A necklace was in her hands, red and yellow beads grazing over her fingers one by one. The individuals around her, each with their own agenda, would never see things the way that she did. Khafre would, if he wasn't so blinded by his own fury. Maybe they were of old blood, like Eirene, or new blood, like Asar, or even new money, like Maxwell Rubicante, but Alzahra’s house was undying. 

 

Her family was there in the ancient days. They were there when Dairut’s ancestors carved their names in the sand with fire and blood and steel. When the scourge screamed across the desert and the whips drove the slaves to build their masters a city. The Age of Conquest had brought her kindred here today, though now was an age of consumption. The silver platters proved it, with their grapes and their cheeses, but the proposal brought to this chamber was on a platter made of the same metal that propelled airships. Father, if you had eyes on me now, your lips would smile. 

 

“In the old days,” Alzahra began, making sure she had the floor. “We walked on two legs or rode on four, taking what is ours and keeping what we conquered. This city would still be a pit of sand otherwise.” Her eyes narrowed on Maxwell Rubicante. “I am an assassin who leads a number more. That one speaks of the flow of blood,” She glanced at Eirene. “And I live for it. These “airships” sound like beasts that can burden us across the world. For some of us, that means more ways to make money. For me, it means more ways to kill.”

The necklace stopped moving, held by hands that closed around it, leaving it hanging between fingers as she squared her gaze on Maxwell. “Put me in a ship, give me a name and flip the sandglass. If I manage to silence that name then I will drape their skin over the bow and return home with their head in one of your ice chests." Her eyes shifted around the room. "Then we shall see if a sky port is worth anymore talk.”

Edited November 29, 2019 by Die Shize

[squid peanut 379]

As one in tune to passion in all its forms, the vibes emanating from the people throughout the room.  Roger was doing quite well given the circumstances, he was standing at attention with a dedication that would give Mr. Boyle a run for his money.  Such a cute pet, Maxwell knew training him was worth the effort.  Eirene's intentions were becoming more and more clear.  It was like the tests of those early shepherds, building a fence around wild beasts to see which ones stayed.  She probably sought domestication and subservience, to see if Maxwell was someone she could use without being bitten.  Maxwell had no reservations to being a subordinate, for a time; But, he still wanted to make sure that he was at the head of this project.  There would be too many risks about the future otherwise.  Domesticated with pride, let's see if she didn't wish for a dog, and can settle for a cat of sorts. 

"Lady Eirene, I did not realize your silver tongue was also that of a pet.  Your concerns have a firm basis, but I assure you, and the council, that time is still on Dairut's side.  successful sky pirates are in no rush to replace their current airships with ones that can easily traverse the desert, and now isn't the season for new air pirate crews to arise, not enough disenfranchised sailors.  Extremest anti-slavery factions aren't as common as they once were, and the ones that do exist are more preoccupied with larger nations.  Dairut's slave trade is already flourishing thanks to these changes, but we don't have a way to dominate the international market, without airships." The only threat that Dairut currently has to worry about are the Bloodgears, luckily there isn't much fear that the troupes will wander all the way to Dairut anytime soon.

Maxwell closed the magitech device and case up in such a way that it created a flat surface. "I would not bother the council with a naive idea based on impulsive greed.  This project is calculated and one which I am willing to risk my livelihood on.  With the council's support, I can provide Dairut with a sky port and navy able to facilitate intercity trade and military applications within the span of two years.  With a third year, Dairut's sky port will be the envy of the world over.  And all, from the safety of Dairut's very own shell." Here comes part two.

Maxwell snapped his fingers and Thomas Boyle approached, carrying a decently large box, that he definitely had not walked in with.  He silently placed the box on top of the closed case, bowed to the council, then to Maxwell, and then returned to where he stood before.  Maxwell stood behind the box and placed his hand on top of the box.  "As I said before, I have already had a mock up made of the planned design.  A, model if you will.  There is danger in constructing a sky port where anyone can find it, so why not build it where only those who can go to Dairut can find it." 

Maxwell and removed the box's walls and top from its base by lifting it by the sides.  underneath there was a very well detailed model, depicting a section of Dairut around a landmark anyone who had been to the city would recognize.  Wasi, the colossal stone that could be seen from anywhere throughout the city.  But, this model wasn't a one to one recreation, the Wasi depicted had structures going from about midway up the desert mountain all the way to the top, connected together and to the ground by what looked like cords at this scale, but could be seen to resemble a number of large elevators. Parts of the rock had been carved into and reinforced with tiny depictions of airships in various states of completion and maintenance throughout, above that was a number of platforms carved into and hanging out of the rock face, the featured structures that resembled a mix between the etiquette Bazaar and Nebu.  The platforms also depicted a number of airships with different sizes and designs docked at these platforms.  Higher still was a section near the top which resembled a fortress more than a bazaar and port.  This part featured a number of docks and stationary canons as well as larger facilities and warehouses.

Maxwell placed the removed top on the floor and motioned to the model with visible pride.  "The mock up turned out really well.  The Wasi is the perfect place to construct Dairut's sky port.  With its elevation exceeding 1000 meters, it provides safety from sandstorms, noise pollution, and espionage.  The landform is solid stone all the way to bedrock, making it one of the solidest foundations this side of the great lake, it would take Infernalis himself to move this formation.  It's big enough to facilitate commercial ports, military fortifications, and a Dry dock, with plenty of room to expand further.  By placing it above the city, The sky port can use Dairut's shell to ensure its protection and that the city can control its own trade.  The port protects the city, and the city protects the port.  Imagine, a statement of Dairut's wealth and power visible from all corners of the city."  Maxwell shot a look towards Khafre, curious if the promise of a fortress in the sky would be enough to entice him, although the old blowhard would probably say something about defacing a natural wonder or something.

Maxwell then took the time to respond to Alzahra.  "there are many ways to stow away on a airship, they travel across the land at unparalleled speeds, and not many ports have several hundred meters of sheer cliff to discourage unintended means of entry."  Maxwell threw in a little wink *sparkle*

[Die Shize 4,269]

OOC Music [Recurring]

Spoiler

 

 

Eirene

 

 

As the model was displayed, all eyes were on it. Eirene’s tongue slithered between her lips as though to lick the design. The would-be architect had clearly gone to great lengths to produce the model, apparently to the very crevice in rock. It was, for all intents and purposes, a pretty thing. Platforms and elevators, ports and docks, buildings and towers, a fortress and the very airships themselves. She could easily admit that the miniature skyport before her was not quite what she was expecting. Pretty, indeed, to the eyes who find such things pretty, at least.

As Alzahra opened her mouth, Eirene listened closely. That woman was not one to waste words. She meant every one of them. There was no hyperbole on her part when she suggested riding an airship to go kill some poor soul, if only to test how quickly the vessel could take her from points A to B. If Maxwell’s response had pleased the assassin, there was no way to tell. Her face was as solid as the stone on Kayan’s body, as blank as Basinah's mask. In or out, she doesn’t know yet. Yet, she has all but already decided. Eirene let a moment pass in silence as she gave way to thought. The pause was in harmony with her six peers, save for the raven which cawed again. It was at the bird’s beak that she spread her lips.
 

“Trade and taxation. A skyport would, quite honestly, bring bounties to this city that we otherwise would not conjure. But Maxwell, my friend, what you propose is no skyport—but another city.” Her tail rose from the floor to cross her chest, wrapping from shoulder to hip like a sash while she stroked her scales. “A network of lifts and landing pads and little communities. I think I can even spot a house or two that look familiar. A fortress like a citadel. And all of it right next door. That’s what I see when I peer upon your ‘skyport’. I see no less than a town nestled outside our walls and, as impressive as it is to behold, it looks no less perilous.”

 

She spoke true, though her tone was not condescending. Eirene wanted to keep her personal conversation with this man as amicable as allowed, at least for her part, at the same time as expressing her truth.

 

“Even built up against the Wasi, there is no magical or figurative ‘shell’ I can speak of that would cover both Dairut and your port. It is a wall that wails ‘Here I am and my wife is just one wall away! Go rape her!’ “ She shrugged. “Granted, a skyport probably needs to be seen from high enough, and those cannons are of course a symbol of stabbing the eye that stares too lustfully, but those same cannons are only needed to defend against a threat that this skyport would have already created, simply by existing.”

 

She had spoken earlier about the risk in drawing attention to Dairut by the creation of a skyport, and the design before her did little and less to diminish her concern. Slaver’s Enclave was ever so in no small part due to placing a high value on its reputation for isolation. It was an idea that Eirene had long since held in her bosom. 
 

---

Asar

The dark ale was thick and bitter, with tastes of roasted nuts and burnt meat. It slid down his throat like molten metal into a stone cast as he guzzled back. The mug came down with a thud, a hand wiping froth from lips, and Asar let out a satisfied sigh. I can taste it already. The future. The Dairut of tomorrow. It will take more than slaves to take us there. By the sun and the stars, it will take more than airships. 

 

“I should remind everyone that the only reason this skyport would be created is due to what our friend has been proposing all along: trade and transportation, expanding our economy and modernizing it, allowing Dairut to explore other avenues for profit, and even explore other lands.” Asar swept his gaze around the room, feeling life in his eyes as his heart leapt like sparks from the furnace. “Alzahra, you yourself wish to feel the wind on your face before your dagger finds both the wind and a face. Airships will grant any one of us the ability to travel far and fast, without having to worry about being away from home for too long.”

 

He knocked his knuckles on the wood. “No, even more, without having to worry about crossing leagues and leagues of sand just to get there. Snow, Mr. Rubicante brought us.” He slid his hand across the tabletop and the watery powder upon it. “I’ve felt it between my fingers. It is colder than sand, more solid, but soon enough it melts into a puddle. Our sand serves us well, better than snow, yes, but when I hold this substance in my hand it is not snow I feel but supremacy!”

 

Asar pointed at the model of the skyport. Or, rather, the model of the future. “That right there, ladies and gentlemen, will take us around the world without ever having to take down our tents. It is an undertaking worth taking. For years upon years, Dairut has survived, never waning, but such a skyport will see our city thrive. Whatever eyes draw our way due to such developments, we need only the protection that the skyport itself will provide. New horizons that lead to new profit will in turn lead to new partnerships; alliances to ensure that Dairut will never be anything less. Aye, we will instead be much and more.”

---

Khafre
 

 

 

“Always the visionary, aren’t you?” Khafre didn’t look at the man. He couldn’t bear it. His eyes were on the model skyport. An amalgamation of commerce and military. The fool who had barged in here to even propose such an idea had spoken just so, and Khafre could see the evidence. Airships were in full view, as well as the holes that held them, alongside buildings and sections of buildings and cannons and a fortress that filled his mind. We’re being raided. The guns turn on our enemies. A storm in the sky. Lightning and thunder. A force lands on the Wasi. They assail the fortress. They cannot breach. Khafre cradled his face, squeezing his cheekbone as though it were another’s. The array of defenses, indeed the entire complex at the Wasi, were an imposing display. In real size, all the more so, to Dairutians and foreigners alike. It was a bastion of power. A pop in his jaw suddenly brought him out of a daze when he realized that the model skyport was as still as it had been.

---

Kayan

 

"Hmmmmm..." Kayan pondered on the thing of platforms and elevators and holes in the rock with things inside. He imagined what it would feel like if somebody drilled a hole in his present form and stuck metal inside it. Probably painless, at least physically. My dignity? Skinned. And I'm already skinless. Wasi, the Guardian, was much more than just a giant rock. In his observations, Kayan had discovered planets beyond the sky that were bigger than their neighbors. When great rocks flew by with another planet in their trajectory, the 'big brother' planet would instead pull those rocks toward it, gravity hurling them in, where the rocks burned up in the atmosphere. It was quite fascinating, further proving how science had a whole unique power in and of itself. To Kayan, however, it was more than science. It was purpose. It was design. It was a shining symbol of how another power was at play to present so beautiful a relationship between one object and the other.

Wasi was like one of those big brother planets to Dairut. It wasn't just there out of convenience or coincidence. It was there for a reason. The Wasi was an entity in its own right. Its rock was finer than marble. It had stood erect for time on end, ever the guardian of the city below. Thus, to see even a mere image of such ugly things slapped upon its face, sprawled about and tangled up and dangling, was quite a horrifying thing. It is a monstrosity.

"The idea of making Dairut richer to in turn become stronger is very sound, and I like it, but this I do not like at all." He waved a hand at the model skyport as if to wave it away. "Our traditions are more valuable than coin, and this 'thing' has defaced one of our most cherished traditions. Let the wind sweep away the deformities that your skyport has imposed upon our Wasi, or perhaps it is best to let the wind sweep away your entire proposal."

Edited December 11, 2019 by Die Shize

[squid peanut 379]

Maxwell was currently pleased on how the mock up was being received.  In truth, he had encouraged the designer to go a bit extra showy with how the structure looked, to sell the idea of the skyport just as much as the actual project itself.  Members of the council were still not sold on the project, but the nature of their concerns and criticisms were actually quite in Maxwell's favor.  All of current opposition and skepticism were based around viability and aesthetics, but not logistics.  The council had not yet accepted the plan of constructing a massive, technologically advanced skyport right next to the city, but they seemed to have already accepted the idea that such a thing was even possible or doable with Maxwell at the helm.  even Khafre, who had been the most adamant of opposition up until this point, had not said anything about the design being too big, or looking too expensive, or anything of the sort.  In fact, Khafre seemed to be quite charmed by it, although he tried to hide it.  Maxwell had gotten the council's attention for some time, and while he had yet to also get their unanimous favor, he definitely had their trust.  questions about logistics were sure to arise eventually, but a room can be read best through immediate reactions.

Maxwell stayed by the model as he responded to the newest batch of grievances.  While his heart ached with a desire to simply pontificate and make a grand spectacle by this point, he maintained decorum, so as to allow the council's trust in him to solidify.  That didn't prevent him from tossing in a couple hand gestures however.  "Lady Eirene, I fully understand your apprehension to this design, but there stands a notable amount of precedence to surmise that this structure would be just as obscured from unwanted eyes as Dairut itself.  While I cannot claim to fully understand the specific nature of the mystical power that covers this region of the Desert.  I can say with confidence that this power will be robust enough to affect a skyport as it has everything else.  This is not merely a gut feeling either.  Dairut's elusiveness is shared with many things, such as the city aqueduct, satellite communities that also exist within this region, and even the Wasi as it currently stands.  While there are proportionally very few that know of how to find Dairut, many more know of the city and its features.  airship expeditions, knowing what Dairut looks like and that it rests at the base of the Wasi, have tried and failed to locate Dairut by identifying more commonly known landmarks.  For even landmarks to be obscured so effectively, there is quite plentiful reason to believe that this planned skyport would change nothing of our natural protection.  Some concessions will also be made to prevent unneeded risks.  namely that no part of the skyport extends above the Wasi's peak, and that higher parts of the structure will be camouflaged and built to be harder to perceive from the sky and far distances, regardless if such measures are particularly necessary."

In regards to a robed golem, reading body language was just out of the picture, with tone also often lacking as well.  But luckily, the opinions of councilman Kayan had already done quite well of making themselves known.  Although Maxwell would have to guess about what this rock wizard would need to hear to not make anymore sad attempts at burns.  Regardless, this was a golden opportunity to begin talking more about the design itself.  "The traditions of Dairut are ones of conquest and power.  This is hardly something that the council has to be reminded of, but these traditions are at the core of what this skyport stands to represent, to the people and to the world.  The world is changing, to turn our backs on this change would be to embrace weakness and give up the traditions of the conqueror for those of the conquered, through stagnation alone.  This skyport does would not exist as a defacing of tradition, but a statement for tradition, a metaphor for Dairut's eternal strength preserved in a willingness to evolve.  Just as a nameless wanderer dons arms and armor to show that he shall fight, then dresses in gold and silk to show that he is now king;  The Wasi will come to wear testaments to Dairut's wealth and power.  To do so would not deface a monument of tradition, but to speak loudly that Dairut's tradition forever persists and flourishes, only standing to grow with the passage of time.  Know that the dressing of the Wasi will be preformed with the utmost respect for what it represents and is.  I wish for the council to understand, that this project was composed with significance of the Wasi known and treasured."

Before more questions would be asked, Maxwell also wanted to quickly cover what the plan for constructing the skyport was, since now was a good time.  "To ensure that the skyport sees can operate and begin doing its job as soon as possible, construction will be modular and stage based.  What this means is that even though the completed complex would be large and require quite a lot of work to finish, smaller portions of the three main segments will be completed and then added on to.  So, like the canal system, operation can begin without the need for the entire structure to be built.  This will allow us to better train workers, to preform test and limit the impact of unforeseen complications, and to have the skyport able to begin paying itself off at an earlier date."  Maxwell was feeling confident in how solid his pitch was going.