"The ships?" Lord Atherton replied coldly. "I'm merely entertaining your boisterous claim about helping us. Do you have any intentions toward our fleet stationed here?"

"Stationed or imprisoned?" Oscar retorted sharply. For a while, his irritation and anger had been building from most of these people stopping him from returning home. All the suspicion and disbelief were normal toward him, but it didn't lessen the frustration of being treated like this after a long twenty years. "If they are stationed here, why haven't they set out to break through the enemy forces and converge with our Exalts on the other side?"

Oscar continued without waiting for Lord Atherton's response. "What is it you are waiting for? The Exalts here have no life, no drive, only bitterness of living day by day. Why are you holed up here?"

Lord Atherton simply stared at him. Under the gaze of those yellow eyes, Oscar felt his chest grow heavier and the beads of sweat running down his face. He refused to retreat and stared back unblinkingly while Susan remained bowed in her deep, subservient pose. After another few minutes of this stand-off, Lord Atherton relaxed his gaze and withdrew his pressure, baring a slightly warm smile. He sat back in his seat and rested his arms on the table in an elegant demeanor, back straight and exuding grace. He flicked his fingers, and a large map of the Farsky Continent appeared over his head.

"This should be basic knowledge for you if you are a spy from somewhere else. The war has been going on for ten years now. The enemies outnumber us three-to-one." From Lord Atherton's words, the Ein spilled on the map and glowed in four colors, red, black, green, and blue. These colors spread and mimicked the movements of each empire, showing the waning borders of the Brilliant Drake Empire. "We cut off our outer regions to have tighter and shorter borders to protect with our outnumbered forces. Thanks to the Divine Essence, we've grown abundant resources to fund our battles and supply the Exalts, but the more powerful materials still need time to come into being."

"So we're all at a loss everywhere, simply holding on until we have more resources. That can't be the only reason we're holing up." Oscar doubted.

"We've only had Divine Essence for twenty years, the first few years needing to cultivate its growth. If we drag out this war long enough, we'll eventually win against the enemy. After all, in a few more years later, the latest generation of our Exalts will be fully prepared to fight."

"The ones born after the Divine Essence was planted….They're not ready?" Oscar said. The Divine Essence's primary function and why many coveted it was the blessing it provided to the people under its influence, a true holy land for Exalts. It increased the chances of a child being born with an Exolsia Core, meaning the Pavilion would soon enjoy a larger generation of Exalts over the other empires.

"Five more years, give or take. Then another fresh wave of Exalts will come the year after that, and so on. The Empire enacted a new policy to give stipends to every family with a new child in the first five years, limited to five children each. The plan, for now, is to defend and hole up in our bases, protecting the borders until we slowly outnumber them year by year." Lord Atherton snapped his fingers. The blue light representing his home on the map spread and overwhelmed the other colors on the continent.

The plan was sound. Focusing entirely on defense to wear the enemy out until the benefits of the Divine Essence swelled to their fullest extent in a steady and larger population of Exalts and richer and higher-grade resources. Oscar doubted the enemy would allow that to happen and could envision a horrifying offense in the next few years.

"You haven't answered my question. Why are you holed up here rather than rushing to join the fray? Even with the fresh wave of Exalts in five years, the enemy still vastly outnumbers us in the present. I don't believe you can hold on for five years, and even so, it might not be enough to liberate Drakken Port." Oscar realized his question hadn't been answered yet and asked again.

Lord Atherton sighed, his warm and handsome countenance fading from the stress he clearly felt. "It'll take time to fly the entire fleet over in a good formation, and we'll be out of the protection of the barrier. The airships have their own shields, yes, but they're not as powerful as a city's. The enemy will strike and disrupt our efforts with their larger fleet stationed between us and the rest of the Empire. How can we guarantee the safety of the citizens? Not to mention, we're extremely shorthanded now and running our resources thin. Your rallying of our men helped tremendously. But it was a temporary respite."

The map changed and showed the blue glow gathered on Drakken Port and the rest of the Empire. A mix of black and red divided Drakken Port from the others, a vast stretch of land separating them. The outlook of Drakken Port was truly poor. The only time they set out was to scout like Susan earlier, but even they nearly died if not for his fortunate timing. Oscar cursed his rotten luck at arriving in a place isolated and besieged by the enemy.

"So tell me. How do you intend to help us?" Lord Atherton flicked the map away and rested his chin on his hands like waiting for a play to start.

"First. Can I have my space pocket back? My clothes and hammer are in there, along with some elixirs, which I'm sure were taken away. Though my wife made those for me, you can use them. My identity token should also be there. Judge that as you wish." Oscar made his light requests first and took a moment to calm himself. Resolutely, he walked up to Lord Atherton and said, "Second, I wish to meet with all three Marshal Exalts."

"Your appetite is too large. How can I be sure there's nothing at play here?" The Marshal Exalt clenched his hands.

"Strip me naked if you have to and put me in chains. My idea will require everything from Drakken Port." Oscar raised his arms out, ready to be restrained.

Lord Atherton sent an order out to retrieve Oscar's possessions from the prison below. A few minutes later, he had the space pocket in his palm, glanced at the nearly broken identity token in his other hand, and listened to the message from his subordinate. The Marshal Exalt turned to Oscar, as his shock was laden across his face, and waved his men away.

"I thought you somehow undid your restraints, but you broke them apart?" Lord Atherton dug his fingers around the space pocket and spilled all the contents on the floor, neatly folded clothes wrinkled and crumbled into a mess, a hammer plopped to the floor, and his shield rattled around for a second. Oscar tried his best to restrain his anger, fuming at the improper handling of his belongings.

Lord Atherton nodded and absorbed everything back into the space pocket. "Nothing's out of the ordinary." He held up the identity token, looking disturbed. "This is an authentic token….According to the records and eyewitness reports, Oscar Terr never made it out of the central palace, struck by the monster within."

"As I said, I survived and lived there for fifteen years. Luckily, I had a good Chronem by my side. Can I have a meeting with all three of you now? If we can reach the Pavilion, I can prove my identity. But for that, I need everyone's cooperation." Tired, Oscar sat on the floor, waiting for Lord Atherton's decision. He felt the need to say something. "Will you hole up here until you're all gone, or will you take this chance with me?"

The white-haired Marshal Exalt leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes with knitted brows, clearly in deep thought. The hands of the clock moved slowly as the ticking of the seconds became more pronounced in the deep silence. Oscar also closed his eyes to meditate even while under scrutiny, and then, Lord Atherton rose from his seat.

He said, "Follow me."

Oscar looked gratefully at Susan, who seemed relieved and waved goodbye to him. Thanks to her, he could make it this far; now, the rest was on them. Following Lord Atherton, he stepped deeper into the iron halls, the walls full of marks and scratches that told a history of what had occurred here long ago. From what he had read, this place underwent a fierce struggle far before his time. The two forces fought in these very halls, spreading blood and violence to every corner. When the victors arose, they left the scars of the battle on the walls and floors to serve as a memory and reminder of what they endured to live freely. That was the start of the reputation of the steel-clad Drakken Port.

In a large throne room, Lord Atherton sat on the left throne and told him to kneel before the three thrones. Oscar did as he was told and felt two other strong presences arriving.

"Elias, why did you call for us to meet here?" A harsh feminine voice chastised Lord Atherton. "I have to organize our remaining forces."

"Relax, Reni. Elias never does things without reason. He got us through this bout this time with his healing. I'm sure this is important." An elderly man spoke in a wheezy voice. "Who is this?"

"He is the one who led our forces to victory against the enemy today. Even during our battle, I saw glimpses of him fighting." Reni sounded delighted. "Lift your head and tell us your name."

Oscar lifted his eyes to see them, the three Marshal Exalts of Drakken Port. Reni Hessen sat on the center throne, clad in blue armor, and watched him through her red eyes. Her black hair wildly flowed down her shoulders and back. She appeared like a wayward ghost, bearing two large scars on her cheeks and having pale skin.

The other Marshal Exalt, according to Susan, was Hugh Freud, the oldest of them all, wearing simple brown robes. Wrinkles ran wildly over his face, the skin drooping down to cover his eyes under the large eyebrows. His large beard and mustache reached down to his legs and covered most of his face.

Lord Atherton explained everything to Reni and Hugh. Their attention darted from him to Oscar, their thoughts hidden behind their indescribable expressions. He wondered why there weren't any higher-ups he knew of in Drakken Port, tired of having to go through the same process of enduring everyone's disbelief and questioning gazes.

"Setting aside the matter of your identity, you have made a bold claim about helping us." Reni leaned her face on her armored fist.

Oscar reached into his chest, pulled out another space pocket, and poured its contents onto the empty floor, a mound of ores, plants, herbs, and more. He didn't let up and poured out another space pocket's contents, this pile teeming with a great Ein. Smiling, he picked up the Wildersap vial and tossed it to Lord Atherton. "This should be enough to show my sincerity. I have a lot of resources to provide."

"This sap…how did you come by this?" Hugh Freud opened his eyes through his wrinkles, glowing a deep blue color. "These resources as well. How much have you accumulated?"

The Marshal Exalts' reactions struck a funny chord with Oscar. He had spent far more than this wealth to pay for his way home out of Shattirma. All of this was simply the excess he had left to take home.

"Do I have your attention now?"