"An ordinary member of the Saint Gran Council, or a Deputy Commander of the Champions Alliance—which post would you call the weightier?" Edward turned his head, threw Morando a look that said make of it what you will, then put his attention back on the war-citadel.
The moment it touched down, the citadel roared to life. Lights blazed through it, and from a sprawl of tents laid out like scattered stars, rank upon rank of war-riders burst forth, their faces beyond making out. They massed together into a flood of moving light and charged the far dark, fearless.
