There are stranger things here than Thebans know about.

Gods have bloody hands.

Nothing he knew of, enunciated life like death.

Order is its own reward.

"Mercy is not in favor in my heavens today," says Vashanka, unforgiving and combative, folding vast arms and spearing Harmony with lightning that crackles from his gaze.

Loyalty must be forged - to him, to his: stronger than iron, from experience, from risk - it can't be bought, or taught, or promised before the fact. Allegiance must be earned so it will hold, win or lose.

I must decide if you deserve to die.