"If Emperor decides. But replaced, not leave," Bomilcar replies. "Always send more. Empire'd probably collapse without spice." It was an unpleasant truth from either side of the divide.

"Complete mission, go home. Unless given orders. Then... politics will happen. Probably cost people positions or lives," Bomilcar replies. "May be messy. May give opportunities for fremen. Not good at that stuff."

"Education," Buzmali replied. "Still like child learning desert," he admits. "Maybe worse. Must improve. Confidence isn't capability."

An apocryphal story may as well be a true story when applied to the realities of the world. Undoubtedly many had been exposed to such storms and adversities over so much history. Uncountable many. Who knows how many survived, even if most died. The danger is real and the resilience of those that liv...

I fucked up, he thinks to himself. This was higher level introspection than he ever really did. His brain didn't function so well at this level. So it felt like now or never to him in this moment. If he couldn't at least be conversational at this level he'd never be able to be diplomatic among the ...

For Bomilcare, it's all about understanding, bridging a gap, creating a path between Thorvald and Fremen. He was already looking at ways to smuggle water, at building something on Arrakis, trying to become the link between his home and family with this place of unimaginable importance in the univers...

Bom nods, accepting them, thinking about it and then speaks an observation wondering if he's beginning to understand some more basic Fremen principles. "To protect water. More for tribe. When I don't need anymore," he says, his voice feeling a little raw by this point, but he doesn't let that stop h...

After watching Korba leave him with the naib, Bomilcar cleared his throat with a twitch from the corner of his mouth. He had been speaking a lot. He knew he'd have to in this situation, and it hurt. He could feel a bit of wetness draining in his through from some minor bleeding but it's definitely n...

Strength was really his catch all for such things, because it used a single syllable. So he just nodded. "Eat meat mostly? Keep herds?" he hadn't seen any sign of such, but if they had so many people as he guessed from the size of the sietch, they couldn't survive on hunting the tiny animals of the ...

Bom followed along, quiet and respectful of the space. His eyes watched those spots where a surprise attack would be most effective from.

The blade was tucked away.

"Differences. Thorvald more open," he says with a shrug. They are competitive and militant, so flashing steel and showing off was common among his fellow warriors. Just another difference in cultures.

"Naib," he agrees with a nod.

"True," he says. It wasn't confirmation of his thought but it was suggestive of his feeling. They had some means of harvesting water from a corpse. It made sense with talk of keeping water as part of the sietch.

"Water limits size of sietch. Getting person's water is future strength."

"So... means of draining water from corpse. Like stillsuit, or sietch," he says. "Drinking too much blood makes sick."

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He didn't know anything about crysknives. None had ever mentioned them, despite the fact that more than a few probably considered using theirs on him. But the point is that he doesn't know what one is, so context. It was a knife presumably. And it would be expected of someone swearing themselves to ...

"Up in flames maybe," he says, noting that it wouldn't be the first time they did something like that. "Need act soon."

"Liet guides to that goal," he says, giving a nod. He may not know what Liet is, but from the context it was a guide of some sort. Whether a leader or a belief.

"If I... offered water to Liet?" he said, placing a hand on his chest, indicating he meant his own water and not water in general.

"Decision for us too then," he replies. He looks at Korba, his smirk fading. "Expectations. Unspoken." He didn't know how to explain it in words because he was bad at them. But he suspected that the Fremen did not truly comprehend the politics and what could happen here. How they might move forward ...

"So run instead?" Bomilcar replies, with a smirk. He was careful not to break the territorial line, finding a spot with a wall he can put his back to for the conversation.

Bomilcar had been piecing as much together as he could with his mind. He was trained to look at things as threats. But now he needed to see something else. The Fremen were potential allies in this, but the responses he'd gotten in regards to freedom from overseers varied from confidence in self, wil...

As someone that didn't know anything about riding worms or how to interact with them, there had been only doubt for Bom. "Don't know how..." he says, indicating that there had been plenty for him.

Bomilcar, now that focus wasn't necessary, turned to Ahmina. "Glad you're alive."

Bom nodded his agreement. "Very busy there."

Bom was with her. He would have suggested rest, but he was pushing himself too.

"Yes," Bom agreed. "Appreciated."

"Must connect Harkonnen. And Harkonnen to Verdun right?" he asks. A massive order.