"That is one problem, yes. For most species, chronic stress reduces lifespan and general health. Some are usually invigorated, though."

"I want to say that Aeldari are one the species that gets invigorated, but I know a lot of people who would disagree with me, so."

"It varies with individuals too, yeah. I do well under stress, so does my sister, but I know some people who really, really don't."

"Which is probably another thing societies need to balance out. Make it so the people who don't do well under stress don't have to be, and so the people who do can if they want to be."

"It's hard to do, but yeah, that's important."

"I think all the important things are like, super hard."

"They are! Which is probably why people aren't doing them as much."

"Well, we can see about fixing that."

"That'll be nice."

They travel to Iyanden. From space, it looks somewhat like Ulthwé. A much more broken Ulthwé. Large sections have been knocked off, holes hastily patched, an deep scars run down it. The damage only becomes more obvious as they get closer.

They land in a shuttle bay. It's dark. Quiet, except for the thrumming of the ship.

As they disembark, a wraith construct is waiting for them. It looks like an articulated statue, standing on thin jointed limbs, watching them with a featureless face. It cocks it's head at them.

She'll follow Zerri's lead here, though she looks around with an intense curiosity.

The construct reminds her more of a warforged than a classic undead, really.

It gestures for them to follow it, and walks off it.

It leads them through a series of  strangely silent and empty corridors, until it reaches what appears to be an office. The door is closed, and shouting can be heard behind it.

"I could do this if I had the manpower!" a man shouts.

"No," replies a woman. "you couldn't do it. You'd just fritter their souls away. And I cannot agree to it." 

"That's... that's Yriel and Iyanna," Zerri says.

"Interesting. Do you know what they're arguing about?" she asks quietly.

"Knowing them, Yriel wants more manpower and probably some wraiths--" She nods in the direction of the wraithguard that lead them here "for an attack against Chaos that has, hmm, a low chance of success. Iyanna, being in charge of the wraiths and generally more cautious, is disagreeing with this plan."

The yelling continues. Iyanna sounds calmer-- much calmer-- than Yriel.

She pays attention to some of the yelling, then, much more quietly, "Do you think I'd tip the balance, and that offering my help would get us anywhere?"

The argument is very circular.

"Offering help would get us somewhere. It'd affect the balance, but I don't know which way it would. Probably in favour of Iyanna, she's the one most interested in Iyanden's long term future. But Yriel only acts the way he does because he thinks Iyanden doesn't have a long term future. So."

"I'm willing to help, but you know the local political and military situation better than me."

"I like Yriel as a person more, but Iyanna is probably better for Iyanden overall. Getting resurrection for them will be worth it, even if there is some political instability."

Nod. "How much should I talk, when we're in front of them?"

"Polite, but not deferential. We have something they want, they might have something we want, we're informing them of this fact."

"Alright. That's an easy enough tone, I suppose."

"Yeah. Do we want to head in now?"

"I'm alright with that."

The wraithguard notices them coming to a decision, and opens the door.

There's a tall, blonde Aeldari woman, wearing ornate robes, sitting at a desk. Iyanna, presumably. "Hello?" she asks.

In front of her desk, there's presumably-Yriel. He's dark haired and dark eyed-- and tired looked. Drained. He has a spear on his back that seems subtly off.

She inclines her head. "Hello. I recently arrived with Captain Merrydirk, we'd hoped for an audience?"