56th day of the 10230th year since the passing of Kriene
Venedir could not help but make little groans and sounds of effort as he made breakfast for the drift.
It seemed to him that every muscle in his body was aching and the tiniest of movements had the power to excite the pain.
It was a good kind of pain, to be sure.
But carrying it about with his tending duties was inconvenient.
The only consolation Venedir had was that all his driftfellows – including the demon – were in a much worse condition than he was.
So the responsibility fell to him.
While he liked his tending duties, it was really a bad time to take up the entirety of the tasks.
He kept the meal simple – sandwiches, cereal, milk and juice.
He thought back to dinner the day before.
All he had felt was exhaustion after around twelve hours of gruelling training.
Alaric was a tough training master but he knew his stuff well, to the point of perfection.
Which meant that Venedir had to get used to accepting criticisms at a much higher frequency than he was used to.
It was no surprise – especially considering how long it had been since he had largely given up on fighting -, but it still hit hard how much he was lacking in different areas.
With what had happened so far, he was finding himself warming himself back up towards fighting.
Maybe it was the absence of fighting oneself bloody for sport and meaningless trophies.
If the challenge that lay ahead was in fighting those murderers, Venedir was sure that he wanted to be in top form for it.
Fighting for a purpose – maybe that was what he had been missing for all of these years.
He never knew the ugliness of what was out there, only the beauty.
Maybe he needed to be sheltered from it as a child, he could say for sure.
But the ugliness was important to know what they were doing this for.
Having known Linny, the prison break – even with all its complications – had been worth it, perhaps even if he would not have received a single coin for it.
His thoughts returned as his driftfellows started arriving at the dining table, albeit at a snail’s pace.
He started setting the food on the table and then sat down himself.
Seeing the drift together at the small dining table with their chairs all bunched up together, Venedir felt warm and grateful.
He could imagine the appeal of a larger drift, with more people to feel this kinship towards.
A conversation he had with Sylviane the day before they arrived at Quinlac came to mind.
If their drift had been larger, he would perhaps have had to be more accommodating and flexible.
It was not to say to neglect one’s character when socialising with them and forming bonds, but rather to be more open and understanding when getting to know them.
Venedir wasn’t sure if he had been so in his past interactions.
When they were done with breakfast, all of them pretty much collapsed in the living room.
Venedir – who was the designated fetcher for the day – got a few books and distributed them amongst his driftfellows to keep them from getting bored.
While he was at it, he also parted the curtains to let Wairo’s gentle light grace them and ease the strain of their reading.
The books that Venedir had given out were merely those available at the villa, and most of them were Faring classics – not in the sense that they talked about farers, but in that they were very popular amongst them: because of their themes, philosophies, among other characteristics.
As a result, there was nearly an equal split between discussion and reading that went on for the next few hours.
Venedir was at the point of becoming so used to the ache that he was about to offer to make them all some snacks when the bell rang.
Venedir suspired and pushed himself off the sofa.
It was not likely that it would be Alaric, or any of their companions in general.
His guess was correct.
It was Alicia.
“Hey.” she said with a smile.
Venedir was a bit slow to reply.
“Hey.” he said and then remembering himself, opened the door completely and stepped back.
“Come in, please.”
He led her to the drift.
“I guess our number’s up, people.” he told them before gesturing to Alicia to sit.
“What?” she asked, a bit confused.
Venedir smiled a little and shook his head.
“It’s nothing.
An inside thing.” he said as he sat down as well.
His driftfellows were starting to sit and straighten in Alicia’s presence.
“Well, what can we do for you, Alicia?” said Finley.
Alicia fidgeted a little.
“It’s… complicated.” Venedir sighed internally.
Of course the thing occupying them till the Buried Man would be complicated.
“Just… bear with me on this, okay?” Alicia said earnestly.
“It will sound very weird and far-fetched, but it’s not.”
“We’ll believe you, Alicia.
Just speak whatever’s on your mind plainly.” Sylviane reassured her.
Alicia took a deep breath.
“Well, you know of the murders that happened on the night of the party, right?
The victims were government officials, and they were not the only ones in the town.
They were part of a group of fifteen who got shipwrecked near the town – dragon attack, they say.”
“Dragons?” asked Finley doubtfully.
“There aren’t supposed to be any in these parts.”
Alicia shrugged a little.
“I don’t know how it happened, but damage to their ship is consistent with a dragon attack, that much I can tell you.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a pretty close interaction with them for someone who’s so skeptical of the government.” said Gwenyth,
“Skepticism is not hatred.
And the government is nothing but people.
And these are people who are in grave trouble.
They need your help.
They need passage to-” The Buried Man he completed in his head.
“the Buried Man.
And they’re willing to pay for it as well.”
“How much?” blurted out Zander, and though Venedir was curious as well, he felt that Zander’s question had been too abrupt, too eager.
Alicia did not seem to mind it, luckily.
“Hundred and fifty thousand coins per life saved.” hearing which Zander’s expression seemed to light up.
“But we don’t have space for thirteen people.” said Sylviane.
“It’s hardly sufficient for us seven.”
“You won’t need to take all of them, of course!” said Alicia.
“My driftfellows are in the process of reaching out to two other drifts for this task.
If all three of yous’ drifts agree, the Serendipity will only need to deliver two or three officials.”
“Great, that is doable, I think.” said Callie in a hopeful tone, though Zander looked almost crestfallen at the forgone fees.
“But what about the murderers?” said Venedir.
Alicia sighed loudly.
“That is a separate issue altogether.” She paused for a few seconds as if to frame her thoughts.
No one interrupted the process, though looks were exchanged.
“Are you all aware of what unnaturals are?” she asked and Venedir could feel a sinking feeling in his torso.
Oh shit.
There was a slow movement of heads to signal their knowledge of them.
Unnaturals were surely not akin to dragons in their level of danger, but they were not so tame either.
They could literally be engineered for almost any purpose and if there were unnaturals built for the purpose of violence and murder…
“Are there unnaturals here?
Did they commit those murders?” Finley asked.
“Yes they did.” Alicia said in a resigned tone.
“Do we know why?
Aren’t the unnaturals supposed to be under the control of the government?
And what are the unnaturals even doing out of Lament?” said Callie
“All great questions.
But unfortunately, I don’t know.
The officials say that they don’t know anything either, but I am not too sure of it.
Regardless of what they know, their lives are in danger,”
“Do they know how many unnaturals are there?” questioned Finley.
Alicia shrugged.
” ‘There shouldn’t be too many’ is what they said.
But again, it’s too vague even if you were to take their words at face value, which is inadvisable.”
“So, facing an unknown number of unnaturals to protect officials who are part of an institution which doesn’t seem to have our best interests at heart, and who themselves might be withholding information from us?” said Gwenyth.
“Doesn’t sound too lucrative of a deal to me.”
“Even the money’s not that great.” said Zander gloomily.
“Realistically, it can’t be more than a dozen of them right?” said Callie.
“Realistically?
We have no idea what is realistic!
There weren’t supposed to be any unnaturals outside of Lament!
Let alone rogue ones!” said Venedir.
Sylviane nodded.
“We don’t even have an idea of the unnaturals’ capabilities.
And the officials aren’t likely to be knowledgeable or forthcoming enough.”
“It doesn’t mean that we give up on saving them.” said Linny quietly.
“We can always press them for more information.
If we are to give up on them, it should not be right now, at least.”
This was acceptable to the drift and they decided that they would go with Alicia to the villa where the Rum Baxters – and the government officials since the murder – were putting up.
It was not a long walk to the Rum Baxters’, but it felt like one.
Thoughts were running around in Venedir’s head and he felt restless – but there was nothing to do to ease it.
It was a consolation that the unnaturals weren’t after them at all, but even that was sullied when he realised that they would end up taking this assignment and making themselves a big target for them.
While he himself did not feel certain about it, Alaric had seemed so.
And with that certainty of clairvoyance – or at least the knowledge of someone much more learned and experienced – came the subtle pressures and influences for conforming to the foreseen.
It was so hard to be objective once coloured by that lens.
Listening to the prediction itself impacted the chances of its realisation.
It was hard for him to think straight and he hoped that the others could be counted upon to make the correct judgement of the situation.
The Rum Baxters’ villa was naturally spread over a wider stretch of land as compared to the Serendipity’s.
It had more than a dozen rooms which they could not get an individual tour of, though Zander felt to be at the point of asking Alicia even that.
They were taken to one of the living rooms towards the end of their tour. New chapters come out on g.com first.
Sitting there were a couple of Rum Baxters’ that Venedir knew by face if not by name as well.
Apart from the drifters, there were also a couple of older people Venedir did not recognise at all.
They were the officials, he surmised.
They all had been in conversation which had quietened into a pin drop silence as the Serendipity entered and one of the government officials and both of the Rum Baxters left as they took a seat, all seven of them on a single broad couch.
Gwenyth spoke after a few seconds of silence.
“Can we start asking our questions?”
“No, not yet.” said the official.
“We are waiting for my colleagues to arrive.” His tone was formal and measured.
“Meanwhile, I’ll introduce myself.
I am Gallin Derntin, born and brought up in the hundred-and-twelfth.
I used to work for an investing company before I joined the government where I’ve been working in treasury management and budget related roles for close to seven decades now.
There is no need for your introduction.
Alicia has already told us about you all.”
“So she has, more than we had known.” said a new voice.
Six heads – including Venedir’s – snapped up almost in synchronization upon hearing that voice.
Mr.
Corroway entered behind the official who had left a couple minutes back.
His hair seemed slightly more grey – or maybe it was Venedir’s imagination.
“I am old, as you know.
But not so old to forget the number of people in a drift I gave an assignment to not two weeks ago.” He said and Zander started.
“We-”
Mr.
Corroway waved his hand dismissively.
“It is not my business.
At least, it does not have to be should you help secure safe passage for us till the Buried Man.”
“We’re not sure we will help you, we can’t be until you are more frank with us.” Callie said flatly.
“So skeptical of the government’s employees at such a tender age.
Your cynical influence works quickly, Pilnay.” said Gallin.
Alicia smiled and shrugged a little.
“I only ever tell the truth.
I will leave you be now.
I hope the outcome of your conversation is fruitful.” she said and left them, closing the door behind her, which shut with an audible click.
Callie was the first to break the silence.
“I am sorry for the two people you lost.
Mr.
Corroway, were you related to Marini?” The official’s jaw clenched and he nodded a little.
“My sister.” His usual easy tone was disturbed and rough, full of emotion at the mere mention of her.
It was still fresh… and very painful, Venedir imagined.
“Anyway.” he said, but could not say further.
The strength it would have taken to say ‘Anyway’ after such a loss.
“Your questions, speak them.” said Gallin.
“Why are the unnaturals after you?” said Finley.
“Unnaturals don’t operate of their volition – thank the gods the don’t have that capability yet – so our best guess is that they have been set on us by some enemy, especially since defects of this magnitude are impossible.” said the third official, who Venedir realised had not bothered introducing herself.
“This enemy, they would be part of the government as well?” said Sylviane.
“Most likely, could not be also.
There is no way of knowing.” she answered.
“What do they want from you?” Finley asked.
“Apart from our lives, you mean?” said Mr.
Corroway bitterly.
“We don’t know.” the woman said hastily.
“We have no significant valuables or state secrets.” added Gallin.
“You don’t?” said Venedir, and Zander then said what Venedir was too tactful to not say.
“Then how will you pay us?” Finley and Callie shot visible looks at Zander which were ignored.
“Not that the amount due to you would be counted as significantly valuable in this case, we don’t have even that amount on our person and you will get that money from Jalakide’s treasury when we will arrive at the city.
Since you all seem to have such an affinity for vacationing – that too on your second week of duty -, I’m sure a small detour to the city and a stay in the government quarters within the fortress won’t be so abhorrent a prospect.” she said with poisoned sweetness, not that they were wholly undeserving of it.
“What’s our guarantee?” said Gwenyth relatively tonelessly.
“A government bond to the tune of the specified amount depending on the number of officials you take with you.” said the woman.
“And we guarantee that your seventh driftfellow – whoever he is – will remain unprosecuted and no probing will take place from our institution’s side, especially while he is in Jalakide’s premises.” Mr.
Corroway had recovered enough to be seamlessly charming in words, though his countenance and body language left something to be desired.
“There remains but one question then.” said Zander.
“Which is?” asked Gallin.
“How many unnaturals are we looking at?” he replied.
“I don’t know.” said Gallin flatly.
“You won’t have our help if you’re not honest.
It’ll only help you.
If it’s a crazy number like a hundred, we’ll anyways die even before getting you to our ship.”
“It’s not a hundred.” the woman blurted out.
“Faera!” Gallin exclaimed with anger and frustration.
“How many then?” Gwenyth pressed despite Gallin’s outburst.
Faera spoke over Gallin.
“Definitely not more than thirty.”
“Come on!
You can do better!
We can’t even take thirty, obviously.” Gwenyth continued to press insistently, her voice growing louder.
“Faera!” Gallin was shouting then.
“I-I’m not sure…” Faera was sounding a little distressed, her breathing was uneven.
“Faera!” Gallin’s voice was growing more dangerous.
“Faera, come on!!
We’re trying to help you!” Gwenyth was yelling too by then.
“NOT MORE THAN NINE!!!” she yelled and everyone fell silent and was still.
“Most probably.” she added in a small voice after.
“FAERA, is THIS how you do your duty?” Gallin had found enough wherewithal to yell at her again, spittle ejecting like projectiles from his mouth.
“Enough, Gallin.
It’s done now.” Mr.
Corroway said, not too loudly but firmly; and then turned to the drift.
“Any other questions?” he asked in a voice that did not provoke any.
Seven heads shook and two ‘No’s were heard from Gwenyth and Callie respectively.
“Leave us then.” he said and the drift all but scurried out in single file.
Alicia was talking to someone – a green haired man – down the corridor and they quickly went up to her.
“I was able to get the number of unnaturals out of them.” Gwenyth said with a bit of a triumphant smile.
“And distressed that poor woman while you were at it.” added Callie.
“But the assignment is doable.” she continued.
“It’s less than ten unnaturals.”
“That’s not less.” the man Alicia had been talking to said.
“Yes, but it’s not unmanageable, especially with three drifts.”
“Two.” the man and Alicia spoke together.
“Who said no?” asked Zander.
“The drift from Eventide.
They say they were not supposed to be Apricity in the first place and just came here to relax.
They don’t want to endanger the lives of their driftfellows.
Theirs is a valid concern, to be sure.
I cannot blame them.
They have a child and a pregnant lady in the drift.”
“So children can still be a part of a drift?” asked Venedir with a smile.
“Of course.
Despite the Faring and the government’s best efforts to discourage it and uphold Faring schools as the epitome of holistic upbringing.” the man said dryly.
“We should be fine even with two drifts.
But are they confirmed to be helping us in this or are still deliberating?
And which drift is this?
Anyone we’d know?”
“It’s the Windriders.
Young bunch.
Your three drifts turned out to be the only ones passing through town.
The rest are old-timers like me who are more… long term vacationers, with children on board.
We would have mobilised them, and our own drift – but you can understand why we had to ask you first.”
Gwenyth grinned a little.
“I guess there are consequences to not being parents at eighteen.
But killing some machines should be fair recompense.
Just try that we don’t get Gallin.
He really is a piece of work.”
“You are too kind.” replied Alicia with a smile.
“He has a controlling, egregious personality.
He has a few nuts loose up there and unfortunately has not fallen victim to senility yet.
We’ll try to get you more manageable people.”
“I wouldn’t mind Mr.
Corroway, for one.” said Finley with a smile.
“Nor Faera.” Sylviane added.
* * *
Lunch at Rum Baxters’ villa was akin to a feast. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Considering the fact that there were six tenders – one of whom was Venedir himself – cooking for around sixty people, the arrangement was very elaborate and – dare he say it – grand.
They could not combine so many tables so as to seat all the three drifts and the officials at one table.
And so they ate separately, Venedir naturally sitting with his drift at one of the tables.
His plate was filled to the brim – quite comically so – with poultry meats.
Sylviane shot his plate a look and then him.
A bit of colour rushed to his face and he looked down at his plate, concentrating on eating his food.
“This is so good.” Linny exclaimed.
“Better than what you make, Venedir.” he teased.
Venedir grunted.
“I helped in making this too.
And if you’d like better meals, you know where the kitchen is.
If your main course cooking abilities are anything like your cake making skills, then I would happily have you as Tender.” Linny grinned widely and said “I am more than happy to try.
I would make wonderful desserts and fritters and sauces everyday.”
“We’d end up dead in thirty days with the kind of food you’d make.
Though it would be a glorious four weeks.” said Finley dreamily.
“Not I.” Linny said gleefully and his voice lowered drastically as he spoke, though with no less joy and cheer.
“My metabolism is much more suited to handle sugars, salts and oils.”
“Bully for you.” said Callie dryly and threw a piece of meat at him, which hit his nose and fell right into his plate.
Venedir smiled a little.
“We’ll still get some cooking done from you, my protégé, teach you the ways of the less robust metabolisms.”
Linny grinned and inclined his head towards him.
“I can only eagerly await your tutelage.”
When lunch was done with, all of the current occupants – transients and inhabitants – congregated in the largest living room they had – which was not large enough, and several people were standing.
Venedir was one of them, leaning against a wall in between Zander and Callie.
This gathering was held with the purpose of planning their strategy for extracting the officials out of Quinlac with no casualties on their end.
It really was chaos.
Their drift mostly stayed quiet, akin to wallflowers.
Despite making sure to stand as far as possible from the officials, Gallin’s irritating voice managed to grate at him with superb effectiveness.
The conversation flew quite erratically and shot off into several tangents.
But there was a vague structure to it.
Firstly, it was impressed upon everyone that there would be less than ten unnaturals to deal with – though everybody already knew through the grapevine – and the relative lack of peril was appreciated.
It was around then that Venedir had teased Zander for almost continuously staring at the Windrider girl, and upon being chaffed, the navigator pointed out that the attention was reciprocal.
It was true and so Venedir turned to Callie – only to find to his dismay that she was actually observing the proceedings of the room quite closely.
In turn he was also forced to pay attention.
The next major topic that was covered was whether the two drifts and officials should be accompanied with an ensemble of additional fighters from the town till all were escorted to their respective ships.
Here one of the officials – a Jemaihlo Loicus – had a fair bit of relevant information on the matter.
“See, if we travel with a proper bodyguard, the unnaturals will just wait till we’re sufficiently separated from any help.”
“Can they travel that well over sea?” Amelie asked.
“…
I do not know.
But I do know that if we are intercepted there, we have much more to lose by way of critical damage to the ships.
That is why I wish to deter them from even risking sea travel.
Twenty one of yous and thirteen of us is a good number against their nine – which is the worst case scenario.”
“All of our members are not fighters, nor the Serenedipity’s, and clearly neither are yours.” said Axill, one of the fighters in the Windriders.
“Even then!” persisted Jemaihlo.
“It’s better than risking damage to your ships, trust me.
They are likely to attack sooner than later anyway as the risk of fatigue and becoming the target aquatic monsters and other predators increases the more the unnaturals are at sea.
If we are to face them then, it will still be thirty-four.
At least, here we can prepare for the exact moment and be at our most active and alert.”
This was conceded as a good point by both drifts, especially given that they would not be putting any other lives at risk.
And so it was decided that the two drifts would take another two days to prepare, All necessary weapons and other tools would be fetched from the ships and the two ships would strategically be anchored with the other ships, where a large group of farers would await the drifts’ arrival.
Another group of farers would escort them till a certain distance – around ten kilometres away.
This relatively isolated stretch of plain open grasslands would act as the field of battle.
The outlook for the weather was cloudy with little chances of rain so it would be ideal.
In case anything were to drastically go wrong, help would not be more than a quarter hour away, to be signalled by firing a red flare, though Venedir imagined one of Linny’s fireballs punched by him with enough force would do the trick just as well – if not better.
Given that all fighters were present in the room, the government officials briefed them about the unnaturals.
And though their engineering and physical attributes varied, the farers could make a good assessment of their enemy and the group planned their on-ground strategy accordingly.
And so with the details largely hashed out and the discussion having been dragged on for over an hour, the Rum Baxters decided to disperse, thinning the throng considerably.
Thereupon they had a more detailed discussion.
Out of the officials, there were three capable combatants – equivalent at least to the Faring’s ‘Trained’ fighters -, namely Faera, a Brina Lorezo and a Xerlev Rambona -; the Windriders had three as well – Axill, Raelene and Pelina; and the Serendipity had a fighting trio as well, though theirs was the most controversial.
Venedir did not like to call himself a fighter neither did he have the prerequisite years of tuition – if one were speaking purely in terms of certification -, but he had the skill, experience and was increasingly inclined to start considering himself a fighter, especially since it meant he would be in the frontlines of the battle with the other eight.
Linny’s situation was similar in that he did not have a formal training in fighting but was arguably a better fighter than Venedir, and he was a child on top of it – which meant he had the childish stubbornness about him as well, which ultimately had to be complied to.
Even with these nine people forming the outer line of defense, it was very probable that due to the unnaturals’ combat skill and the dynamics of battle – all of which could not be sufficiently accounted for – this layer could very well be breached or otherwise compromised, and hence another layer was necessary with those who had at least the rookie level of study of fighting.
Of these, there were three people in the government – Mr.
Corroway, one Alema Zyrin and a Bertloz Sunrem.
Venedir would have assumed – out of prejudice or ignorance, he could not say – that government life would be monotonous, a one-way track to becoming a master of one.
Gallin certainly confirmed those assumptions of his which were now challenged seeing people who were a jack of fighting, presumably jacks in other fields as well.
Maybe the government was not so boring and life-sucking after all.
Or maybe these people had faring backgrounds before being pulled into the abyss of state-running.
That was a more pleasurable thought certainly.
The human brain – or at least Venedir’s – did not like greyness while adjudging an entity.
Stark contrasts were so much easier to regulate behaviour – unsuited though it might be.
Finley was a standout recommendation to the faring’s merits.
A master of one, but also a jack of many.
Having trained with Finley, Venedir was pretty sure that he qualified as a rookie level fighter; and his thoughts seemed to be aligned with those of his drift, because it did not take much insistence from Finley’s end for them to accept him along with the remaining Serendipity members into the second line, which was not to say that Finley did not make an airtight case for himself.
Along with his skills, he also mentioned that there would be no third line and any and all fighting had to cease at the second.
Additionally, due to lack of ability of the core to organise itself into any kind of fighting stance, even he did fight there, he would be in a highly compromised position – not that matters were likely to get so dire.
From the Windriders, there were five participants for the second line – namely Denive, Svena, Perisone, Therese and Hershil.
It was a robust enough final defense.
With all of that planned out and a fair few hours being left before Wairodon, the drifts decided to get all fighting materials from their ships and relocate them to the spot agreed upon.
The weather was nice, it was windy with a nice drizzle.
Wairo’s light was tempered and was soothing through the clouds.
Venedir found himself talking to the Windriders more than he did with the Serendipity.
He was curious about them, how their five years had been.
Venedir was glad to hear a uniform description of routine, happiness and contentment from anyone he talked to.
It was nice to hear that the Faring experience even in Lament could live up to his expectations.
It also confirmed his suspicions that this relative activity and chaos their faring had been marked by thus far was abnormal indeed, but perhaps also a function of the zone they were in.
A return to normal was expected and desired once they were done with the Buried Man but Venedir also wondered if such things that stretched and inconvenienced an individual were an inherent and necessary part of life for them to grow.
He for one knew that he would not find this revised affinity to fighting had such situations not arisen.
This affinity had changed from when he was a young adolescent and it felt more natural, more him.
But it was certain that the necessary inconveniences in life for growth did not have to be such outsized ones as this.
Once they were on the Oaty, it took them only a half hour to get all of their things, after which they went to the control room where Zander was checking on the communications as he guided the ship to blend in nicely with the others, navigating carefully through the cluster of vessels.
Unfortunately, news about Linny’s breakout finally had enough relative salience that it was mentioned in their broadcast – though it seemed only to the ships in the south-eastern part of the sixty-fifth.
In the distance, they could see the Windriders’ ship – the Laughing Gale -, the only other non-stationary vessel, making its way into the cluster as well.
Theirs was a much bigger vessel than theirs, though Venedir imagined it to be not that much more robust for the purposes of Faring and travelling far and wide.
Once that was all done, they started to make their way back to the town.
Venedir – now armed with his sword and hammer – was feeling more clunky but somehow also more comfortable.
The sword and hammer were like old friends – and possessive ones.
He now needed to keep himself at around a foot’s distance from anyone he was walking with to avoid nudging – or worse, hurting – them with his weapons.
It was amusing to him to see the others facing similar problems and a lot of soft spoken Sorrys, My bads, It’s okays and No worriess were heard for the entirety their walk back, which took much longer with all of the additional things they were carrying.
They also divvied up the government officials, and it was good that they did it then because it was a gruelling negotiation.
Venedir amused himself by gauging people’s body language and computing how close they were to drawing their weapons to cut short the parley or resolve it through nastier means.
Only Zander and Therese remained completely non-participative through it all, bringing up the rear and keeping a healthy distance from the uproar.
Unfortunately, everyone had an impressive control over their respective tempers and all violence was reserved for the day after the next.
Eh, maybe it’s for the better.
Venedir consoled himself as the Serendipity was dropped off to their villa and Windriders headed on to the Rum Baxters’ to inform them that the Serendipity would be transporting Mr.
Corroway, Faera, Alema and Welinger if that was okay with the respective individuals.
Venedir hoped it would be, especially since the officials could not be too picky in their state of relative helplessness.
57th day of the 10230th year since the passing of Kriene
The day after getting their weapons, the drift had recovered sufficiently from the aches to put in a good training session, which was not so gruelling so as to cause them to not be at their full capacity for the battle next day.
During the course of the previous night, they had also been supplied with some of the highest quality varieties of projectiles, courtesy the other drifts in Kinamel.
Their blades were mostly of a supremely high quality and did not need replacement.
Of course it would be ideal if they were equipped with guns and explosives and the like but those were only provided on very rare occasions after a thorough situation assessment by the government.
Even the officials had no weapons of the sort.
The sheer destructive, corrupting and polluting powers of such items kept them strictly confined to Lament and even within it for a small subset of use cases.
And unlike the unnaturals, their confinement had been implemented with much better results.
Venedir – and he imagined the rest of the drift as well – was now feeling increasingly grateful to Alaric for having conducted the training session two days priorly.
Not only could they perform much better in the day’s training, they weren’t likely to feel the rigors and aches of the exercise on the next day.
All companions were still away, which Venedir thought to be a good thing.
This inherent brokenness of their species should not be anyone else’s responsibility.
The other species managed to handle their affairs internally and they could do well to learn from them.
After a light lunch, they decided to train with the Windriders, who were more than happy to have the company.
There was a lot more talking in the inter-drift training than there had been before lunch.
But at the end of the day, everyone was quite happy with what they had gotten done.
The two drifts retired to their respective homes at Wairodon – with the amusing and intriguing exception of Zander and Therese.
Dinner was again a healthy meal with a lot of protein.
Venedir even set aside some food for Zander (and Therese) should he (they) come to the villa and find himself (themselves) in need for nutrition.
By the time Venedir was done with some light post-dinner reading and got to his room, Finley was already asleep.
Venedir soon joined his driftfellow in bed.
He did not have the energy to think of the book he’d been reading and its characters as the heaviness of his eyes took all of his attention.
It was not long before the singular series of light snores found its companion.