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Crexe.
Corinth is the first archipelago to fall. To surrender.
It is the right decision, Pollux assures her captive princess. The rest of the city state's ruling house, those that resited her invasion, are being strapped to the exterior of the dome. The Lady Trader has little patience for subtlety.
But she does have a taste for luxury, and as she leads her forces through the halls of governance to the palaces beyond she appraises the furnishings with an acquisitive eye. In the ballroom a vase depicting a historic victory in stark orange and black draws her attention for some time, but is ultimately rejected. The curtains are more to her taste, soldiers shoulder their rifles and armed instead with ladders and hooks take the sea-silk down and package it for transport.
The angel is at her side as always, but she invites the majority of her officers to join her in raiding the amasec while the palace fills up with the occupying garrison, and takes particular pleasure in crossing paths with the general soldiery. This part, she explains, will benefit from an audience.
A fire is kindled in the centre of the ballroom floor, and here the rogue trader holds court; of the items brought before her those deemed heretical are consigned to the flames, the rest available for her officers to win, with tales of valour, displays of might or by entertaining her with wit or flattery. She is as generous with the loot as she is with the amasec, though she partakes heavily of both herself.
Her state of merriment is such that when her subordinates decide that she should keep a particularly hideous burgundy hat she obliges them, the hall becoming hushed with mock solemnity as it is ceremonial placed atop her head, to erupt into applause and laughter when it immediately slips down over her eyes. With this proof of the rogue trader's good humour the celebrations become more raucous. Pollux stamps out a beat as the singing and dancing starts, and provides enthusiastic commentary on a fistfight despite lacking the context of how it started.
She takes to the dancefloor swaddled in stolen finery, warm and buzzing from bottles bought as investments and full of food that was prepared that morning for the house's original inhabitants.
All the way through she feels that she has won, and everything from her drunkenly stumbling into the city's historic vase to her echoing laughter as it shatters across the floor projects this to her soldiers.
Corinth has fallen. Crexe will follow.
Victory is assured.
When she wakes she watches soldiers clean up the aftermath of the party, several stooping to pick up shards of the vase while the officers nominally supervising them stared blearily into the middle distance. She looks up to where she knows her guardian angel will be and grins.
"See that? I have dealt a shattering blow to the enemy morale"
"By breaking a vase?" His tone is sceptical, but amused.
Pollux scoffs. "Pssh, anyone can break things, this is different. What I have done is overwritten their history, as what was once a symbol of their military might will be carried off in the pockets of my troops as a reminder of our victory here."
"So you did read my report on the political situation."
Her grin remains just as broad through her feigned offence. "I always read your reports, they are full of useful tactical details." She pulls herself closer, with a gentle laugh. "And of course you say such nice things about me."