Garnet-Delta blinked as its Master repeated himself, urging the little alien-cat to be aware of its physical limitations. It swallowed the patronizing feeling it felt, accepting the words to its core despite the sting. It had been pushing itself lately, but not to any means that it was wearing thin. It was not as foolish as its predecessor. It nodded anyway.
The silence hung for a moment, but then, the Leviathan began on his long checklist. The mention of a new Hand filled its ears, and both antennae snapped to attention. For a heartbeat, it thought: does she need to be taken care of? Removed? Would the Overseer be capable of assassinating something on the level of Lord Dhracia? Perhaps, if she was still weak from cycles of slumber...
The Overseer couldn't contemplate it for long. The news that Chaos-Two had failed its test left a bitter taste in throat. What of the Zoisite and Labradorite? Khavur? All of them seemed scrambled, less put together than they had been before the move and before
Alpha had left. Garnet-Delta was keenly aware of their lack of numbers; it had taken stock the moment it woke up, and found itself noting the quietness of the nest. The tip of the feline's tail twitched with consideration. The direness of the situation reached its Master, and that made it a priority for the Overseer as well.
But Master Vargas snatched that away from it to return to the first matter. The Valkhand. Its pupils turned to saucers at the mention of its Master's commendation and its body fell still with anticipation.
"It would be my honor, Master Vargas," it answered. It was curious to scope out the Valkhand, this
new Lord, and to impress her. Oh, it would be its
pleasure.
On to the second point (it felt more like the third,) Garnet-Delta was surprised to learned that it had missed out on so much. Master Vargas seemed to implicate that it had been involved with the creation, but the cat-hybrid gave a small shake of its head.
"Though it has remained in the back of my mind, Master Vargas, I would tell you before I attempted to create my own spawn. I have not found anyone that satisfies my requirements thus far. If this Valkhound was impressive enough to think it was related to me, then," the feline's whiskers twitched with humor-- how many creatures of its stone or blood had let the Forge down? Two, three? It kept that jab under its tongue.
"I will assess it privately," the Overseer repeated,
"and offer it training, for the good of the Nest and the Forge. Should it be ill-suited, I can speak to the Hand about replacing it." And, of course, removing it before it could cause harm to the Hand.
Topic three. Their numbers, and the fact that they had been suffering as of late. Though Master Vargas was being verbose, it wasn't difficult to keep track of the knowledge, at least, not for the Overseer. Information fed into the feline like a sponge, lapping up every word like the sweetest cream.
It did not blink at the mention of the other Overseer. The Orthoclase... Was in no state to return. The vacation had done nothing for its health; but Garnet-Delta felt no inclination to tell Master Vargas this. In fact, it kept this knowledge private from its Master. Was it mercy that led it to do so? Weakness? Or was it something else? The Overseer-- the one that was here, present, and actually important-- did not linger on this thought. They needed quality creations, and unfortunately, the latest batch seemed...
Oh? Master Vargas was actually seeing the truth of the matter. Its Master had offered positive reinforcement instead of leading by fear and punishment, and what good had come of it? The Forge had been weakened by this mercy. Its nose crinkled at its Master's description of Chaos-Two, who had been given opportunities well beyond what it would have been given eons ago.
Will he make an example of it...? Garnet-Delta wondered, flexing its claws into the stone.
As an aside, its Master asked about a name. (Oh?) And about if it had made or found an apprentice.
".. I have not. I have been making other progress, however," the Overseer responded, and let its Master continue.
Three tasks.
Aethril-- it almost missed this name. One task, already completed, but it moved past that fact with a coldness in its chest.
"I understand," it said instead. Master Vargas asked it for questions, and then for opinions, and
this was where the Overseer rose to its feet once more, tail raising with a flick into the air.
This time, when it sought to claw into its Master's heart, to judge his feelings on the situation as it spoke, the daggers dug in deep. Crimson eyes met vibrant green, opposite and yet complimentary. For a moment, it soaked in its Master's emotions and spoke clearly.
"Master Vargas, I believe that they are lacking motivation," it declared simply.
"Or, perhaps clinging to the wrong motivations. I believe that the lack of punishment is hampering our progress. You tell them that they will be safe, treated fairly, but it is only natural for misdeeds to have a consequence. Without, they fear retribution that does not come, and it... I suspect it drives them mad, waiting for you to lash out. They are aware of the Old Ways, and fear their return. It would be productive for them to have... clear, concise punishments laid out. If there is a mistake made, allow them punishment so they may clear their conscious, move on, and have reason to behave properly in the future."
Oh, Garnet-Delta was being kind to them, truly. If it was up to it, it would gleefully take back the old ways. After all, they had shaped its Master from Overseer to his new position, and how could Garnet-Delta not be keen on them?
"I find myself frustrated," it lowered its head to admit,
"when I work hard, and my fellow companions slack off, with no penalty. Why, I can understand why they do not try. What motivation have we given them, Master?" It prodded, speaking bluntly. This was not criticism, though; its Master was right to try a new way of teaching and raising new spawn. They had learned much from it, and he had raised Garnet-Delta with great success, but it didn't work on creatures who were not predispositioned to succeed for the satisfaction of greatness.
"Secondly," the Overseer added,
"I believe that competition could, potentially, give them a motivation. They would need goals to achieve, goals that perhaps only one or two could reach. Of course, we would have to discourage sabotage, but... Having clearly laid out punishments for harming another outside of declared spars would be enough, I think."
Now, it was spitballing.
"Rather than offering rewards for individual progress, we could seek progress for the Forge as a whole. Rewards, and acknowledgement, given to those that separate themselves from the rest." It had sought to become Overseer all its life, despite the overwhelming sense that it couldn't become like Vargas or the Orthoclase-- and wasn't it a failing, that it had felt that way?
"The first to recruit a new member that proved itself, could be given a title," it suggested.
"Or a name. The younger ones seem keen on names."
It tilted its head, looking thoughtfully off into the distance.
"I care not if I have a name," the Overseer said,
"but if it would inspire them, I can decide on one now."
