“We do not attack for sport.”
“You attack for supply.”
“Yes.”
“That’s still raiding.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flash. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I do.”
“And you’re fine with it?”
“No.”
That answer surprises her.
She studies me more carefully now.
“I have been reducing raid frequency for two cycles,” I continue. “Negotiating trade agreements with fringe systems willing to engage.”
“You think anyone trusts you?”
“Some do.”
“Why?”
“Because I honor terms.”
She lets out a soft, incredulous breath. “That’s a low bar.”
“It is a rare one.”
Silence settles between us as the star map rotates slowly in holographic space.
“Rival clans?” she asks.
“Unimpressed,” I reply.
Varek snorts faintly. “That is one word for it.”
Elara glances toward him. “Define unimpressed.”
“They see reform as weakness,” Varek says evenly. “Reduced raids mean reduced tribute.”
“And reduced tribute means?”
“Reduced power.”
Elara’s gaze shifts back to me. “So you’re destabilizing your own people.”
“I am attempting to prevent extinction,” I correct.
She shakes her head slowly. “By… what? Becoming respectable?”
“By becoming sustainable.”
