The united efforts of all mortal nations to fight doomsday and reclaim the wasteland were, of course, an epic undertaking. The successful purification of the ancient kingdom of Gondor, which had fallen seven hundred years ago, would surely leave a glorious page in the history books—countless historians, playwrights, and bards would record and praise it all. But as the leader of an empire, Gawain had to start considering more practical matters at a time like this.
A land broader than any existing empire, reviving and awaiting development and colonization; an energy vent powered by the planet's core; incalculable long-term benefits; ownership issues that could not be untangled—if they did not begin considering these things now, the Alliance Nations, still united at this moment, might descend into chaos tomorrow.
He raised his head and looked at the sensors hanging from the ceiling. Though he knew Ophelia's true body was not these "cameras," and these "cameras" were not her only means of perceiving the outside world, doing so at least gave him the feeling that they were speaking face-to-face. "I was actually worried before that you might not support this decision. After all... this is your territory. You have no reason to follow my arrangements here."
"This is the best arrangement at present," Ophelia said calmly. "I need a place to remain undisturbed, and you need the Alliance's order to remain stable. From a rational standpoint, the Ironclad Legion and this underground base clearly cannot use up the Azure Well's enormous magical power. Such a vast quantity of energy should be used in the right places—whether to rebuild the wasteland or allow the various nations to recover after the war, this energy can be put to use. And throughout this process, the Alliance must have a relatively fair and enforceable 'distribution plan.'