Stupid Sexy Cryptids [42, 43]

42: The Inescapable Offer

"I..." Kawathra trembled, mouth opening and closing.

The Emperor of Earth was here, finally in her grasp and yet she was utterly powerless to do anything about it. A single word from him to the Marshal would unmake her… permanently. A bullet to the head from a non-Crystalloid gun. Once she came to, the Serval would say just a few words and Kawathra would stop existing, stop being herself, maybe even stop liking data charts! 

A most abominable fate!

The scales were tipped against her to an insane degree. How did the Emperor manage to twist reality to trap her so? How did she start with a potential consort sitting safely inside a Corpse Seeker and end up with nothing at all in less than five minutes, on the ground with her Division's Marshall pointing a gun at her head?

Kawathra looked at the Emperor's gesture of the offered hug trap, then at his face, drinking in every detail, her mind working overtime, madly estimating probabilities, overheating at the implications of it all.

Another impossible data point presented itself to her.

A kobold could not be bound to two Masters! Or could he? Maybe he wasn’t a kobold at all. Maybe Princess Aquillianne and Knight Galateya were somehow the kobolds in this equation? Kobolds to a living god, the local focal point of combined human belief, the psychic ruler of this deceptively primitive, safe-seeming world.

Something snapped within the prad magpie girl. A decision made, the weight of losing everything versus bowing to the local Emperor. Time slowed as a thousand evaluations rushed through her head all fractions of her reaching the same inescapable conclusion.

Slowly, as if moving through thick water, she reached out and took his hand. The moment their skin touched, she felt it… a resonance she couldn't quantify, couldn't chart, couldn't reduce to data points. 

"I'm sorry," she breathed, and then suddenly she was moving forward, falling into his offered embrace. Her feathered hands wrapped around him as she pressed her feathered head against his chest, tears flowing freely, dropping to her knees. "I'm so very, very sorry. I… I was just following orders, I didn't think about—I didn’t know!"

"Shh," The Emperor of Humanity said gently, one hand stroking her feathery head. "It's okay. You're scared. Death is scary, especially when you've already lost pieces of yourself to it."

"I’m so sorry, your grace," Kawathra sobbed into his gray, perfectly mundane shirt, confessing to her crimes, unable to stop herself in the commanding presence of a god who could unmake her with a mere word. "The things I've done, the data I've compiled that's been used to—to hurt so many humans on so many worlds! In my obedience to the Frontenachii… I’ve optimized suffering. I saw it all as just numbers, just efficiency, but it's not, it's not just data, it's lives, and I—"

"You're recognizing that now, right, Kawthy?" he asked simply. 

“Yes, yes!” Kawathra rapidly nodded. “I... I've always know, but I could do nothing about it! I won’t do it again! I had to obey, had to, or my soul would catch fire!”

“And now?”

“Now I recognize your authority and submit to it!”

"That's what matters in the end. That you turn your future away from disaster. That you become more, take a step forward." The Emperor smiled.

"I am in your excellency's debt," Kawathra whispered, the formal words tumbling out like a rock avalanche. "Whatever you require, whatever data you need, I—"

"I don't need your debt," he interrupted gently. "Just... maybe help us instead of hunting us? My Lady Galateya is trying to do something different here. Something better. She could use a Datamancer who understands that people aren't just statistics."

Marshal Nexxali watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, tapping her gun against her belt. "Heh. Did you just... freakin' hug the bird into submission?"

"I hugged a frightened person who needed comfort," the Lord of Earth corrected, still holding the trembling magpie. "There's a difference."

Nexxali bent down to the Datamancer, sniffing her face. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I know many things, but I will reveal nothing!” Kawathra shook her head. “Nothing at all! I… I understand the consequences of… of disobeying my Liege! I… I submit myself to his Lordship as a willing hostage so that he may do with me as he wishes and pray that… that he takes mercy upon me.”

“Oh?” Nexxali purred. “Aren’t we suddenly full of cooperation? What of your desire to serve… what’s her face?”

“C-comander Sillicia isn’t my dragon,” Kawathra revealed. “I signed a… a contract with Agent Langalirri that bound me to the North Acadian Frontenachii Omnicorp, not to… to a particular commander!”

“Really?” The Serval blinked.

"Yes! I serve the fleet itself!" Kawathra declared. "Not any individual commander. According to Frontenachii Colonial Regulation 772, Subsection J, Paragraph 19-B, a fleet asset may submit to temporary custody of a recognized planetary authority during active negotiations to prevent diplomatic incidents!"

Nexxali's golden eyes flashed, her hand squeezing tighter onto her gun.

"Very obscure regulation," Kawathra clarified rapidly, feathers trembling. "From the Second Mellaxian Accord event. Rarely invoked!"

She mentally evaluated herself.

[Heart rate: 247 bpm - dangerously elevated for Pradavarian physiology]
[Stress hormones: 340% above baseline]
[Probability that Ashcroft Clifford is the Emperor of Earth: 99.97% and rising]
[Probability of permanent death of self if revealing this: 97.2%]

"Don’t worry your ginger head about it, Nexy," the Emperor said. "Give me control over the Corpse Seeker, yeah?”

“Sure." The Serval yawned, relaxing her grip on the gun. “Corpse Seeker 881-Kappa. Obey Ashcroft Clifford's verbal commands. Got it?”

“Acknowledged,” the Corpse Seeker flashed.

Kawathra choked. The Emperor really had their Marshall this deep in his palm. 

How?! Did he use his incredible psychic powers to mentally dominate her?! Was she his kobold too?!

“Oh, and release Stormy from the order to sit down or whatever." The Emperor added.

“Aight,” the cat prad said. “Stormy, you’re free to do whatever.”

Kawathra's mind fragmented into parallel processing streams again:

[Stream 1: Does the Emperor know about Stormy's potential consort arrangement? Can he read my thoughts?! If you can read this, I submit! Please don't perma-kill me, Emperor!] 

[Stream 2: The Emperor is protecting the local human. A pattern consistent with the Emperor's lore behavior.] 

[Stream 3: He's giving orders to a Marshal Commandant like it's nothing! It’s very possible that he can unbind the charmed warrior barbarian himself, but he’s CLEARLY showing me how much the Marshal is in his palm!] 

She watched as the Emperor pulled car keys from his pocket, tossing them to Stormy with unexpected familiarity. "Think you can drive a Cherokee?"

"I... yes, I can drive," Stormy managed, catching the keys and standing up. “Where to?”

[Analyzing social dynamics: Emperor trusts a random human with his vehicle.] 

[Correction: Not random! StormoLyx provided vampire intel.] 

[Sub-analysis: Emperor maintains network of local human informants.] 

[Terrifying conclusion: This was orchestrated. The meeting at the pub. The vampire hunt. All of this was…]

"Just up the hillside. Galateya, Nexy, you’re with Stormy. Follow us to my house then," the Emperor said, then turned to her. "Kawathra, you're with me. We need to talk."

Her talons clicked involuntarily against each other as she stood, following him to the Corpse Seeker Kappa. 

“Seeker Kappa, stairwell to the cockpit,” the Emperor ordered and the Corpse Seeker manifested stairs, the crystalline materia parting to create a door.

[His familiarity with the Omnid tech is shocking, but expected. 99.4214% probability that the Emperor has intel on all pradavarian Scrut planetfall Divisions.]

As they climbed inside, the Datamancer’s split mind ran another hundred probability scenarios, each one more dire than the last.

The moment the Seeker's walls sealed them in privacy, she dropped to her knees again.

“So, Datamancer Kawthy, what have you figured out?” He asked.

"You're… the Emperor of Earth," she confessed. "The sound modulation concealed your voice resonance, but the speech patterns, the inflection on certain words, the 82.7% correlation in shoulder-to-neck-to-head ratio despite the attempted visual obfuscation..." She trembled. "I've analyzed a recording of your conversation with Commander Sillicia 1,847 times. It's you.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“No, my Liege!"

He settled onto the organic couch, studying her with deceptively ordinary hazel eyes. "And what are you going to do with this information, Kawathra?"

[Option 1: Report to Commander Sillicia - Perma-death. Probability of survival: 0.0001%] 

[Option 2: Attempt blackmail - Perma-death. Probability of survival: 0.00001%] 

[Option 3: Submit completely - Probability of survival: 74.3%]

[Option 4: Offer strategic alliance - Probability of survival: 61.2%]

"I bow to your authority," she said, choosing the optimal path. "Your planetary sovereignty supersedes my fleet assignment. The Frontenachii Princess chose you as her Administrator. The Legate has accepted Knight Galateya's blood bond to you, an unprecedented situation of two highborn Omnids blood and soul tied to one human. By every metric that matters, you ARE the legitimate authority here."

She pulled up a holographic display with trembling talons, showing her calculations. "Opposing you would be... incredibly suboptimal. You command our Marshal Commandant and orchestrated the discovery of the vampire nest to elevate Division 881's ranking. You're playing multidimensional… chess while the rest of us are learning checkers." Kawathra tried to complement the local walking god.

"That's a lot of clever assumptions," he said mildly.

"Statistical certainties," she nodded, her mind racing through more data. "You needed Division 881 to succeed. You desire to protect Knight Galateya from Commander Sillicia. You probably have Princess Aquillianne hidden somewhere and you’ve scrambled her Astral signature to—"

She stopped, seeing his expression.

[Threat assessment: MAXIMUM] [Recommended action: STOP RAMBLING!]

"I'm… simply very good at pattern recognition," she said weakly. "It's... it's what I do. I understand patterns, interpret data presented to me."

"Yes," he agreed. "Which is why I need to know: are you going to be a problem, or are you going to help us?"

"Help!" she squeaked immediately. "Definitely help! My calculations show Earth's best probability for optimal outcomes involves your continued authority! As the divinely-ordained Planetary Lord you’re… already likely in communication with one or more Legates, discussing terms. Beta-Knight Galateya, as an appreciator of justice, represents a 73% probability of more ethical, collaborative governance. Her engagement bond to you makes sense. You represent..." she paused, running more calculations, "No, you are… a human who can stand as equal to Omnids. Or even… even above them if you are capable of concealing your location from ten thousand planetfall Scruts!"

“Have you encountered others like me then?” He asked.

“We have,” Kawathra bobbed. “Divine tier Archmagi. Immortal cultivators. Lords of vast planetary Empires with whom concessions had to be made by the Legates. You’ve hidden yourself well from our Scruts! The Admiral made a terrible mistake dropping a moon piece on your planet. It is highly likely that… the Frontenachii will offer me to you as an asset, if you simply ask for my life as payment for the damage to your world and satellite. Why haven’t you revealed your vast psychic powers to the fleet command, my Lord?”

“I have my reasons,” the Emperor shrugged. 

“Reasons?” She tilted her head sideways.

“I wish to see how far the stupid cryptids can dig themselves a grave on my world.”

Kawathra gulped.

The Immortal cultivator Lords of the God-beast populated Earth were powerful, but they were foolish, flaunting their invincibility and showing their prowess out in the open. The Emperor of this world was a clever, dangerous enemy for the Omnids, was playing a dastardly game of cat and mouse, planning to trap the fleet command into making mistakes, to boggle them down on this world. 

Undoubtedly, he despised the human-art in the halls of their starships and sought to free the souls trapped within.

A trap! The vast scope of the Emperor’s trap was rising dramatically. Would the Omnids even leave this Earth? The safe, muted Astral… Was all a vast deception?

"I offer myself as your intelligence asset," Kawathra declared with another bow. "My data processing capabilities, my understanding of fleet logistics, my ability to obscure inconvenient information—all at your disposal, my Liege!"

“Your blood contract permits such betrayal of the Frontenachii?”

“Many sign their souls away without modifying the blood contract with the Frontenachii agent. I’ve included many clauses, loopholes and future outcome probabilities. The Frontenachii know that powers greater than them exist and that agreements must be made with such for the greater good of their Omnicorp progress. It is imperative for me to spend as much time as possible by your side, serving you and diplomatically attempting to guide you towards a situation that is advantageous to you and also to the Frontenachii Omnicorp interests. As long as you are satisfied, maybe the third fleet won’t be turned into scrap metal.”

The Emperor leaned back, evaluating her with dark intelligence that made her feathers ripple.

43 Contract Loops

"Tell me about this fleet data interest clause in your contract," I said, watching the magpie who prostrated herself at my feet. "Sounds like you've thought things ahead."

Kawathra's black-blue eyes brightened slightly. I supposed that discussing contract loopholes was less terrifying than processing my supposed divinity. "Standard Frontenachii blood contracts are... crude instruments. They assume absolute obedience without considering edge cases. I went over every single Frontenachii Omnicorp legislation the Agent presented to me and added forty six modification clauses to my contract, including provisions for conflicting orders, capture by superior forces, and encounters with entities the Frontenachii classify as 'Divine Tier Threats.'"

"Which you think I am."

"The probability matrices are quite clear," she stated. "Your ability to completely resist Marshal-level Charmchain, your knowledge of our weaknesses, the way reality seems to bend around you to create advantageous situations..."

I suppressed a chortle. Reality wasn't bending around me, I was just good at improvisation and everyone kept making dumb assumptions that worked in my favor.

"Plus," she continued, digging deeper into her wild deductions, "the timing of the vampire nest discovery, precisely when Division 881 needed a victory right before Galateya was assigned to us? The location data from Sherlock Holmes. The Marshal's unusual behavior patterns when she's near you? The way Knight Galateya looks at you as an equal rather than a subordinate? These assuredly aren't coincidences! They're evidence of high-level reality manipulation."

“Maybe I’m lucky,” I suggested.

"Luck at this scale isn't luck," she said firmly. "It's divine power expressing itself through probability. It is possible that you are a System Wizard or one of their clients, operating within their dimension-altering, reality-warping narrative. I've read about such divine-tier, unstoppable entities within the Frontenachii corporate records!" she ranted on, "one of them appeared in Omnithornia in 2025 at Skyfall Academy when a teenage Mothman opened a gate to an infinite dead world at a delving performance show! The System Wizard could not be stopped with physical violence and the magic of an Elder Omnid had no affect on the entity. It left only after making a verbal agreement with one of the students trading a lighter artifact for a story!"

“Right then,” I said. “Kawhy, drive the corpse Seeker up to my house. We’ll make more plans there. Unit Epsy told you the address of the Clifford mansion, yes? It’s just up the mountain road.”

“Urm, yes. Epsy looked into your local estate’s address. You assuredly have many eyes in many places, my Liege!” The magpie nodded rapidly. I leaned back on the crystalline couch, letting her stew in whatever diresome conclusions her hyperactive bird brain had manufactured about me.

"Corpse Seeker Kappa, acknowledge pilot transfer to Datamancer Kawathra,” I said.

"Pilot acknowledged," the Seeker responded.

I watched as she settled into position. "Take it slow, Kawthy. Human vehicles can't match the Seeker speed."

"Understood." She created a holographic window with a gesture, showing the red Jeep following us. "Would you like audio-visual surveillance of the vehicle's interior? I can create a resonance scanner beam that will tap into the electromagnetic spectrum and—"

"Sure, why not." I was curious what was unfolding in my car in my absence.

A holographic window expanded, revealing the Cherokee's interior. Piotr sat rigidly in the driver's seat, his armored gloves gripping the steering wheel.

"—rimitive vehicle can definitely handle more speed! " Nexxali was saying. "See how that mirror is missing? That's from when my human plowed me into that there cliffside. And over there, he's run me over about seven times!" She laughed, pointing at the road.

I mentally facepalmed.

“Um, right,” Piotr said. “Is that a thing you enjoy or something?”

“Hrm,” Nexxali mused. “Some of the Omnid commanders definitely might be too much into getting killed as foreplay since the Incarnator can bring them back without any lasting psychic damage. For me personally, getting run over was a definite big turn on. It’s not everyday when a guy can not just ignore my orders, but also run me over to prove a point.”

“What point is that?” Piotr wondered.

“The point that he likes me and isn’t a pushover,” Nexxali grinned. “See, he gave me a heart collar. It’s sooo frrrrrigin' cute!”

“What?” the dragon girl sputtered, head snapping to the Serval. “Are you saying that… Ash ran you over… using his vehicle?”

“Yeah. What? Don’t judge me! It was... consensual!" Nexxali declared, staring at Galateya’s shocked face. "We were mutually trying to murder each other! Very romantic!"

"That's not what romantic means, Marshal." Galateya ground out.

"Says who? Boring ass, generic romance books?" Nexxali wiggled on the back seat. "Different species have different courtship rituals. Some spiders eat their mates! I just got lightly vehicularly compressed a few times. Practically vanilla by comparison."

"Vehicular compression is not a courtship ritual!" Galateya protested.

"It is, if I liked it! Don't hate on it till you've tried it on a date!"

"I'm not asking someone to murder me for a thrill!"

"Your loss." Nexxali shrugged. "Oh! Stormy! Let me introduce everyone properly since we're all going to be working together!" She sat up, adjusting her dead hexsuit with exaggerated dignity. "The colorful dragon in the passenger seat is Knight Galateya Frontenachii, future Baroness of Earth, destined ruler of this entire mudball, master of... uh... what are you master of?"

"Nothing," Galateya muttered.

"Master of Nothing!" Nexxali continued without missing a beat. "Very minimalist and uhhh... selfless! And I'm Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim, her personal advisor on How Not To Accidentally Destroy the Earth While Running It. My qualifications include bossing almost everyone with my voice and… uhh… being conscious most of the time.” She laughed.

Galateya rolled her eyes.

"Teya, this is Storm-O-Lyx, the Warrior Prince of Warsaw, heir to the throne of Poland! Storm-O was the one who found a vampire nest for Division 881 when literally ten thousand Scruts couldn't!"

"Poland doesn't have a throne," Piotr let out. "It's a republic not a monarchy."

"Not with that attitude!" Nexxali giggled. “Just stick to the Baroness’ good side and she’ll totally make you King of Poland in no time at all. Right, future Baroness?"

Galateya made a bothered non-commitment noise from where she sat. She clearly wasn't over the vehicular murder date revelations.

“How exactly did you find the local vampire nest, Stormo?” The dragon girl wondered after a minute.

“Uhh… I took Scrutimancer Linari on a… date to the vampire gravesite museum where Sherlock Holmes gave me a map with specific coordinates,” Piotr explained. “Got lucky, I guess?”

"Got lucky," Galateya repeated flatly. "You just happened to stumble across the exact location of crystalloid vampires that our entire fleet couldn't find?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Piotr squeezed the wheel tighter. “It is a bit sus.”

"And this Sherlock Holmes," Galateya pressed on, "what did he look like?"

"Uh, tall? Deerstalker hat? British accent?” Piotr was clearly struggling. "Look, it sounds weird when I say it out loud—"

"It sounds weird because Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character!" Galateya exploded. "From human literature! He doesn't exist!"

"Maybe he does on this Earth?" Nexxali mused. "Like how the local vampire nest was real? Maybe all the fictional characters are real and hiding really well. Maybe there’s a Secret Baker street somewhere in Garry Cotter London next to Hexagonalley!"

“Now you’re just smooshing two books together,” Galateya sighed.

"Kawthy," I turned to the Datamancer, looking away from the spy-window. "We need to establish some ground rules."

Her feathers ruffled. "Yes, my Liege?"

"First, stop calling me that. It's Ash. Just Ash."

"But you're—"

"A perfectly ordinary guy who inherited a perfectly ordinary mansion. Nothing suspicious," I said firmly. "That's the story, that's what you know, that's what you'll tell anyone who asks. Piotr, Galateya, Nexxali, the Legates. Anyone. Understood?”

“Understood,” Kawathra nodded. 

“Can your mind be scanned by a Wendigo or a Scrut, revealing what you've learned today?”

“They can try,” Kawathra said. “I can split my mind over thirty two ways in less than a microsecond. They won’t get anything out of me, m… Ash. Talented Datamancers are pretty much impossible to scan directly.”

“And if someone like Nexxali orders you to tell what you know?”

“Urm,” the Datamancer swallowed. “That would be a problem. However… She’d have to know exactly what to ask for. I can generally rant about random correlating data in such a case, bury the Charmchainer in complexity of answers to the point when they get bored and give up.”

“Very strategic,” I said. 

“Yep, yep,” she bobbed in one spot. “I’m really good at strategizing!"

“Good stuff.” I nodded.

"Speaking of strategic matters," Kawthy said, pulling up a new spreadsheet titled 'Optimal Outcomes for Data Preservation,' "I have a proposal."

"Yes?"

"If I'm to serve as your intelligence asset, I require... compensation."

"You want me to pay you or something? In what, exposure? I'm not exactly swimming in alien currency here. What is it you aliens use again?”

“O-bux,” the Datamancer revealed. “The Omnid magitek currency. Backed by dragon hoards. I was clever enough to demand Omnid currency for my contract salary. Desperate prads like Linari got screwed pretty badly since they agreed to work for a salary of their local planetary currency that has horrid exchange rates to O-bux. Anyways, I’m not asking for money.”

“So then what?”

"I want... StormoLyx." She stated.

I blinked. "You want… Piotr?"

"As my consort, yes. I've already discussed it with him.”

"Kawthy," I said, "you can't just claim humans like they're spreadsheet variables. If he likes you, then go out with him. If he doesn’t then that’s that. What do you want me to do about it? Surely you want genuine love, not feelings enforced by psychic powers? Like, would you want a consort who’s ordered to love you by Marshal Nexxali?"

“I… I do want genuine appreciation,” Kawathra said. “To start I… simply would like your approval as the Lord of Humanity! A blessing for our relationship to bloom. A pitch of probability bent in my direction.”

“Fine,” I said. “I approve of you trying to date him. Happy?”

The Datamancer let out a small squee.

 "Just one issue. Isn't Linari interested in him too?" I asked.

"She's had a multitude of prior romantic partners," Kawathra said with a hint of bitterness. "I've had zero. Statistically, she doesn't need him as much as I do."

"Need?"

"For psychological grounding," she explained. "Datamancers who die repeatedly without consort anchors have an 87% higher rate of complete ego dissolution. I've already lost pieces of myself. I don't want to lose more."

The Corpse Seeker turned onto the long driveway leading to my house, passing by the large moss-covered boulders. Through Kappa's view screens, I could see my damaged porch and the general disaster area that had become my front yard over the past few days.

“Our planet is full of nice humans, why are you interested in Piotr specifically?” I wondered.

“He likes charts and he gave me the most amazing suggestion to optimize-chart my charts!” 

Welp, I walked right into that one, since it was my suggestion as Piotr’s internal monologue.

"Hrm. What if you shared him?" I suggested.

Kawathra's beak opened and closed several times. "Shared?"

"Pradavarian culture already normalizes non-exclusive relationships, right? You said that Linari's had dozens of partners and your fleet commanders collect entire kobold harems, yes?"

"Yes, but..." she clicked her talons. "Sharing implies cooperation. Scrutimancers and Datamancers don't typically cooperate. We exist in different operational spheres. Linari is a simple ground-sniffer who murders physical things while I'm a processing unit who opposes liminal memetics."

"Maybe it's time to try something different, Miss Anti-memetics Division girl," I shrugged. "This whole invasion has been anything but typical for you, yes?"

She pulled up a new holographic spreadsheet and began calculating. "Joint custody arrangements would require scheduling protocols... resource allocation... clearly defined boundaries..."

"Or," I prompted with a smile, "you could just talk to each other like normal people."

"Devving the likelihood of outcome first. Also, we're not people," she said automatically. "We're tools, military assets of the Frontenachii Colonial—" 

“You’re on my world,” I said. “And you’re my hostage, yes? You must have realized it by now—I don’t use guns. I’ve allowed you to step outside your box. Keep going. Take more steps.”

The Datamancer fell silent, looking contemplative. Then she summoned up more charts.

Through the surveillance projection, Nexxali was boasting to Piotr about the time she'd fought a crystallized vampire thrall with nothing but a spatula and determination.

"—and then the spatula broke, so I had to use a toaster!"

"Marshal," Galateya interrupted with a bothered expression, "none of that explains clearly how you and Ash supposedly defeated forty vampire thralls."

"Oh, that's easy," Nexxali stated. "He used their own weapons against them! Classic human strategy. Very… uhhhh… Piotr quick, name me a wise Earth battle tactician!”

“Sun Tzu.”

“Yes that one. Much tactical. So genius."

"Sun Tzu wrote about fighting vampire thralls when?" Galateya demanded.

"Chapter seven, verse twelve," Nexxali said with feline confidence. "'When fighting the undead, become the undead!'”

“Right,” Piotr laughed. “That kinda fits with the bit about knowing yourself and knowing your enemy."

I was pretty sure Sun Tzu never wrote about the undead, but I appreciated Nexxali's commitment to bullshitting endless circles around the dragon.

"Look," I told Kawthy, "if you want to pursue something with Piotr, that's between you two. And maybe Linari. Figure it out together. I'm not going to play matchmaker for interdimensional romance."

"But you could strongly suggest to local reality that—"

"No."

"Mildly suggest?"

"No."

"Accidentally mention how great I am at spreadsheets while Stormy’s nearby?"

"...Maybe." I conceded.

Her eyes lit up. "I'll take it! Also, I promise on my 57’373’824’923 data archives that I will never reveal your identity as the Emperor without your explicit permission!"

"That's very specific."

"Specific promises are the best promises! They're quantifiable!" She pulled up another spreadsheet. "Would you like to see my loyalty probability matrices? I've color-coded them for your convenience!"

"That's really not—"

"The blue ones represent scenarios where I remain loyal! The red ones are betrayal scenarios, but see how small they are? Less than 0.003%! That's basically a rounding error!"