Tulon, Prisia
The Master sighed.
He was not supposed to be here.
He should have been at home, resting, conserving his strength for what was to come.
Instead, he was in Prisia, a nation that should have been in Austrany's hands.
A nation that should have ended because that was part of the script he'd willed for the war.
Instead, they clung on, and that will to fight resonated with the common monkeys. Now, popular sentiment was turning in Usona. Veering towards alliance despite his intent to maintain neutrality until the decisive moment.
At least it was manageable. It would take some careful steering, but the Master had been patient for much of the last centuries as he bided his time and grew his strength.
But the one who had changed his plans for him would not be forgiven.
It was not hard to follow Naomi's string. She'd developed quite the taste for fine things, in the years since she'd become his daughter.
