Ciylos head was still spinning at the newness of his life. He had heard of Evil, but had never met or even seen her and he was not worried. Apparently she had failed at something because he had taken her position and she was nowhere to be found. Nor was the Cimmerian Moff Agassiz, whose position was now held by the Disciple Rage, though it was widely rumored she was dead. He moved towards the bridge, carrying his haughty frame heavily, his boots clunking on the floor. He wasn't agile on his own; his abilities helped him immensely. But his size packed a punch and he wasn't easily worn down. Reaching the bridge, he nodded at Rage, who greeted him with a left arm across the chest and head bowed. Ciylo addressed the disciples there and contacted the other ships through intercom.
"The Warlord has instructed the army to move to Agba's location. All troops prepare for deployment and battle," Ciylo commanded. He turned to look out the bridges main window towards the stars as all the ships turned and began to make their journey to war. He watched for a few moments, his heart beating just a little harder in excitement and a smile cracked under his mask. This is what he lived for. Turning away he walked off the command deck and made his way to his quarters to make his own preparations. He still had much to prove; he had only been promoted for a few months but his training as the Warlords apprentice seemed stalled as Marca himself seemed stalled and completely obsessed with finding Agba. Perhaps it all had something to do with Evil's disappearance and Agassiz's death, he thought as he strapped the dual black sabre to his waist. He looked down at it, fidgeted, then unclipped it and sat on the edge of his bed. Staring at nothing in particular Ciylo hoped to himself that this was a worthy fight of power and advancement and not one of revenge. There were whispers amongst the handmaidens and servants about Evil's disappearance. Certainly none were true, but the servants weren't known for fantastical imaginations. He sighed, removing his mask and rubbing his pale cheeks then moved to lie down, shrugging off his nerves as pre-battle jitters and inexperience. Still, something tugged at his soul annoyingly.