"Goooood grief. I don't exactly think holding the Empire to blame for an action of a random citizen is, diplomatically speaking, particularly reasonable, but if that's how it is, I suppose that's how it is. Especially if they make the people who run those fleets Imperial functionaries; that's just asking for trouble. Really, I'm getting the impression that the Empire is several smaller nations in a trenchcoat, pretending to be a united polity. I wouldn't want to leap to a hasty judgement, though; what I'm gathering of orc psychology suggests that you're hardly a monolith of coordinated collective action to the public benefit either, even if you've got less individuals doing random shit for unknown reasons. And y'all do pirate, so far as I'm concerned, though I suppose it's more like privateering doing it with governmental sanction as you do."
"...Giving the Plateau something else to amplify, I can do, and if the Druj want to object to what I'll replace it with, well, they can register their objections in person, on-site."
She permits herself a tight grin, her expression fierce, before blinking, shaking her head, and sighing.
"I should not be excited about the prospect of that happening. Damn aura. ...Well, it's probably not the aura, but still. It's not - good, to look forward to violence. Even when you're pretty sure that everyone will come out fine, or even better off than they started, in the end. It's just not right. But I suppose I can hardly stop liking the idea of damn well dragging some very nasty people into the metaphorical Century of the Fruitbat, no matter their kicking and screaming. ...Don't worry about that, it's a literary reference."
"Thank you! See you around, Steward Rurikson; it's been a pleasure."
She hangs up.
(She also sets a reminder.)