[Alright, bro, my Paragon accepts your claim. He will yield the city to you, but he has a single request in return.]
I read the words with a grim, wry smile. Wryly had sent this barely minutes after I had issued my final consolidation orders.
My team was already in motion, rearranging the front lines, claiming mountains of loot, and preparing the logistical nightmare of a departure.
The battlefield below was a chaotic sea of movement; my warriors were swarming like ants over the fallen, specifically tasked with identifying the dragon elites and high-ranking commanders. I wanted their corpses delivered directly to my feet.
[What request?] I sent back, bypassing the flowery attitude and the thinly veiled pride his Paragon was using to mask the sting of defeat.
