Tuann weren't meant to sit idle for too long. War and fighting were bred into their bones. Inactivity only fostered aggression and trouble. All the discipline in the world would only delay the inevitable.
"Look who deigns to join us," Caius said from where he lounged with an insolent slouch.
Like the rest of those present, Caius was a senior member of Harlow's council. A warrior and commander of Harlow's forces in the sixth quadrant of Roake's territory.
He looked like a playboy with his hair roguishly styled, sharp cheekbones, and a cockiness that seemed to appeal to many women. The only mark that marred his perfect features was the faintest nick in his eyebrow.
Graydon throttled his desire to plant his fist in Caius's face. For one thing, it would be pointless. Caius wasn't physically there, despite appearances.
He looked as tangible and real as Graydon, but if you were to touch him, your hand would fall right through his body.
"Caius, still alive? I thought thefendrikwould have killed you by now and split your body into pieces to decorate their homes with." Graydon's tone might have been mild, but his expression was not.
Caius threw his head back with a roar of amusement. "Little Storm, your mask is slipping." He shook his finger at Graydon in mock rebuke. "Someone needs to spend more time on the front lines. You're getting a tad cranky."
Graydon grunted.
He wasn't the only one. All of his oshota were showing the strains of forced inactivity.
Their presence in Roake might have been necessary, but it hadn't made the intervening weeks any easier. For warriors used to being in the thick of things, it was a difficult adjustment—especially since they had to be on their best behavior while in another House.
Roake might have once been Graydon's home, but it wasn't anymore. A certain decorum was expected.
Wren didn't have to move to draw the attention of everyone present, making it clear without words it was time to get to the reason why they'd been summoned.
Graydon quelled his impatience and moved into the room.
Silas, Makon, Maida, and Quillon all nodded respectful greetings as Graydon took a position among those of Harlow's House that the Overlord trusted most.
Although two were missing, no doubt attending to pressing matters that couldn’t be put aside, these were the men and women tasked with decisions that played a pivotal role in the House's future. All of them commanded their own people, each focused on helping Harlow oversee a House of this size.
"How are the little birds doing?" Caius asked, directing his gaze toward Maida and Wren.
Maida propped her chin on her hand. "There are several who show great potential. Others who will be lucky to be accepted into a House's lowest tier of soldiers."
Wren inclined his head in agreement.
Caius arched an eyebrow, his gaze meeting Harlow's. The Overlord showed no reaction, his expression remote.
"And what is your assessment of the person we're all likely thinking of?" Caius asked.
Wren touched a spot on the wrist of his synth armor. Numbers scrolled into sight above the Overlord's desk.
"Oof, those numbers are terrible," Caius muttered.
Indeed. They were. Astonishingly so.
"Wait. There's a pattern in the numbers," Maida said, leaning forward.
Of those present, Graydon wasn't surprised Maida spotted it first. Her affinity made her a difficult opponent to defeat, but her ability to recognize battle tactics and ferret out patterns in an enemy’s strategy were the real threats.
Maida focused on Wren. "Is it a code?"
Wren was a man given to stillness. He didn't fidget. He never lost his poise. As a result, he was one of the most difficult men to read Graydon had ever met.
He was also a contemporary of Harlow's. The two men had served in the same pod. Similar to the squads the human military sorted themselves into, a pod was a unit. The size could vary, but it was always made up of an uneven number of those with complementary talents. The bonds between a pod were considered nearly unbreakable.
Graydon's own oshota consisted of two pods of which he was the commander. It meant when they fell into a situation suited for battle, they would act as a single unit, their cohesion guaranteed.
