>>5640959His reception is, sadly, about what you expected.
“What is this?”
“A cup,” you answer.
The two of you are meeting, as you must, in the basement laboratories of the Mages’ Tower, where the Archmage has hidden away your fellow Reptilians whose identities are not yet established or (like Roth’s) potentially compromised. The room is more spartan than Roth’s own home here in Hawksong, but not by much. The mug is, you thus decide, more needed than ever.
“…Why do you mock me with these ape-scribbles?” he demands.
“I do not,” you explain. “I grant you recognition for services rendered to the Master Race and to the Dark Gods Below and Beyond.”
“For being raped by your muddy-blooded half-breed whore of a mother?”
Your take a deep, meditative breath.
“Yes,” you say, calmly. “The herbs are said to bring peace of mind, relaxation, calm, and various other health benefits.”
“Mammalian hogwash. A scam. You are a fool to buy such filth.”
“You will accept it, because I command it,” you say.
“…Hmph.”
“I have made major progress here,” you segue. “The Grand Design nears completion. The New Age of Darkness—”
“Age of Scales,” Roth interrupts.
“—is nearly at hand! The royal family is subverted, and shall soon be in our grasp.”
“Another Degenerate, barely Reptilian at all,” Roth sneers. “Wonderful.”
“A demigod, spawn of the Great Mother,” you remind him. “A Godking, like the Dragon Kings of old.”
“And he will annihilate the unbelievers, the mammalian vermin who infest our ancient homeland?” he asks, sounding a bit hopeful at last. “Rip the half-formed spawn from the guts of their mothers and cast them upon the scalding rocks of a dragonfire pit? Make great feasts of the still-screaming males?”
“No,” you say. “But he will rule it, and our people shall have a place of glory under the sun and moon, in a world ruled according to the will of the gods and the ancestors. The unbelievers will be made to believe, and to serve.”
“They will be slaves? Bred like cattle, made to work themselves to death, naked and afraid, humbled, cast into the dust and dirt they deserve?”
You shrug. it's close enough, and you don't want to break the old male's heart.
Roth glares down at his mug and the herbs bundled with a ribbon therein, and his shoulders slump.
“I do not understand this New Age,” he mutters. “This is not what I desired, what I strove for.”
You regard him silently, and then sigh.
“Enjoy your tea and your mug, Progenitor,” you address him. “That is an order.”
“…Yes, Superior One."
