The room fell silent.
Daskor's jaw tightened.
"They are moving too fast."
An officer near the door spoke carefully. "My lord, if we surrender now, we may preserve the capital."
"The capital?" Daskor said softly. "This capital exists because I made it useful. Without the fleet, without the relay, without fear, these people will kneel to whoever feeds them next."
He looked toward the sealed door leading to the lower vault.
"Open the black reserve."
Several officers stiffened.
The aide from the cruiser stared at him. "My lord, that reserve is not meant for use inside the city."
"It is mine to use."
"If released here, it could poison the lower districts."
"Then the enemy will inherit ash and sickness."
For the first time, the aide did not obey immediately.
Daskor turned toward him.
"You hesitate?"
"My lord," the aide said, voice shaking, "this is our city."
Daskor's expression hardened into something ugly.
"It was our city."
