Stone tiles on a naval flagship, how pompous. I mean really, who do these dendracks think they are?

My name is Gremm, Ambassador of the Ovidian Union. As the representative of an unassuming,

previously ignored race, no one had rolled out a carpet which meant my hooves were killing me.

But that wasn't the main concern right now. Each door I passed was as ornate and overbearing as the last,

with their carvings depicting stylized scenes of past dendrack military victories.

One thousand three, one thousand four, one thousand five. Finally.

An unpleasant jarring doorbell chimed as I pressed the button announcing my arrival.

A moment later the doors lid opened, granting entry to the suite of rooms within.

Stepping through the entryway and into the office within, I was greeted by the tear and ambassador seated behind his desk.

He held a small device, its green flashing with bright colors and moving shapes.

The human's thumbs mashed repeatedly at the buttons on the gadget's sides, the vigor of the movements causing it to jerk from side to side, as the man stared at it with intense concentration.

You're not playing that game again, Peter. Come on, Grant, don't you ever relax.

Ovidians prefer slightly more challenging entertainment. Your video games don't interest us.

Come on, come on, oh you son of a-

Alright, I'm done. So, uh, hit me with it. Good news or great news? Good or great?

I just got word. The Emperor demands your presence.

Now let me check my schedule. Yeah, nothing I can fit him in.

I hope you have a plan, Peter. You humans have been encroaching unden-drag trade for quite a while now,

undercutting their prices, stealing their customers, putting the quality of their goods to shame.

It was just a matter of time until they fought back. This could all go very badly for your people, and by extension, mine.

Nothing our insurance won't cover.

Insurance doesn't cover acts of genocide inflicted by power-crazed despots.

...