[ Heard loud and clear. Coincidentally, disdain for dead cavaliers is not a good way to become God's friendly neighborhood research buddy. He and Palamedes will have a conversation, after this.

And, look at that: another opening to talk about the war and who, exactly, they're fighting. Why conquest has always come second to survival and third to comeuppance. Better he let it hang unanswered. It will be there for them later, if they want to risk his temper when Viktor's tone keeps up. ]

You're right: let's keep this brief.

[ Speaking of his temper, here's the dangerous bit. Nobody's dared disrespect her to his face in, you know, virtually ever. There are so few people left alive who remember her. There is no one left who loves her but him.

For what ought to be the last time, he steps forward. He does not take a seat. God regards Viktor over the untouched tea and the dish of raspberries. His expression is weary; his eyes are distant and inhuman and cold. ]

I know what story I'm here to tell. It's an old one... a lost one... and, meaning this as kindly as I can, not at all yours to hear.