The emerald projection of the archipelago flickered and faded as Mina lifted her hand from the brass plate.
Elder Sterling stepped forward, his heavy iron boots clattering against the stone floor of the pavilion.
“If we are going to challenge the Sanctuary’s central blockade,” Sterling said, his deep voice tight with urgency, “we must begin martial drills immediately.”
Kaelen leaned his back against the pavilion pillar and let out a long, weary groan.
“Elder,” Kaelen muttered, rubbing his knees through his bathrobe. “We just walked all the way across the plaza. My calves are burning.”
“You broke through to Saint Vessel in five minutes, Lord Vance!” Sterling insisted, throwing his arms wide. “You fused your mortal flesh, your Nascent Soul, and your law domain! You possess a physical body that can shrug off Tier Six execution arrays!”
“All the more reason to sit down,” Kaelen said smoothly. “A body like that is heavy. Carrying it around is exhausting.”
“You need to test your strike output!” Sterling argued, stepping closer. “You need to calibrate your domain pressure and drill evasive footwork! When Warden Moros discovers Zoran is dead, he won’t send third-rate alchemists. He will send war fleets!”
