Dropping anchor.
Well that had the marvelous effect of making him feel like he'd conned the ship into a group of shoals while on wyrmquest, without him being all the worse for wear, having lived to tell the tale.
Sure, he'd had some experience with magic, as of late having been initiated into the secrets of the same when he was a student at the Reg, long ago and far away, and for the life of him, while he did have familiarity about how a Sphere of Light was conjured, he hadn't had much practice as of late.
Imperial Admiral, indeed. For the meantime, he looked like the Imperial Admiral's aide, dressed as he was in his uniform still displaying the collar insignia of a mere Trieririrus, with the aiguillete by his shoulder that displayed his status as an assistant to the Imperial Marshal. Not caring a whit about what others thought, however, once he'd gained his bearings, he'd been ushered into the conference room, taking his seat at the proferred location, and arranging his varied papers as need be, while the mage went off to summon someone, leaving him, alone.
No doubt the Big Fellow wanted to find out how things were, and while the picture was a bit fuzzy, he'd be well and willing to give them the truth on how the Navy was.
Sitting quietly, he continued to scribble, study, summarize, and sigh.
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Imperial Minister for War War is the horror that occurs when rational minds fail at the negotiating table of diplomacy. ~Queen Katishandra of Daittern, Aelyrian Warfare through the Ages.
**1/6: Work (and not mutinous legionaries!) have placed Alexis' puppeteer under extreme duress. Back at Jan the 16th, Markalin willing. I will hold true to Macarthur's words, and yes, indeed, I shall return!**
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