The Emperor knew of their technology. He knew what they had developed, yet instead of condemning them or seeing them as a threat, he had decided to "help" them. The truth behind his offer was clear: they were to be tools in his war against the demons, expendable assets to be used for their technological prowess, and discarded once their usefulness had run out.
This should have been cause for celebration. The Emperor himself acknowledging their work, offering resources and assistance to further their progress into technology. But Por, and every other ratman in the room, understood the chilling reality beneath it all. They were pawns. They would be sent to die in a war they had no part in starting. And if they survived, it wouldn't be on their own terms.
Tahlia rolled the scroll back up, her gaze drifting over the kneeling figures before her. "Your future is no longer your own," she said softly, almost as if in pity. "But you will serve a purpose."
