“Magus Verhen, if it’s not too much trouble, do you mind telling the story behind that plaque?”
“The one I carved? Why?” Lith furrowed his brows while the customers gasped in shock.
“Because no one believes me and calls me a fraud.” Gilad’s voice was sad but his gaze was fiery as he glared at those who had relentlessly mocked him.
“Let’s teach them a lesson then.” Lith told the story in a cut-and-dry family-friendly version due to the presence of the kids but it still matched Gilad’s words.
He even turned a mug of ale into a weapon and then back into beer to give a practical demonstration.
“Aren’t you going to drink it?” The owner said in a pleading tone.
“It’s morning, mister.” Kamila glared at him. “What kind of example are you setting for young children?”
“My apologies.” Gilad backed down quickly.
The Hot Pot wasn’t a family restaurant and its clients drank at every hour of the day. Gilad wasn’t used to setting boundaries but for the sake of his profits, he was willing to learn.
***
Continent of Jiera, Flying Feather outpost, at dawn.
It was the second time in centuries that Salaark walked another continent. She didn’t like crossing into the turf of another Guardian but since she despised Fenagar and her people needed her help, the Overlord made an exception.
She was in her human form, wearing the same red desert robe that identified her as the ruler of the land. It was a custom with which Jierans were unfamiliar, but things were about to change.
Salaark carried the “little” Shargein in her arms with ease, even though the Wyrmling had already reached the size of a small horse.
“There was no need for your presence, My Liege.” Resaal, one of the members of the Nest stationed in Jiera said. “You shouldn’t bother yourself with something as trivial as recruiting. It’s beneath yourself.”
“There’s nothing trivial in getting to know my subjects, my Featherling.” She replied. “First impressions matter and since I’m going to demand the servitude of the Jierans, I want to make things clear from the start.
“Otherwise we might take in people who are more trouble than they are worth or who might defect at the first controversy and reveal our plans to our competitors. I need loyal subjects and despite all your powers, Featherling, you are no leader.
“None of your siblings is and it’s my fault.” She sighed. “I’ve taught you how to follow orders, not to impart them. Yet I like things as they are and have no problem taking responsibility for my own decisions. Where are we going to start?”
“The closest city to us is Zarka and belongs to the Beast Empire.” Resaal said after checking a map. “I’ve already contacted the local authorities and they have granted you full access to the human residential quarters.”
“Like I’m going to need to speak more than once.” Salaark scoffed.
Under normal circumstances, recruiting citizens from another country would have been considered an instigation of treason, but there was nothing normal in Jiera’s current situation.
There were too many human survivors and not enough Awakened of their same race to take care of them. Beasts and plant folk had saved their human friends and their families from the plague but the problem was that unlike them, humans needed society to thrive.
They didn’t know how to make themselves clothes, shoes, craft tools, or even butchering game. All things that beasts and plant folk knew nothing about. They had begrudgingly taken responsibility for the humans they had saved, treating them like whiny, noisy, and dumb cubs.
With time, the number of humans had increased, which was good because they were needed for the balance. On the other hand, the trouble they brought had grown with them and the current crisis made the humans even more unpleasant guests.
They were weak, couldn’t fight against the monster tides without proper weapons, and they needed years to reach adulthood. Each city of the Beast Empire had its forces stretched thin from providing enough food for everyone and dealing with both monster tides and lost cities.
Sure, with the destruction of Thaymos, the black tide, and Argantyr’s capture, things had eased a bit, but beasts still couldn’t wait to get rid of all those useless mouths to feed. Humans were prideful and headstrong, refusing to give up on their heritage and native language.
While beasts and plant folk worked hard to learn and spread Tyris’ universal language, humans resisted the change and split their city blocks among themselves based on their countries of origin.
It made communication hard and teamwork nigh-impossible. The Siren who ruled over Zarka had taken Salaark’s request to address a recruitment speech to the humans with the same sadness she would have felt for getting rid of an overdue infestation.
“People of Zarka, listen to me and listen well. I’m not going to repeat myself and your very lives are on the line.” The Overlord stood on a raised dais as high as an adult man, allowing her gaze to sweep far and wide over the crowd.
Her voice resounded strong and full of charisma, her words sent a cold shiver down the spines of her audience.
“What is it now? Another lost city?” A man asked in Grenian.
“Shut up! I want to hear what she has to say.” Another man nudged him, speaking in Paclean.
Great was their surprise when they realized they didn’t speak the same language yet they understood each other. Everyone in the crowd understood the Overlord and those standing next to them for no apparent reason.
“I am Salaark, Overlord of the Blood Desert in Garlen and of the Flying Feather outpost here in Jiera. I won’t mince words with you nor will I lie. I come from a foreign land to make what once was yours mine.”
A low grumble of malcontent quickly rose in intensity just to be silenced by her thundering voice.
“Yet I haven’t come here as your enemy. Today I’ve come here to offer you a new life. Those who decide to follow me will have their own house on the surface. They won’t have to live in caves like beasts and will enjoy the sun, the breeze, and the rain.
“They will live like humans, tending their fields and practicing their crafts while my army will ensure their safety from any threat and that they are fed proper food after it has been properly cooked.”
The anger of the Jierans disappeared like snow under the spring’s sun. Their mouths watered at the idea of tasting spices after years of plain food, eating bread, and not having to live in the underground dungeon that the beasts called a city.
Truth be told, the caves were safe and easily defensible from external threats. They didn’t fear wind or bad weather, and earth magic could repair any damage without the need of specialized workers.
Beasts considered the caves beautiful because they loved simplicity and practicality, but for a human who had been uprooted from their homes, they looked like a dignified prison. Stone furniture, stone windows, stone everything.
Getting new clothes was a miracle, let alone drapes or carpets.
