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To compensate, the Vanguard's presence here was now stronger than most other regions, but Morgunov was reasonably sure that they weren't expecting him to show up.

Benefits of being regarded as a madman.

Even if they had spies informing them of his movements, he had enough double agents on his side to run interference. They wouldn't know who to trust--or even if the misinformation being provided was intentional or not.

Psyops were a fun hobby. He was glad he'd gotten into it at such a young age. There weren't many thrills greater than that of swaying an entire country into doing his bidding without realizing it.

Historically, though, that was one of the big reasons why Sair was always such a problem. The Sairi were more difficult to manipulate than most, doubtless because their servant population was also their ruling class. It afforded them a level of cultural rigidity that was virtually unmatched.

Eheh. What a weird little experiment of a country. Even today, he still recalled how surprised he'd been when he heard that a bunch of Rainlords and Sandlords were getting together in order to jointly rule a newly formed nation. No one thought it would last, including him. Maybe even including them.

Yet here it was, two hundred years later.

Morgunov admired the accomplishment.

Wasn't looking too good for them at the moment, of course, but even so, Morgunov had to admit that a small part of him hoped that Sair would survive this whole thing.

Ehehe. If they pulled that off, then they would certainly deserve it.

Ooh, or maybe their little god buddy would rustle up a miracle for them. Wouldn't that be something?

Rasalased, the so-called Dry God, was of course not one of the Primordial gods that Morgunov was chiefly interested in, but he still felt like he would've been a fool to let this opportunity pass him by. Wasn't often that this region of the continent became this unstable. And heck, maybe the ol' Raw Salad would be able to help him capture one of those slippery little buggers.