“You joking with me, miss? I’ll whoop ya ass.” Zhao replied to Vigdis over comms, making her way to the shuttle bay.
Feng peered out past the boxes.
“No amount of biofoam is going to treat being gored in two by a centaur. I may as well go back inside.” He was joking, but the edge in his voice was evident.
The pristine Tekeri was right, these Sky People evidently didn’t speak S’toric. They spoke faster, with some hissing. They said something close to Silbermine’s own name, and his people, but that was about all he could understand. That could be a problem right now, though not insurmountable. Many refugees from the North spoke in tongues; he’d heard of the work the Inquisitor’s Guild was doing to learn from them.
The imposing Glen took the proffered metal object as delicately as his armour allowed. He stood his ground when Nellara approached him, though his knights sidled closer still. He was confident that he had enough soldiers ready to slay his opponent to stay this Tekeri’s hand.
Silbermine’s gauntleted fist dwarfed the elongated item. He opened fingers back out to gaze down at it while the Castigator’s puffery washed over him. He was enamoured. The craftsglenship was exquisite, especially the faint engraving of a wallbreaker Glen on the side.
“What is this thing?” He asked them, holding the pen up at the same time Nellara spoke some strange language back to the Sky People.
“Are you trying to get us both killed?” Zey hissed, keeping her eyes on the aliens.
"Enemies. Take Jotunheim. Take 'guns'. Not friends." The bird Nellara said.
“Don’t worry birdy, nobody is taking anything except these pens.” She said, motioning for calm.
At the same time, the elk-thing wobbled its new pen at them between two fingers.
“Give me a pen.” Zey said, grabbing one from Ibarra without tearing her eyes away from the aliens in front of her.
Holding it clearly out in front, she pulled the cap off and stuck it on the other end. She then held up her left palm and looking at it, began drawing a classic peace symbol. The ink didn’t come out on her sweaty hand.
“Oh fuck off.”
Zey wiped her palm on Ibarra’s shoulder and tried again. The ink came out and the symbol was complete.
Silbermine took an involuntary step back and looked at the identical thing they’d given to him. By the gods, what sorcery was this? A quill could never produce runes with such ease. What did it mean?
The Glen noble clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, producing a loud
clock sound. Instantly, a servant clopped up. Among all the array of supplies on his back, the youngling carried a small locked chest. Silbermine fished around in the folds of his cheek, and spat out a small key into their hand. The servant used it to unlock the box and open it up. It was full of treasure of all descriptions. Silbermine took another step back to inspect the contents - all the soldiers inched a bit closer.
The Glen pulled out a small gold alloy
currency band, closed the box and locked it, then stowed the key back in his mouth. He lightly threw it to the Sky People - he would have handed it over but Nellara was firmly in his way.
“My thanks to you, Sky People. I look forward to a long and mutually beneficial relationship. We will continue this conversation soon.” He said loudly, then addressed the Castigator.
“I’ve seen all I need to see for now. We will set up camp for the day and rest. My Glen are tired, like your soldiers too.” With that, Silbermine turned and headed back to his entourage, stopping in front of his knights. He spoke very quietly but urgently to them.
“Sir Gwarulch, make haste back to Keraknúr. Find me a Thought mage from the northern passage and bring them here. Sir Wainmoth, take my seal. Raise as many fighting Glen, engineers and labourers as you can, bring them here with supplies for moving the temple.”
Both knights saluted with fists against their chests.
“Yes m’lord.” They immediately peeled off and went to inform their respective retainers to stay put.
That left only Sir Sweven.
“Sir Sweven, let us traverse the hill to find a defensible spot for camp today.”
“My Lord, the Ascendency could be doing the same. If we strike now, we could take the Sky People back to Keraknúr.”
Silbermine thought on it for a second.
“No, that would leave their temple unguarded. The key to our victory at the Running could be inside. We need to communicate with them and show them the sense of allying with Mythadia.”
“Shall I go to Torant and inform the King, then?”
“No, I need you here. At any rate, his spies will do that for us eventually.”
Zey let Ibarra catch the thrown object, and watched as the Glen retired, turning its back on them.
“Let's get out of here - I think that’s enough diplomacy for this morning.” She murmured to the woman next to her, before talking into her comms unit.
“Package delivered, seems the situation is cooling off a little. We’re heading back now - let's give the aliens some space.”
Zey called a staff meeting as soon as they got back inside. Ezra and the droids were still outside, monitoring the aliens who chose to stick around. Wodan watched the now vacated shuttle bay and its hastily erected wall of boxes, all while taking minutes for the meeting.
The Captain sat at the head of the cramped conference room table. She was slouched back in her chair, stroking her chin in thought. Eventually, when everyone had demilitarised and assembled, she spoke.
“So…it seems that not only are we cut off from Earth, we are not alone in this new world. Would anyone like to give me their take on what happened this morning? What do we do next?” Her tone was a kind of forced calm, a tool used to rationalise a completely bewildering situation. They could have been at an AA meeting if the whole place didn't smell like burned wiring.
Once everyone had said their piece, Zey convened the meeting without giving specific orders and quietly retired to her cabin to think.
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