"Perhaps, perhaps not," crooned a voice that seemed to cut through the chattering cacophony from somewhere far above. Hacking and coughing, the mysterious veiled ruler of the Stormlings, as they were known, lay on her palanquin far above. It were as if she never left the senate hall. Her unmoving guards stood grimly to attention, unknowable under their all-encompassing, stark white armour. "What matters is that we are assailed."