Let's have a brief chat about Vika, King Eligos, just you and I. She is a Revenant, an ancestor alive well past her prime. To be a Revenant is to be junk; it is to be weak, to be fragile, to be disempowered. It is to be denied the mighty armor that her descendants wear to make themselves swifter, more agile, more safe; it is to be denied their mighty weapons that change the rules of war.

But it is also to receive a dark inheritance. Vika's systems internalize prototypes made by her vile fathers much more easily than any hero can, gaining far more benefit from accepting the Faustian bargains they offer from their "very safe" labs.

She has come to a high place past the mine to meet you, O King Treason, lord of the waerloch and the quisling, and she has come bearing gifts. A sample of the snow in which César's corpse stood, a frozen chunk of the star-things she's been hunting from the rooftops, and her "original" arm, so recently replaced, but which was taken from her prey and in turn made, too, by her fathers as part of weapons of war.

These she sets on a flat stone, brushed clean of snow, before she says in a flat voice: "Eligos. By the hate in me and the filthy taint of my fathers' hands, I seek audience with the king of the worthless and the wretched. I have an offer that may be of interest."