Lawrence sniffed and called the meeting to order. It was important to make sure the worker ants felt like they had some say in their direction. Kept them from bothering him later.

"You need to keep the emperor in line, he's forcing all the cultivators into that ridiculous police force," Marcia snapped. That one was getting eyes above her station.

"Let me worry about him." Lawrence said. "The magehunters are hardly a concern for now."

"They'll be a concern when we have thousands of poorly trained fighters and no one to equip them. Or teach." Dariella sauntered over from her perch by the window. It was a fairly mundane view. Despite all his proddings, the emperor hadn't felt the need to update Laskar City's infrastructure to take advantage of the changing mana flows. Lawrence didn't miss the flinch when their resident ingenue took the last open chair at the table.

"This is not a war that will be won with fodder troops. The emperor wants to feel in control of something. So we let him play with his cultivators like little toys, and get on to the real work."

"Keeping him out of our affairs is your job," Faye began.

Lawrence cut her off. "My job is going fine." He stared down the scriptor until she looked away. The specialized enchanting discipline excelled in seals and wards. Faye was one of the best in the world, both Before and now. Yet still half of their prisons had failed in one way or another. He would not stop regretting the loss of Marcia.

Sensing weakness he swung around to face Dariella. "After all, you two are responsible for allowing our greatest opposition to exist."

"Hardly," Dariella said. She flicked her long braid off her shoulder and gestured to the map laid out in front of them. "If I had known who would be showing up, I would have been more prepared. That was a failure of intelligence."

"The Legacy Stone of the Thousand Hands Sect would have been helpful, but it's hardly key to our plans. Or are you lacking confidence in your own skills?"

Lawrence smiled at the woman. It wasn't kind. Before he could speak, Vulurus broke his silence.

"Enough. This petty feuding is a waste of my time. Tell us of the progress we have made."

"Right." Lawrence straightened an already perfectly pristine robe and continued. "We have stabilized well as a City. The Grottos for our mana aspects are either constructed or in the process of doing so. We'll move on to Barracks and Training Facilities after that. Otherwise I have begun pushing towards your own City." He nodded at Vulurus. "The Core is resisting the movement. Not in the least due to the lead these people insist on putting in everything. But progress is being made regardless.

"That's good," Faye had regrown her spine, it seemed. "The Meristans are the only ones that are anywhere close. And there's only the two of them, well three if Devon is sticking around, that have any ability."

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"It should have been zero," Lawrence said.

"That any of us lived to have this meeting is due to my own skill!" She shrieked back. "You should be thanking me on your knees every morning. None of our plans would be possible otherwise. That a few of the less important chambers failed, or opened early, is beside the point."

"The Archive doesn't matter." Dariella said. Of course, getting shown up by a member of said sect and having to waste an irreplaceable defensive treasure in the process would never color the woman's opinion. "Maybe if you had saved their spatial masters, we would need to worry. But those two were fighters. Their elders pointed them at a target and let them loose. Let them splash around in their little pond. If it becomes necessary, I'll pay them a return visit and make our position clear."

"You couldn't beat Martin alone," Lawrence said.

Vulurus sighed and leaned back, opting out of the argument entirely. It must be nice, caring about so little. But he hadn't chosen his compatriots for their personalities.

"The enchanter was more help than you would think," Dariella defended.

"It doesn't matter, you wouldn't beat both two on one."

"Then I'll make sure they aren't together! They are playing at being sect leaders. Threaten one of their little brats and they'll come running."

"It doesn't matter. We need you to manage Fairtown. They're due for a wave soon and you'll need to coordinate the defenses."

"What about Saxon? Isn't that his area? Fairtown isn't that large; it should be manageable. Even for him."

"The idiot never came back from Naxos. Apparently basic competency is too much to ask."

She sneered but refrained from continuing the argument. Round and round they went. Lawrence humored the others and their requests, as long as they held up their part of the responsibilities. When they had exhausted all the important topics, he shooed the others out of his apartments and set off to the anchor room for the City Core.

Practicality had won out over aesthetic concerns; the room was deep below the emperor's castle. Nestled beneath the storerooms and prisoner's cells, no natural breeze or sunlight chased away the inherent damp.

That was not to say that no concessions had been made to comfort. He was the head of the Order of Decorra, Master Cultivator and steward of the Laskar City Core. A little comfort was well within his rights. Glow stones blazed when he entered the room, the different hues combining to something downright cheerful. The lack of windows was hardly a concern, the walls lined with thin sheets of mana crystal, carrying information of his various projects. One full wall was covered with a map of the world. His allied cultivators, their City Cores, and other assets were illuminated in strands of silver. Neutral parties, though few and far between, were picked out in green, while his enemies were in black. The worst offender was a knot of black lines in northern Merista where the masters of the Eternal Archive were, as Darielle said, playing at being sect leaders.

All within acceptable limits for now.

He poured himself a glass of wine from the sideboard, setting it on a low side table to have as a reward when he was done. Lawrence sank into the plush settee, the cushions welcoming him with open arms.

With no reason to delay, he sank into the mana currents. Calm as a long-finished battlefield, he sent his mind to the edge of the Core's domain. No longer a perfect sphere, spokes of controlled mana poked out towards the nearest cities. His constant cultivation pushed Laskar City ever closer to a true Capital. Though each day when he was forced into other responsibilities, or simply needed a break, the wild mana pushed his progress back.

He pushed down one of the spokes, to the very edge of where he could reach. Impressions of the world around him filtered into the half-trance state. Rolling hills covered with wild grass, a town, not yet a Town, a few kilometers to the side. The weak or the unambitious would follow the roads, using the ingrained paths as a way to anchor progress. But roads had to pay attention to things like rivers or cliffs. He was above such considerations. And the Order needed the power as soon as possible. The earlier they could secure a World Capital, the less anyone would be able to challenge them. Then they could get around to… correcting the behavior of those who thought they were too good for the Order. Lawrence had spent centuries with such people, biding his time. He could wait a bit longer.

Like a miner, he forged his will into a pick and clawed his way forward, past his previous progress. Once they anchored to the next large settlement, the others would come faster. With enough of a network, they would be unstoppable. This was a race, and no one else had found out they were running until he was too far in the lead to catch.

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