The day after the blizzard was, without a doubt, the best day of the journey. After suffering from serious hypothermia and nearly getting mauled to death by a giant apparently-invisible wolf, I got to spend a day riding on one of the bessels! What I learned was that, as gigantic beetles, they are surprisingly chill. They mostly just scuttle forward, occasionally making noises reminiscent of a crocodile with indigestion, and are an absolute pleasure to ride on.

The other thing on my mind was the woman in black, the one who had saved my life by shooting right through the last blankwolf. Whenever I felt strong enough to walk, I searched up and down the line, looking for her or anyone who knew her. No responses, no answers. She was a phantom, a complete and utter enigma, especially considering that she apparently shared my ability to see the invisible. And as far as I could tell, unless everyone was playing a prank on me, they were invisible; Anna and Unity told me stories of paw prints appearing in the snow with no source, skin and muscle seemingly tearing itself apart, swords hitting their mark in thin air only for a huge beast to appear from nothing as it died. 

Even after I was forced to start walking again, the latter half of the journey to the treaty grounds was much more pleasant than the first. Once we were over that high mountain pass, the terrain rapidly turned into smooth hills and rolling plains, and by the end of the second day we were starting to see scattered fields of buckwheat and barley, though the farmers who tended those fields were too shy to be seen. This was the territory of the Durkahns, and when I was feeling unusually bored, it brought me a bit of joy to know that people were still managing to grow crops and live their lives in these extreme climes.

The last couple of days were less of a grueling trek through high mountains, and more of a pleasant and relaxing stroll through a slightly colder-than-usual countryside. Well, aside from the sore everything that you naturally get from crossing more than 150 miles over eleven days, and the constant sickly-sweet smell of bessels. People started talking more, and about more frivolous things, now that the danger of hypothermia and falling off of cliffs had been replaced by the danger of extreme boredom and grass allergies. 

The energy of the group was supercharged when, on the evening of day ten, we found a river. Only a few of the leaders of the expedition actually knew what that meant, but the story rapidly spread that the river meant we were near our goal. We followed the river’s course for a little less than a day before our destination came into view. The town was called Zrimash, according to a very enthusiastic Sir Margaret, and it had taken almost a year of back and forth courier messages to select it as the location of the negotiations. 

That morning, Ladies Halflance and Burnardor changed out of their travel clothes and into their most presentable coats and dresses, and the military contingent of the expedition held their rifles in their hands and stiffened into a parade-ground march. The servants, porters, and tagalongs stayed in the back of the column, with a couple of quick statements and stern expressions reminding us to not look foolish. 

We were, of course, greeted. The Durkahns clearly wanted to impress upon us that they weren’t to be trifled with, and as we pulled into the town, the main road was ringed on either side by what looked like an entire infantry company, guns at the ready and dressed in their showiest uniforms, with the epaulettes and gold trim. They looked about a hundred years less advanced than the Bluerose soldiers, carrying flintlock muskets instead of bolt rifles, the flashy outfits contrasting with the simple and concealment-focused blue cotton.

There were a few townspeople around as well, nervously huddling behind the lines of soldiers to watch the newcomers. A few mothers held their daughters and watched us pass, while teenage girls stood on the tips of their toes to see over the shoulders of the guards. It was an odd mix of curiosity and fear coming from the scattered members of our greeting party.

I only noticed these things on a background level, of course, because I was much too busy accepting the fact that the Durkahns were not human. That doesn’t mean that they were “savages” or “beasts” or whatever racist crap Burnardor happened to be talking about; I mean they were literally not members of the same species. Durkahns, as far as I could tell, averaged about seven feet tall, with grayish skin and fine albeit sparse fur along with long braided head hair, and builds that tended towards “wiry” or “athletic”. All of the ones older than teenagers had horns, as well, huge horns like an antelope with two or three spikes apiece. They had a slight muzzle, longer than a human jaw but shorter than a bear’s snout, and black nails that would turn into claws if they didn’t generally keep them clipped.

Zrimash itself was a small town, near the boundary between “town” and “village;” several hundred small dwellings, a few warehouses, a mill, a handful of other small businesses, all built around a large central structure, a wooden pyramid whose purpose I couldn’t quite figure out from a distance. The structures were all very medieval, and completely alien to everything I’d seen in the cities of Bluerose. Everything was crafted out of wood and stone, carved and shaped to fit together without nails or mortar. The urge to break out of the column and start putting my fingers on all of the interesting architecture, thus making a complete fool of myself, was incredibly strong. By the time we were brought to a stop at the foot of the pyramid, I had spent nearly five minutes wondering where I could find the Selenian equivalent of Adderall, or make it myself otherwise. 

The Durkahns had us stand in a rough blob in front of the pyramid until the servants around me started muttering that they’d abandoned us altogether. Even Halflance and Burnardor started looking a little offended, casting burning hot looks around the courtyard. The muttering and complaining slowly escalated until it seemed that something would have to break, when suddenly a huge thunderous horn sounded from the pyramid. 

All at once, the Durkahni soldiers dropped onto one knee, and Halflance motioned for us to do the same, with Sir Margaret and her guard dropping with almost as much coordination as the Durkahns. Burnardor remained standing, and about a third of the group followed her lead. A few seconds later, the huge double doors of the pyramid opened up, and a single Durkahn slipped through, a short woman clad in vibrant saffron-dyed robes. 

“The great temples of the Urcos plateau have come together today,” said the Durkahn, “that they might all greet you, folk of Blue Rose. May it bring honor upon my family to introduce to you the chanters of the three greatest temples. First: Chanter Dinara, of Temple Murahnok!”

Another Durkahn emerged from the still-open doors. She was tall, even for a Durkahn, tall enough that even Lady Halflance barely reached her chest. Her shoulders were broad and slightly bent, her robes verdant green and decorated with cloth of gold and sigils in an unfamiliar runic script. More strangely, she was holding a huge wooden mug in one hand.

“Welcome, Bluerose people,” said Dinara. “Blessings upon you, and may your cup always be full, haha!” She took a swig from the mug, then stepped in close to Lady Halflance, thrusting out her free arm. “Stand up, introduce yourself, please.”

Halflance stood up gingerly, nervously eyeing at the outstretched hand. “Lady Sarah Halflance of Bluerose, representing the Revolutionary-Intellectual Coalition.”

Halflance and Dinara both remained still, Halflance keeping ramrod-straight while Dinara held out her hand. “My apologies,” said Dinara, “Was I misled? I was told about this ‘shaking of the hand’ and I wanted to try it out.”

Lady Halflance made a sound like a woman who just realized she is about to start a serious diplomatic kerfuffle, and shook Dinara’s hand. That done, the Durkahn turned to Burnardor, muttering something under her breath.

“Lady Genesis Burnardor of Bluerose, representing the Seraphinites. You are certainly more amiable than the rest of your kind,” she said. It was then that I learned that Bluerose is way better at coming up with political party names than anyone on Earth.

Dinara didn’t respond to Burnardor’s comment, instead stepping back to stand next to the Durkahn’s herald.

“Second: Chanter Adilet, of Temple Kurzurna!”

The person who walked out of the pyramid next could not have been more clearly marked as a warrior if she had the word “warrior” written on a placard hanging around her neck. She was enormous, the same height as Dinara but stocky as well, covered in heavy layers of fat and muscle until the sleeves of her robe could hardly contain her arms. She wasn’t wearing armor, of course, though her orange robes were decorated with small metal plates to imply the outline of armor. The big steel helmet she was wearing framed but didn’t cover her scarred and grim expression, and it notably had two holes for horns even though only one horn passed through them. 

Adilet gave a long and formal bow to Halflance and Burnardor, to which the other women responded, Halflance in kind and Burnardor with somewhat less effort. She hadn’t said a single thing when she retreated to stand beside Dinara and the herald.

The third and final of the three Chanters was Chanter Zaya, of Temple Imzrai. She took a moment longer than the first two to emerge from the pyramid, and the reason why became obvious once she had. Zaya was small, stooped, a wizened old thing who huddled under her violet robes to guard her withered body against the cold. Clutched in one hand was a long staff, bereft of any adornment, purely to serve the practical purpose of supporting her weight. 

Zaya still had half a foot in height on Lady Halflance, who she was the first to greet. “Blessings of wisdom be upon you, that you might come to the correct conclusions in this great task,” she said, extending her hand. Lady Halflance reciprocated.

Burnardor thrust out her hand when Zaya walked up to her after giving her introduction. Zaya responded by bowing deeply and slowly, forcing Burnardor to catch up. “Blessings of wisdom be upon you, that you might learn respect in these trying times,” said Zaya, before returning to the other two Chanters. 

Now, getting to see the negotiators on the other side was at least vaguely interesting, but after that things degenerated into what I can only describe as “edging for the excessively fancy”, wherein both parties proceed to perform a variety of semi-religious and semi-political rituals involving the exchange of medals and long, rambling, pre-made mission statements. I’d experienced something almost as bad back on Earth, when I tried doing model UN for a year, and the fact that this was real international geopolitics did not make it any less interminable. As far as I cared, it was awful and drawn out and worst of all, boring. So I did what any sane person would do and left.

The only saving grace was that I was near enough to the back to make slipping out, while not completely effortless, rather easy. Once I was freed from having to watch people droning on and on, I started looking for something more interesting to spend my time on. Zrimash was nice to look at, though not being able to speak Durkahni made things a little difficult. I tried not to be an asshole tourist gawking at everyone, making gestures and facial expressions that would hopefully come off as nice and unobtrusive while I sampled all the cool medieval architecture. The odd looks I got were all out of curiosity and welcoming friendliness, I’m sure.

To tell the truth, aimless wandering is one of my favorite activities, which is why it’s a great shame that someone put an end to my aimless wandering before too long. I was staring at a huge Durkahni falt, wondering if I could pet it without making anyone angry or getting gored, when my train of thought was derailed by a voice from behind me.

“Don’t you have an opening ceremony to be at?” The voice wasn’t speaking Durkahni, but did have an accent that maybe suggested the language. 

I very slowly turned around. “Would you believe the answer is no?”

The woman in front of me was indeed a Durkahn, albeit a strangely-dressed one. She was tall enough that my face was barely level with her upper stomach, and looked like she had enough muscle to pick me up off the ground with one hand. That she was a soldier was obvious, if not by the way she carried herself, then by the sword and pistol at her belt. The odd thing was that she wasn’t wearing the standard uniform; instead of flashy reds and greens, she was wearing a pragmatic leather riding coat, marked with green paint in a few strategic locations for… camouflage, I supposed. Her horns were marked as well, small rings and geometric designs carved directly into the keratin. 

“I wouldn’t,” she said, folding her arms. “What are you doing out here?”

“Uhh. Hmm. Well, you see, I was sent by Lady Halflance to…” My ability to lie completely failed me. “It’s really boring back there and I decided to sightsee instead.”

The Durkahn soldier smirked. “You and me both, human. Utterly useless ceremonies getting in the way of actual business, I can’t stand it. If chanters and Ladies didn’t feel the need to spend so long patting each other on the back for being so refined, we’d have a treaty by now.”

I paused, realizing that I wasn’t in trouble for once. “So you aren’t here to drag me, kicking and screaming, back to the ceremony?”

“Honestly, if that were my goal, it would be much more expedient to just kill you and then myself.”

“So…” I said, not sure how to respond to that. “Who are you?”

“I could ask the same thing,” she said.

“You first.”

“Sarnai, of no family,” said Sarnai. “I serve in Dinara’s guard, though apparently our role here has been to stand around and look intimidating.”

“Mar— Sorry, Emma Farrier. I’m Lady Halflance’s ward, which basically means I live in her house and she makes sure I don’t get myself killed,” I said. “She was going to leave me behind, but I begged to come with so I could…” I gestured vaguely towards the building I had been ogling.

“A fan of… architecture?”

I shrugged. “Not really. I like looking at new things, and it’s more interesting than the diplomats. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Of course,” said Sarnai. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little overwhelmed when I first saw the Urcos plateau. You should see the grand temple at Murahnok, or old Castle Imzrai.”

“Are you not from here?” I said, confused.

Sarnai shook her head. “Dinara prefers to use mercenaries for her guards, for whatever reason. But that’s besides the point.”

I didn’t really have any response for that, so I ended up very slowly walking away and hoping Sarnai would do the same. It took a moment for me to realize that I was missing some critical information. 

“Erm, Sarnai? Where is the delegation staying? Is there a hotel in Zrimash, or something?”

Sarnai chuckled. “No, there is not. And a good thing, too; I doubt this town could hold all of you humans at once. Follow me, there’s a treaty grounds being built on the outskirts.”

I wheeled around and followed her through the streets, thinking about how I had been doing a lot of following since I arrived on Selene. Then again, I hardly knew how to get to places, so that made a degree of sense. 

“So, if Zrimash is too small to hold all of us, why is the negotiation happening here?” I asked.

Sarnai sighed. “Zrimash is an independent temple, and far enough from Imzrai, Murahnok, and Adilet that the chance of interference is minimal.”

“And, wait, if the town is so small, how are they able to support—”

“You have a lot of questions,” said Sarnai. “Perhaps you would like to ask someone else.”

The treaty grounds, as they were apparently called, were just across the river from Zrimash, connected to the main town by a short stone bridge. For the most part, while it wasn’t quite as basic or temporary as the tents we had used to cross the mountains, it was still made out of low structures, wooden planks secured together into stout angular domes, sort of like a prefab log cabin. The only people around were Durkahn workers setting up the final few structures, but I could already imagine the rush to unpack everyone’s luggage into the various buildings.

The days and days of travel had left me exhausted. Not necessarily in the sense you expect, but deep down inside me, making every load feel just a bit heavier. There was nothing interesting to look at in the treaty grounds unless I felt like being rather obnoxious to one of the laborers, which left me with only one option. I found a slightly soft-looking hut, sat down with my back against it, and fell asleep almost instantly.

I was woken up an hour later by Lady Halflance, kicking me in the ribs and looking very annoyed.

SaffronDragon

Thank you all so much for reading the chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed it! Remember to favorite, leave comments, leave a rating or a review if you haven’t already, because those are the things that motivate me to keep writing more and keep writing well! If you want to support the author, read several chapters ahead in all of my stories, as well as gain access to a discord community where you can speak to me personally and read several exclusive short stories, subscribe to my Patreon at patreon.com/saffrondragon I'm going to be making a lot of changes around there over the next few days, so feel free to check it out a second time, even if you've already looked once.