Parzan looked at what was occuring, listened to the alien sounds of the Princess's speech, and nodded. What was being constructed was recognizable enough, a firing range. He'd seen archers practicing on things of the like when he was younger and still lived in the Capital Districts. The memory sparked a moment of nostalgia, of yearning. Soon enough, he told himself, soon enough. I'll be gone from this hopeless boon dock and back where I ought to be! Granted, the measurements were odd, written with odder numerals, and with some wand that seemed to produce ink on the users whim. Parzan reflected that such a thing would be useful in many situations, for its novelty.
Granted, that had been some rather nice land, promisingly fertile. But if the Gods wanted it for their purposes, it was theirs. The rewards for cooperation anyway would definitely exceed another crop of red beans.