Ixion smiled at Marlowe and the rest.
'What articulate bastards!'
But since when has logic and reason stopped insanity?
'Never!'
Ixion found that his amusement in trying to break their facades of reverence using this topic was starting to wane. So, unless he wanted to be stuck there all day in perpetual argument…
"Ah, whatever. It's truly of no consequence to send some rabble. Take any platoon of your choosing, but only one. Is that clear?"
Abd al-Rahman bowed his head slightly.
"Yes, Your Grace. Thank you."
Ixion clapped.
"Now, now. With that useless farce settled, how about we discuss my greatness!"
Marlowe coughed, then said:
"Uh, before we broach that 'topic'. I think it best that we address the harrowing truth. Based on what the Chrys emissaries had to say, their collective line doesn't seem to be doing so well. All it will take is one crack for it all to crumble. I plead with you, King Ixion, stop this idle approach. We must send aid."
