The Sunken City

[rassafraggin]

Perhaps there was a diplomatic objection to the use of the Solar Flare, or perhaps the Queen's sense of decorum wouldn't allow the conveyance of a great brass and steel goose-monster to flummer Her Majesty to the edge of the Sunken City, home of the mighty Triton Nation. This would be, after all, the first regal visit to the great elder race's very doorstep since the reign of Manawydan, and *She* had brought her army with her, that time - if only to watch in grim anxiety while she challenged the Triton Ruler Elowyde to single combat. A bold, war-ending visit that had been.

And so it is from the Rebma City gates that the delegation sets out on two great skiffs of gleaming shell, glass, and opalwood, suspended from tethers on all sides. The royal stables, two lines of sailfish to the fore of each fabulous barge, beastly ancient turtles on the sides for stability and globulous jellies trailing behind as... what, dragnets? A vanguard of Dolphins sets off ahead and a complement of Tritons flanks the caravan to watch for threats in the three dimensions.

Queen Moire is settled in comfort and style upon a grand port-a-throne within the lead skiff, surrounded by comfy sponge seats for her entourage of family and friendlies. All of them are spared the force of the rushing water generated by the rate of travel, by the curved 'shield' of glass at the front of the vessel. She has personally pressed upon her companions the assurance of the Sea's protection, in a different fashion that one would have received from Merrisol; with a simple but still intimate laying of the hand over the base of the subject's throat.

Ailith is along for the ride! Possibly a surprising move, all things considered. Dressed practically, but not poorly, she carries no weapon but is listening with interested attention to everything said. It is so important, after all, that everything go well.

Miriam still needs that protection, when past the safety of Rebma's magic waters. Something to work towards in the future, as she continues to bring herself closer to Rebma. She's taken a seat near the Queen on one of those sponges, and watches with interest as they make their way to the Sunken City. As this is a diplomatic matter she's not wearing a sword, but there is one tucked away in a corner for her. Just in case. Instead, she's wearing something suitable to being part of the Queen's entourage. It's shiny, pearly, and not desced yet.

Ruby is rather awestruck by the mode of transportation. Both how it's moved along, and its particular style. The procession is pretty amazing to watch, and it's kept her mouth mostly closed. She's dressed in something more suitable for an excursion with the Irregulars, but lacking in weapons. It's a swimsuit that lacks ornamentation in favour of function. Webbing for equipment, but in keeping with a minimalist focus. She has avoided a sponge, unless there is a strong suggestion to sink into one, and holds on near the periphery of the seating.

Following in Miriam's footsteps, Maggie is dressed as befits a member of the Queen's entourage. For her, there are pearls and pale sea-green filligree above and below with not much else. She has apparently taken the Rebman style of dress to heart at long last. She, also, needs the Sea's Blessing and accepted it in the altered fashion with grace and a smile that warmed her gaze with mirth and a warmth that settled deep in her look, in her smile.

Now, she sits on one of the puffy cushions near Moire and Miriam though not at the same level as either. She keeps her hands folded in her lap, her eyes mostly ahead. Every so often, she glances back to seek out Ruby. There is an intent in the look, a subliminal need to corner the Amazonian Irregular... or at least a suggestion of a desire to talk.

The spectator gathering around the gates and then the shimmering city itself are left behind as the streamlined craft, banners of heraldic tradition flowing from golden spines, gathers momentum. The vanguard leads the procession overland, skimming the tops of coral reefs and kelp forests rather than taking to the heights of the open ocean. Even this way, the route is not straight as-the-shark-swims, but takes on a planned, gradual arc, bypassing the chunky rock formations which tend to reach for the Sea's surface in the region, relatively close to the Amber coast line. The purpose of the arc becomes clear when the train of animals and barges makes an oblique approach on a gusting undersea river and merges into it. From that point, the pace abruptly courses along at close to frigate-speed. Selkie attendants are quick to steady any airbreathers who might otherwise take a bad tumble overboard from that kick in acceleration.

Moire had been all poised and frosty initially, partly for the benefit of the citizenry, but probably also due to the real gravity of this political venture. As nominally described at the start of the trip, this is an opportunity she will not have when (if) she is successfully returned to her rightful body. A show of strength in the great depths, to reaffirm the old pact of loyalty by the Tritons, which had been given, not taken, after that momentous duel between Rebman Queen and Triton King, from which she perished, honourably. Perhaps the *only* way Rebmans could have ultimately known triumph in the Consolidation Wars.

Fortunately, being closer to the sea floor means more to see. Miriam is clearly enjoying those views, and being away from the city. She's had a lot of attention there the last week, and while she is also rather formal as they leave the city she seems to relax some once it's behind them and just the usuals. Uh, plus the queen. Still, less attention on her.

Ruby thankfully doesn't require a Selkie assist during the course correction, but it is good they're there, just in case. The longer the journey, the more time she's got to consider the depth of what has been described. The anxiety is on a steady boil though, because there's Tritons involved, and they never fail to make an impression on her. The passing sights are hard for her to fathom, with her brain still trying to apply top-sider perspective on undersea landmarks. The blur of it is replaced when she turns about and regards those also hitching a ride. Passing over those calm, composed and poised of more inner resolve. She happens to catch Maggie's eye and she carefully transfers herself closer to where Maggie has seated herself.

Maggie is in the enviable position of not having a lot of public attention at thte moment, though it was heavier when the Queen first made her presence known. Even so, as a member of the Queen's party, she maintained decorum until the procession left the city. Riding along, she lets her gaze seek the flicker of fin beyond their party. Flashes of color and life using the stones that seek the surface as anchor or home. The sights are lost when they merge with the current and their speed picks up. Determined not to topple and embarass herself, Maggie takes the shift mostly in stride. What lurching there might have been could be seen as her turning to meet Ruby's gaze. Leaning back a little, she murmers to Ruby softly for a moment.

At the very back, Shao is kneeling on his seat to see further away and also to be able to feel the water currents at his fingertips, for he is extending an arm outside of the watersleigh against all security warnings. A friendly Selkie is standing by, in case the Penglai would catch in some sort of draft and be pulled off. Shao seems amused and keeps looking left and right, filling his eye with the sights. He nods to Ruby and to Maggie as they move in his field of vision.

Ailith watches the sea passing by with the innocent delight of one who finds the view truly novel and new. There's no babbling, no 'hey lookit that'. But still - it's not something a surface dweller would often get the chance to see, and she's making the most of it.

Moire now shows some sign of melting, of relaxing herself, as the scenery whisks by, lush and reefy for some minutes, then craggy and barren for the next batch, then billowing again with giant kelp and schooling life. If the caravan is observed from any given stationary point, it will only be for a moment or so, before it go-go-goooes out of range. Sitting forward from the straight-backed chair, then leaning onto one of the armrests to glance around at most of her craft-companions, Moire bestows a slight smile upon those who appear to be enjoying the ride in this unique and luxurious mode of travel.

After just a short moment's consideration of Maggie's quiet activites, the monarch remarks,"We are, more or less, at the optimal depth for Rebman comfort. The Sunken City is around three times this atmosphere, at which our natural limits would be severely tested. The Elder Races, the Tritons and the Sirens, they who were borne from the Heart of the Sea, and even the Undine, who escaped His Shadow... they know not such limits, but live comfortably in the abiding darkness of the Deeps. It is for this reason the Tritons claim this Lost City for their capital, and Rebmans do not venture a claim otherwise. Only some few Rebmans have gleaned the mystery of the Sea's depths in a manner which rivals the mighty Triton."

Miriam turns from the scenery, to give her attention to the Queen as she speaks. She nods slowly, then says "One day, I hope t'be able to travel'n Rebma without needing help t'breath." Who knows? After all, she's learned the mirrors. "Th'depths'll be another matter entirely. Th'suits we used for th'one city we visited were uncomfortable, but they certainly did th'job."

Ailith notes thoughtfully, "The problem has been solved, in technological shadows. Perhaps...a foray, some day, to acquire those means, and then see how enchantments might be made to do the work."

Ruby crouches down to share a word with Maggie. The tall woman touches the side of one of those soft spongey seats, indulges in experimental tactile satisfaction with a few more pokes, and manages to resist settling her caboose into one of the spare luxurious things. Ruby half-turns and shoots a small salute towards Shao in greeting.

Moire's words draw Ruby's attention to the Monarch. Mentioning the extreme challenges of going deeper, makes her imagine them, and feel as if it's already pressing inwards. An anxious tension already in her form, she pushes her shoulders back, recalling how arduous pressures beyond just Rebma's protective limits can be. "No wondah they be so bloody strong. For them, easier pressures loike Rebma's capital must be...whut...empowerin? Upliftin?" Ruby pauses and digests comments from others. "Not tah be suspicious or nuthin, but I assumin Tritons not eager tah make things easier for others tah take trips there on a whim, aye?"

Maggie returns Moire's smile when she finde it centered on her. The sea floor is beautiful and strange beyond measure. The treasures of the deep places, so sought by some upworlders are here before them. She does indulge in further looylouing when her brief conversation with Ruby has concluded.

Draging her attention back to Moire, Maggie's concern sparks and she looks at the others slowly, one by one by one. Then her glance flashes to those accompanying the procession. Finally, she looks back to Moire, "If this is about the limit that the Sea's Blessing gives us, and the City itself is lower down, do you mean to go on alone when we arrive? Or did I misunderstand part of that, please?" Tension grows in her as well, though likely from a different source than Ruby's.

Shao also turns his attention to the front. Many legitimate concerns were raised, so his eyebrows lower into a frown. He finds a small loaf of spiced seaweeds to nibble from. He looks between everyone, trying to find the best source of self confidence. Moire ends up being the only source of safety, so far. He would stare, if it was not so rude or weird. He probably will never get used to the He-Queen.

Ailith looks thoughtful. "Empowering? ...Possibly not," she muses. "The tritons won that duel. But peace remains. It may be that a cause is they find Rebma much as we would find living on the peak of Kolvir; the water too thin to comfortably breathe. They are adapted to the great deep. I would not suggest it to them, as it seems clear they are proud. But ...I would observe them, I think, when next they visit Rebma. They would, if proud, try to conceal it. But if the water is too thin for them, they would be out of breath easily."

Moire glances at Miriam, eyes tracing the tattoo work over the Princess's clavicle. Gills. Those are, of course, the magical equivalent of breathing underwater, and it is really the crushing pressure and the exposure which remain the real danger for outsiders in Rebma. Technically in this Rebman comfort zone, the average flatlander would already be fishfood, unprotected. As this is rudimentary knowledge amongst this company by now, she doesn't even bother repeating it, however as Maggie requests reassurance, Moire coolly reiterates, "This is not the limit of Rebman ability, Margaret. Even Rebmans bereft of the special advantage exhibited by Prince Martin and Lord Merrisol, could approach the territorial outskirts of the Sunken City... but they would be far from their best form. The Tritons know this from experience," she nods to Ruby there. "And it is not in Rebmans' best interests to display a weakness thus to the Tritons, hence, the span of millenia since the Crown betook itself to those fathoms. Within this vessel, I shall stand in the Sunken City without frailty, as will all whom I have touched." She looks thoughtfully at Ailith in turn. "That would be wise too, Lady Solaris, not to poke the pride of the Triton."

Maggie blushes as Moire reassures her. "Thank you." Turning her gaze forward, she shakes her head ever so slightly, the movement almost not there at all. Letting it go, she refocuses on Miriam, then the others. Spotting Shao back there, she smiles at him before turning her attention back to the discussion. She looks between Moire and Ailith briefly, her expression sobering by degrees.

Ruby hinges her jaw in small movements, like someone trying to make their ears pop. Taking some sort of cue from everything said, she works at chuffing up a little. Steps are taken to adopt a persona, or at least not let intimidation of the denizens of the crushing depths show as obviously. Gotta work herself up into some sort of state of uncrushable-ness. "Warden's body ~is~ a good choice. If I 'ad tah wear a bloke, absolutely 'ad tah, it'd be Merrisol, Truth." It sounds as weird as she thought it might, and she starts to frown now that it's uttered and the words are free on the currents. "...'E ain't weak. Resilient an good structure, just sayin. Pardon." This last offered to everyone in the vicinity.

Apparently, Miriam has had such a crazy week she forgot she has gills. She wasn't born with them, after all. Or, maybe it's just been that long since she left the breathable part of Rebma and needed them to become more than just tattoos. The young are silly things, sometimes. She listens to the others, quiet for now.

Up ahead, the Dolphins fan out, most of the dozen shooting out of the current's strong pull on either side. Their silvery forms dart with slippery grace into what looks like a chasm drop, skimming the edges of the gulf. The Rebmans mounted upon the sailfish like windsurfers, and straddling the saddle-like horns of the turtles' shells, pull the skiffs up until they are just cresting the flow of the current, scudding as momentum slows to something less breakneck. Then, safely lifting away from its influence, the train swoops into the new course set by the lead Dolphins, following them over the edge of the chasm.

Which is not a chasm at all, it turns out, but rather a sloping basin of such immense breadth that the other side cannot be visually discerned, nor the edges to the left or right. The crafts skim lower to pass over massive steppes of varying terrain, and can now view what appears to be low-lying village sprawl. At the Queen's bidding, the Selkie scout explains this is not the Sunken City, nor even Triton habitations. The settlements belong to various small races apparently huddling near the edge of the Tritons' territorial defenses. This necessarily means they must appear utterly non-threatening to be allowed to exist in the area. That, and/or offer a greater benefit to the Elder Race than the effort it would take to sweep them off the doorstep.

Ruby keeps a hold of something supportive as she peers into the basin. If her breath could escape in bubbles, it would at the sight of the sprawl of 'other' creatures clustering at the periphery of the Triton habitat. She closes her mouth and stands straighter. There's a urge to start pretending to be less a rubbernecking topsider, and more of a well composed sort. Feeling exposed, she murmurs, "I s'pose we've been seen before now, aye?" She widens her stance and lifts her chin. Look at the big unscared amazon. "Certainly better than I can...bloody depths."

Ailith watches the dolphins with delighted curiosity. "What are they breathing?" she asks. "I thought dolphins breathed air, not water, and we are rather far down for them to reach the surface."

Miriam keeps one hand on something stable, for when she needs to unexpectedly hold onto something. As they go over the edge into that sloping basin, her attention turns to the village the scout explains to them. Her eyebrow rise a little, and she looks curious about Ailith's question. To it, she asks "Will we be stopping at th'village, or going past?"

"We shall not tarry here." Moire takes Ruby's assumption into account, adding, "While in this case our delegation is expected, I should not be surprised if no direct notice has yet been taken. It is not entirely arrogant of them to believe themselves able to confront any force arriving just at the outskirts without prior warning."

The Scout nods reservedly to that before adding respectfully, "We have been observed, by their small allies at least." He laughs a little, hearing Ailith. "Have you noticed we've all escaped the lash of rude humor this whole time, Admiral? Because they've all been holding their breath!"

Having scouted this far ahead, and right on cue, the Dolphins abruptly flip their flukes and take their leave of the party. Long twirling funnels trail in their wake as they climb straight upwards, out of the basin and into the haze of the filtered light under the sea's surface. It is incalculably far, as far as the sky seems from land, and yet the Dolphins zip away into specks, dissolving from view within a dozen seconds.

Ruby makes a bit of a face as she had missed that aspect of the Dolphins. Now she clues into it, and watches them swerve off with such speed. Envious of their mobility, she tilts her head down again to peers at the steppes of civilization they move past. "This be too deep..." Reaching up with her free hand to massage at her throat, she considers just how long the earlier beneficial enchantment will last. "Anythin strong or resilient enough tah challenge Tritons, I don't wanna meet."

Miriam nods to the answer, and contents herself with observing what she can of the area as they pass through. When the scout comments on the lack of dolphin humor, she chuckles and then watches them ascend. Then Ruby comments, and she smiles. "We've kind've made't our business th'last few years t'go looking for things that might challenge Tritons, haven't we?" she says.

Ailith tilts her head. "A show of strength, or preparing for defense?" she asks. "Are matters not peaceful between the peoples?"

Maggie slides a smile to Miriam, then nods to Ruby. Her answer to Ailith, however, is decidedly calm and even, "Matters are peaceful for the most part. The beings we have encountered are aggressors. We defend Rebma or her allys. Or those in need." She flickers Miriam a sort of thoughtful look as something a little unsettling manifests in her thoughts. Shaking it free, she fades back from where she is standing to move nearer to Ruby.

"There exists a treaty between the Elder Races and Rebmans which has held for millenia, forged well in the crucible of war," says the Queen, after a brief attempt to sort what Ailith and Maggie are referring to in their remarks. "A considered respect for the distinct cultures, allowing them their own territorial space and enclaves within the realm, is as vital to our continued peace as our military pacts." She also looks at Miriam, and nods. "The Triton units which bolster our ranks shall soon see valiant purpose in the Deeps. Their prowess is both highly linked to their individual pride and identity, as well as a clannish matter of ranking and honour," she notes to Ailith.

The sledges press onward, down the slope that continues to fall away steadily at a gradual angle, finding a wide lane of passage which appears deliberately free of habitation, and may therefore be a common route for denizens and visitors alike. Whether the sea bed bears any delineation marking is hard to tell, for such details are lost to the stirred silt of the crafts' skimming, and a deep gloom which seems to rise up to meet and engulf them. A mere glance upwards would prove it to be the complete loss of the sun's reach and not some nefarious fog. Either way, it results in zero visibility. The dark ocean above becomes for a few moments an unseen and massively immeasurable presence, and a reminder that the depth is now a point at which the average Rebman begins to feel vaguely unsettled. There is still quite a ways to go before feeling truly icky, of course.

Martin is somewhere nearby, dealing with the tail end of a trump call. He has been relatively quiet for most of the mission, stepping back for Moire to shine. He has had to deal with several things lately given the situation above ground and spent a lot of time with the military at Gwyn Gaer. He's finally done with whatever he had to deal with and stands within line of sight of the Queen to observe.

Ailith nods. "As in days of old, when kings of Lyonesse would treat with one another, or with the chieftains of Kitezh. Displays meant to demonstrate equality, when done correctly. That I do not intend to conquer you, nor will I be conquered. Balances of power. At least, such was the intent. The Tritons are very strong, therefore when in Triton waters, Rebma must demonstrate it is equally strong." Not explaining, no. Speaking aloud, but enough to herself that she invites only confirmation or correction.

Ruby murmurs to Maggie as she stands closer. "You remindin me 'o those squid-things an other 'orrors. An what Miriam was 'inting about. Tha tomb." Ruby lowers a hand to her stomach and rubs in swirling motions. With the sea's darkness closing in, her lips twitch. "I should 'ave eaten more. I'm sure me appetite will be least 'o worries when we deeper though."

When they reach the depth at which the sun's light is gone, Miriam briefly looks upwards. She resists the urge to provide her own light, though. It would be a little too much like presenting a very easy target. She listens to the others again, focusing on the company now that it's too dark to see much past it.

Faint points of light reveal themselves in the distance ahead, but offer no help other than as beacons. Then the same Selkie relays helpfully, "That's three sixes. Lights!~" And the Adepts Aqueous take action, igniting the strange contents of braziers mounted at the corners of the vessels to create glowing flames which do not gutter explosively into clouds of steam. Well-placed and polished mirror shields extend the glow's reach, allowing the travelers to view enough of the immediate environment to continue along at a fair pace.

"Six-hundred and sixty-six fathoms," expounds the Selkie, pointing at the distant twinkling. "Four thousand feet down, Where it's well and truly midnight, marks the highest of the Triton's battlements. "And the point one must display one's own lights or else invite immediate hostilities." He speaks in general terms, surely. These skiffs must be immune to aggression, treaty-wise. And those glowing lamps are just for lighting their way.

Moire listens to the Scout placidly in both darkness and the return of light. Perhaps she had been aware of this important traveller's tidbit, despite not having gone to the Sunken City herself in this or the past lifetime. There's no harm in reviewing, however. She turns back to Ailith, thinking over the parallels made. "That is a fair truth, Lady Solaris," she nods. "With the understanding that strength takes myriad forms and complexities. A mere gesture, executed timely, may command as much respect as a charging unit."

The basin takes a steep drop upon reaching the beacons, the beginnings of the Sunken City in the form of large guardian citadels interconnected by long, intricate constructions. These could have been impressive aqueducts on land, their underwater function uncertain. Swirling beacon fires of blue emit their glow from within the domes, radiating through their honey-comb formations. This first stage of the lost city stretches away on both the left and the right into the gloom, with only spots of ghostlight to indicate the presence of more citadels. There is an impression of vastness in this, a sense that the Rebma capital and Rivlok itself could fall through this ring without disturbing any part of the perimeter.

Ailith nods, watching the faint lights outside the ship. "Strange that a place so thoroughly Hers should be one where the magic she gifted me poses greater risk." She blinks. "Or perhaps not so strange. She does have little patience for foolishness."

Martin does not have much to say yet, he seems to be content with listening to his grandmother speak. He's keeping a trained eye on the inky darkness of the Sea beyond. He knows Tritons, has worked with them in the militia. But there are many variables in the depths. "Things are rarely what they seem." He comments.

"Bog's barnacled b..." Ruby murmers, gazing upon the fortifications. Rudely, she detaches from Maggie's company by a few paces, so she can lean out and take in the scope of it. She looks between the craft's own glow and then the undersea city. Her head aches at the dimensions. Trying to compose herself, she adopts a sneer. "I think this counts more than a gesture, for meself." The previously alerted numerology settles somewhere in her subconscious but isn't comforting even if it is divisible by 3, making her tense.

Moire looks upon her grandson as he returns to the well-cushioned passenger area of the barge. "Just so," she agrees quietly. "And we are not the sole guardians of Rebma's secrets." There are apparently enough to go around. The beacons now looming far overhead, their light picking the oulines of gargantuan structures, garner her attention then, but she continues to speak, addressing Ailith, "Can you name your stern mistress, Lady Ailith, and explain what place this is you claim for her?" She leaves off the capitalization for now.

As the land continues to slope, the structures only grow taller still, thickening into solid sculptural rock. The Selkie Scout has stood up securely at the side rail, to gauge their approach, lifting his nose to get a full whiff of the rushing currents which course past after sliding over the craft's glass windshield. "Oh Tritons never built any of this," he tells Ruby, overhearing her queasy comments. "When you take up residence in a Lost City, what you see's what you get. Still..." he considers, and nods eventual wordless agreement before signalling the outriders.

Martin nods thoughtfully. "There are ancients and there are ancients." He glances at Ailith curiously at the word 'claim'. He stands mainly off to the side, watching and assessing as they progress. Looking for any possible threats.

"Many names, in many Shadows," says Ailith. "Queen of Air and Darkness is one of them. Queen of the Winter Court, another. Where it is cold and dark, like midwinter nights, there she is. She gave me the magic of ice that I use. So this place would touch on her dominion as a goddess. But if one makes ice in the depths of the sea, it is like making a balloon; it will want to float. Were I to craft a blade of ice here, and let it go? It would not melt. It would rise to the surface like a spear, and might well injure or kill some innocent being on the way. She has little concern for life, as such. But she does come down rather heavily on foolishness and stupidity. I was only noting that I must take much greater care in this environment - to use only weapons provided, perhaps. Or if I craft them, to hold onto them so they hurt only where intended."

Shao finally gets bored of playing with the currents. Perhaps it is because he is a little hungry, for he is nibbling at jerky of some kind. Mystery jerky. He is here to provide extra safety and the group almost has reached its destination, after all. He takes a pause from his snack to stretch, so his muscles are not all sleepy when they finally have to brave this high pressure environment. He offers some jerky to his seat neighbors, since he has brought more than enough, just in case.

Moire browlifts faintly over what may be blithe heresy in Ailith's description of her deity, specifically Her association with the Sea's cold depths... but that's a lecture best left of the clergy or the knights of Eilrahc. "Once amongst the Tritons, there will not be need for drawn weapons," she advises. "Should there arise a threat in their capital, their rules of combat must be followed."

The sledges have been losing momentum and sinking as the coachmen rein in the beasts. Most of the Rebman contingent can be seen to have lost some measure of staunchness at this new depth, now some thousand feet deeper. If this weren't the sea, they might break into a clammy sweat. The barges coast into the silt at a smooth angle and scud gently to a halt in between two cyclopean pillars which support the 'aqueducts'. Resting there in what seems a minuscule aura of light, the scale of the surroundings is very much on Giant terms, even considering the height of a Triton which is almost double that of a human. No cozy habitations have been set here to contradict this notion of trespassing in another world entirely.

The Selkie attendant does not seem any worse for wear himself, naturally. He bows to Martin and Moire, "Your Majesty, Your Highness, from here, those of us who are able to withstand greater depths than these, shall accompany you into the city." The rest will cool their heels here and restlessly tend to the fish and their own lurking headaches. He nabs a chunk of jerky from Shao before vaulting the rail to the smoggy sea bed, his feet hitting broad stone tiles beneath the shifting sediment.

Ailith simply nods. "That is good to hear, your majesty. Thank you. That removes an entire set of possible concerns."