Killian gestured toward the enforcers gathered within the cabin. Where moments before he had seen little more than hardened men of questionable trade, he now regarded them differently—not as thugs, but as the possible foundation of something larger. Instruments of order. The first pieces in a deliberate expansion.
"If we have a State," he said, measured and precise, "we have votes in Congress. And with votes come Senators. With Senators…"—he allowed the thought to settle—"those 'gentlemen' in New York will be obliged to seek our consent before passing any law that concerns us."
His tone remained calm, almost analytical.
"The American system is not chaos—it is a code. And a code may be understood… and used. We need not beg for power. We will take it, lawfully, through their own provisions. Their territory laws will grant us the means to build something of our own."
His gaze lifted slightly.
"A place where the name Vance carries as much weight as Adams."
