Quarterly High Command Meeting

Darius was among the first to arrive, he was early and sat patiently and silently as he waited for the Grand General’s arrival. He cared little if the others were here or not, so long as there was sufficient attendance to call for a meeting it mattered little. He would at least get the information he needed on current matters and plans.

The door opened and his attention sprung towards the Grand General whom limped towards the head of the table with escort. His health seemed to be declining on a daily basis but he managed to function and managed to keep face, impressively. He silently greeted his first with a nod. His eyes remained fixed upon him expectantly for a moment before drifting to the rest of the table.

Jay walked into the room, managing to not trip on himself...for once. He wasn't going to be participating in the discussion, unless Ma'am Maria or General Swain commanded him to, but there was always a need for a scribe! He stood off to the side, taking out his clipboard and fumbling around his basic robes for a pen of some sort, finding one eventually in an inside pocket.

Andre was not far behind, his black cloak trailing behind him. There were some mystery regarding the recent disappearance of Hugh Gaynesford. Rumors of Rengar and Warwick and some discussion of outside involvement and inside involvement. Andre had only a idea of what happened. He had thought Hugh had betrayed details of his position to the enemy at Kalamanda and thought the man was dosing his troops with drugs against orders and to unwilling subjects. He had sent a report to Swain and was awaiting orders when word reached him that Hugh was missing, but there was a lot of blood and three dead. Andre had his suspicions, but also had to find a replacement who could handle the altered soldiers and he felt nothing for Hugh, so he didn't care. One less insubordinate officer to deal with.

Then, there were the reports coming in about the Wall. Progress was good, and Andre felt his men were doing adequate work. His engineers went with his commanders to aid in the building, so he knew that they would meet the deadline. They had not failed him yet, but he wanted to keep close tabs on the project.

Hence the slight delay, as he would have tried to be there before the maids tidied up the room for the meeting ((slight exaggeration, but you get me)).

Andre entered the room and gave a curt salute and went to his seat nearby Zorn. Unlike the mage, His only metal on his person was black chain. He was not a braggart, and actually valued not wearing his medals. Less weight. He didn't earn them so much as his soldiers.

He paid no mind to Swain's health. Swain fought for his office. This could easily be stress. Give him a few years and he will look like a corpse, but his willpower was renown. Reports of a young Swain having his leg operated on without fainting to shame or pain was enough proof for Andre that the Grand General would not be slain so easily.

He gave Zorn a glance as he seated himself. "Zorn." he said curtly.

"Good morning, High Command," Swain issued his formal greeting, luminous eyes flickering over each present member in turn, over the scribe situating himself in the corner, over the hulking form of Renekton, whose attendance he had cleared. A Raedsel guard strode forth and placed a folder full of documents, a pen and inkwell before the Grand General.

Swain uncapped his pen, flipped open his folder and remarked, "Let us begin with a brief overview of the past quarter from each of your sectors and on all major projects. I should like details on the wall--and what overflow, if any, may be set aside for the railway endeavors. Any necessary budget cuts or adjustments." His blazing gaze lingered on Bleakwood purposefully as he spoke. He paused to clear his throat with a hacking cough, then turned to Blackwind. "Let us also cover the state of Ionian public relations and what measures may be taken to improve them.

"And," Swain looked purposefully to Laurentine, "I expect a full progress report on the militarization efforts in Zaun. Our entourage will depart tomorrow dawn for an investors' meeting and an official inspection of the recruitment endeavors." Gnarled fingers tapped his pen upon the table. "I believe that is... everything of major note."

The Grand General's train of thought was interrupted by the creaking of the meeting hall's door as it swung open. A Raedsel guard, towering, pristinely clad, crossed the room in a few swift strides and, following a salute, bent to mutter something near the Master Tactician's ear. Swain's brows lifted as he listened. "Very good. Send him in." The Raedsel nodded and hurried from the room, returning shortly after to escort his fearsome charge over the threshold.

A gnarled hand extended as the clang of metal on stone rang out through the hall. "High Command, I am proud to present to you our most recently recruited partisan. Behold, Brand, the Burning Vengeance." The Grand General clasped his hands together again on the table, his calculating gaze sweeping the table as Brand's hulking metallic form came into view behind him. This fiery acquisition had not yet been officially presented before High Command or to the public at large. Given the circumstances surrounding Brand's capture and imprisonment, The Master Tactician knew there would be skepticism, but the meeting in itself was a chance to demonstrate Brand's civility, his dedication to the Noxian cause.

Jay swallowed hard. Quite a few...personalities, to put it lightly, were in this meeting. And they were dangerously close. And by dangerously close, he meant that some of the heat from Brand may have singed his eyebrows slightly.

He began taking note of what Swain was saying, dividing pieces of paper on his board into fair segments for each of the topics. He stood at the ready, just as much so to run for his life as to take note.

Swain kept his hands folded before him on the table, their tremor less evident against the polished mahogany than suspended in mid-air. His crimson eyes bored into General Bleakwood as the report resounded over Brand's metallic whir, over Renekton's heavy breathing, over the quiet clinking of honor medals as Zorn Agammond shifted in his seat. The Grand General's gaze flickered briefly, imperceptibly, over Agammond's decorated form, then back to Bleakwood as he concluded his speech.

"Fortunately," rasped Swain, lifting his chin, "I am not paying your men to orchestrate the railway. I am paying them to build. Engineers are in talks with our Zaunite collaborators. Expect a concrete design and plan of action delivered by Monday next." He tapped his pen against the table as he perused the page before him.

"Focus on Western and Eastern borders is certainly preferable," he offered: perhaps the nearest semblance of a compliment that ever passed his lips. "How many miles have we completed thus far. Where are we on budget, materials, food for your troops. Over? Under?" The Grand General's voice, though hoarse, rang out with the same unshakable precision for which he was known, a fervent focus upon the task at hand regardless of the state of his health. "Give me a projection of costs and an estimated date of completion that we might reallocate as necessary."