Narval twisted his rings, first in one direction then opposite. Lowering his eyes to his hands, he paused often between words, choosing them with care.
"Here in the Outer Region, the separate nations are convulsed by internal struggles for power both internal to their sovereignty and within the family of independent satellites that orbit their host planet. Their political philosophies are diverse, lack cohesion, and have powerful advocates or opponents, some openly, others covert. The Heads of State are insecure and fear political coups. Rapid changes in leadership cannot be ruled out."
Drummer watched Narval eyes caress his entwined fingers.
"If new leaders arise and take over the reins of power from incumbents, so much the better for me. New governments will need time to become entrenched, create lines of authority and accountability, and install bureaucracies responsive to the wishes of a new elite. I repeat, confusion in the ranks, within other governments, is to my advantage."
"Can you count on such events materializing?"
"Of course not."
Narval wagged a finger at Drummer.
"But the uncertainty within regimes that these disruptions can, and may occur, dissipates and weakens their energies. If they fear enemies from within, and suspect enemies from outside, then they are diseased and warrant being replaced by a daring and skillful master."
"Who might that be?"
"Me."