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There is much to despise in Byzantium, especially for a Mexihcatl. Though you don't deny the empire's many scientific and artistic accomplishments, you don't spare your descriptions of the Empress's greed, her court's corruption, the brutal wars of conquest centuries ago against Europa, and the more recent attacks against Asia, Africa, and the Greater West, and the arrogant complacency of so many of Byzantium's citizens, who enjoy special prerogatives over people from client states. You take a few swipes at Prince Zeno, too, and everyone likes him after he stopped the mad queen of the north.

Keimia and Vecla seem more fascinated than disappointed by your descriptions, but when you touch upon the excesses of the temples, Stralchus at last leaps to his feet.

"Don't listen to a Mexihcatl!" he shouts in Koiné, jabbing a finger at you. "A few border disputes and every Mexihcatl thinks Byzantium is an enemy of their blood!"

You would not describe Byzantium's bloody, protracted, and ultimately failed attempts to conquer Mexihco as "border disputes," but before you can decide how to respond, the controllers rise as one.

"Calm yourself," one tells Stralchus.

The mystic seems ready to argue, then realizes that he is, by definition, outnumbered by Control. Keimia chuckles as Stralchus stalks off toward the boats, muttering angrily under his breath about "girl robots" as if they have been a burden to him all his life.

The journey upriver seems endless. Though you have plenty of supplies, bolstered by the fishing and bowhunting skills of Keimia's warriors, the sheer scope of the nameless jungle starts to oppress you.

You picture cities and towers and statues, fixing the grandeur of your world in your mind, convincing yourself that the Apostolic Mound can find some way to effect your escape from this beautiful but savage land.

You're drowsing in your boat after a turn on the oars when Keimia's shout awakens you. The other boat is close, the warriors in it worriedly watching the trees in this narrow and fast-moving stretch of river, where you've had to fight for every yard traveled. You're moving slow, but something in the shadows of the twilight trees is moving fast.

You listen to Keimia speaking with her warriors. Whatever is coming is the same sort of thing that killed her huntress before you left. As Stralchus unhurriedly reaches for his rifle, eyes scanning the branches that droop here all the way into the water, you finally understand what Keimia is calling your pursuers.

The feathered apes. The feathered apes are coming.

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