After the viewing, Ambrose watched the Mystic Man enter the Queen's chambers for a private audience and reemerge pale and worn. After much deliberation, the Queen had decided to let him in on the secret. She and Ambrose figured that it could only help them to have someone so powerful on their side, but now, he didn't look terribly powerful to Ambrose.

The two men walked silently to the library/laboratory where Ambrose spent most of his time in the Great Palace of Central City. He had a similar room in each of the Queen's homes, with some variations in design, but they were always isolated away in a tower like this one. They were made like that so he wouldn't be disturbed while deep in thought, but it also happened to be an excellent place to plot in secrecy.

When they arrived and huddled next to the fireplace, the Mystic Man finally spoke. "You're going to need more help than I can offer. If this sorceress is as terrible as the Queen says, you'll need an army to stop her."

"We know. Didn't the Queen tell you of our plan?"

The Mystic Man shook his head sadly. "She was too tired; she could barely keep her eyes open. She said to talk with you."

"Large armies are easily swayed and corrupted. What we need is to surround ourselves with a few good men. Loyal men."

"A small enough number that we can get to know them personally, and keep an eye on them."

"Exactly."

"I see, and since I'm the chief of the city's Tin Men, you thought I could find such men for you. How many do you want me to transfer over?"

"None," Ambrose told him, fingers fiddling automatically with the settings of a cybernetic hand he'd been refining. "If they're with us, they'll be under Azkadellia's sway. If they're with you, there's a chance they'll stay uncorrupted."

The Mystic Man mulled over this thought, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he did so. "So… I'll form a… What? A protection detail for myself, maybe?... Then if you ever need help, I'll send you the ones you can trust. Is that it?"

"That's it. Prepare them for the inevitable."

The Mystic Man stood and walked to the window. His thick body silhouetted in the light of the sunset, he whispered, "War." Then he turned back to Ambrose with sudden resolution. "I'll do it. In fact, I have a man or two in mind already." They shook hands. "Good luck, Ambrose. To you, to the Queen, and to our little secret."