"Ah, Kazmiohn Ruokharismet. Always a pleasure to see you," the Orenfior greets our commanding officer. Santhrobar, Alderon, Mailadui, Zelphinon, and I stand somewhat behind our Kazmiohn; I, at least, am thrilled just to be standing here, to be standing anywhere. I've been recovering from the onzereth poisoning for the past few days, and I'm incredibly thankful to have achieved my goal of making it to this meeting.
"Thank you, Your Excellency, for agreeing to squeeze us into your schedule so quickly," the Kazmiohn replies with uncharacteristic humility.
"Your reasoning was quite compelling. And these must be the representatives of Squadron 317." The Orenfior turns his attention to us. He is quite unlike the Andelfior in every conceivable way: respectable tone and demeanor, sensible clothing choices, an air of seriousness about him. Even the furnishings here in his Hall of Audience are much less lavish than the Andelfior's home, although I'm sure the Orenfior could afford greater splendor if he so chose.
"Yes, Your Excellency. We felt comfortable allowing half of the squadron to attend today."
"Well, are you going to introduce them, or are they to be nameless observers?"
"Of course. Santhrobar and Alderon serve as the squadron's leaders." My comrades step forward and bow as they are named. "And then we have Mailadui, Zelphinon, and Azerai."
We also bow to our city's leader, but I'm glancing around while my head is lowered. Curiously, I don't see the zaikarit or any of the so-called emissaries from Kedar-Jashun anywhere. Supposedly, we are meant to be part of the Orenfior's interview with them.
"I am glad that you all could be present today, and that you were able to come early, before the rest of our guests arrive," the Orenfior tells us. "Your Kazmiohni have filled me in on much of what has gone on with your journey to and from Kedar-Jashun and what has happened since your return, and I wanted to make sure you had an opportunity to get properly settled, without any chances for unnecessary conflict."
Ah. So that explains it, then.
"Will the chairs behind yours do for them?" Kazmiohn Ruokharismet inquires.
"Yes, they've been set up for your particular use. But Kazmiohn, you will stand at my right hand."
"Of course, Your Excellency." We all move to our assigned positions. Zelphinon and Mailadui stay very close to me, one on each side, until we reach the chairs. Evidently neither of them has much confidence in my ability to walk on my own, and given my condition these past few days, I don't blame them. The hallucinations stopped within a day of starting Zelphinon's herbal treatment, and the fever took only slightly longer to disappear, but the muscle weakness is taking its time to wear off.
"Are you all right?" Zelphinon asks me quietly as we sit down.
"Yes. Will you be, when they arrive?" I reply in kind.
"Cold and unmoving as ice."
I have no doubt he will be; I've never known Zelphinon to have any difficulty with self-control. Mostly I'm just tired of people asking about my well-being. I want some sense of normalcy back, foolish though I know that is.
"I believe everything is prepared. Arvishen, please show in my guests," the Orenfior directs one of his assistants. He is far more respectful to his staff than I have ever seen the Andelfior behave, I observe silently. Perhaps this is a city leader worthy of his position.
The assistant, apparently called Arvishen, opens the entry doors to the Hall of Audience and calls down the hallway. Moments later, he steps out of the doorway to allow six hooded figures to enter the room, accompanied by a few of the Orenfior's personal guard, Fiorzhanim.
"You will remove your head coverings in the presence of the Orenfior," Arvishen reproaches them. One of them snaps back in the dialect of Kedar-Jashun. I feel Zelphinon flinch next to me. What did he say?!
"If you wish to move forward with this audience, gentlemen, I suggest you remove your hoods," Kazmiohn Ruokharismet insists harshly.
A few moments of impasse, and then, reluctantly, all of the emissaries and their bodyguards remove their hoods, revealing that their hair has been cut short, somewhat haphazardly.
"What in the world?" I whisper. This makes no sense. I have never known anyone, man or woman, to cut their hair short except in times of mourning. The zaikarit, in particular, seemed to take great care and pride in the appearance of his topknot.
"It's almost as though someone cut off their topknots with a knife while they were sleeping," Zelphinon remarks so that only I can hear. A hint of a smirk plays about his mouth.
"Forgive our dishevelment, Your Excellency," one of the emissaries who is not the zaikarit begins with uncharacteristic humility. "Ve have...suffered someting of an accident."
"Did you...?" I ask Zelphinon.
"I will explain later," he tells me, and I grudgingly resign myself to wait.
"I judge not on appearances," the Orenfior replies to the emissaries. Though I cannot see his face, I sense some curiosity in him as to the cause of their 'dishevelment,' but I doubt he will ask about it. That is not the purpose of this meeting, and I am told that the Orenfior is first and foremost a man of purpose. "What prompted you to journey so far from your ancestral homeland to Orenxiao?"
"I am a zaikarit of ze Molongun tribe. Ve seek an audience vith ze Yrivvior," the zaikarit answers with an ill-advised amount of his usual haughtiness.
"For what purpose? No one approaches the Yrivvior without first meeting with me."
"Kedar-Jashun is much plagued by ze Erivim," the third emissary takes over hastily. It seems at least some of them have learned from their past mistakes. "Our livestock are taken, and sometimes some of our young people. Traders come less often because of ze danger. Ve do not know for how long ve can continue our traditional vay of life if someting does not change for ze better. Ve come to appeal for aid."
"Surely you have more experience than we do in combating the Erivim, if things are as bad as you say, and the strategies that work in a large city like this might not work in Kedar-Jashun."
"Ve vant fighters, professional fighters, such as ze kind who sit behind you. Some assigned to each tribe, for protection," the first emissary clarifies.
"Alzough, not zose particular fighters," the zaikarit mutters, glaring daggers toward Zelphinon and me.
"And why not?" Kazmiohn Ruokharismet interjects, like a tiger pouncing on its prey. "Their squadron served you admirably, from what we understand, and each member of the squadron has stellar service records."
"Perhaps zey have not told you ze whole story."
"Is it incorrect, then, that they completely eliminated an Erivim raiding party that threatened your tribe without any casualties or major injuries on your side?"
"No, zat is ze truf," the third emissary confirms, elbowing the zaikarit in the ribs.
"Is it incorrect that they saw fit to humor your request to escort you safely to Orenxiao, despite the fact that they had no way to guarantee that your goals could be met and your requests could be honored?"
"Zat is also true, alzough zey vere razer rude about it," the zaikarit grumbles.
"In what way, rude?" the Orenfior inquires, but he directs the question at Alderon and Santhrobar.
"I expect he means that we did not wish to escort a delegation of fifteen," Santhrobar responds mildly.
"And that we, along with the caravan leader, wanted whatever delegation we escorted to contribute positively to the overall well-being of the caravan by hunting, cooking, helping with maintenance, that sort of thing," Alderon adds calmly.
"Both reasonable, I think, given the circumstances. You yourselves have said that the region is dangerous. They would not want to take on more than they could reasonably expect to keep safe and fed and so on," the Orenfior remarks. He seems to be increasingly skeptical of his guests from Kedar-Jashun.
"Is this the rudeness you were referring to?" our Kazmiohn asks the emissaries.
"Yes," the first emissary confirms before the zaikarit can say anything.
"Is it incorrect that the squadron brought you and the caravan safely to Orenxiao without any further threats to your safety?"
"Not incorrect, alzough ve did not appreciate ze civilian voman zey had vit zem."
"It is my understanding that she was not appreciated by anyone present, and that she was quite restricted during the return journey."
"Is true," the third emissary grudgingly confirms.
"So what, then, is the issue with this squadron?"
"Ve have vaited far too long for zis meeting," the zaikarit fumes. "Zey vere supposed to—"
"They had no power to make it happen any faster, and they were very open and honest with you about that from the beginning. Or is that where they have not told the whole story?"
"Zey told us," the first emissary admits softly after a few moments of awkward standoff. "Many times. But...ze zaikaritim do not like to be told zat zey cannot have vhat zey vant, vhen zey vant it."
"You have put up with all this," the Orenfior says, between a statement and a question, to Santhrobar and Alderon.
"Yes, Your Excellency," Santhrobar answers.
"And more," Alderon adds, after exchanging a quick glance with Kazmiohn Ruokharismet. "Did our Kazmiohni tell you that they are from the same tribe as my siblings and me, and that we had a duel to save my brother's life from execution at their hands, even after we'd fought the Erivim on their behalf?"
"It was mentioned, though I confess I still do not understand it," the Orenfior answers.
"A life for a life. He killed vun of our own, years ago," the zaikarit hisses, glaring at Zelphinon again.
"For what reason?" This time the Orenfior's eyes are on Zelphinon.
"The man in question appeared to be assaulting my mother. I was young, and simply wanted him to stop hurting her," Zelphinon replies quietly. My heart aches for him. I know he hates to speak of it.
"And for this he was to be executed?" the Orenfior questions, clearly incredulous at the logic of the Molongun tribe. The emissaries say nothing, to my surprise. "In this duel, did you fight on your own behalf, Zelphinon?"
"That was forbidden by the rules of the duel. Azerai fought for me."
The Orenfior's eyes fall on me. Suddenly the floor is very interesting. I do not want this recognition.
"And won, I take it."
"Easily," Alderon confirms.
"You chose her to shame us!" the zaikarit interrupts, eyes blazing. "It is unnatural for voman to have such skill in battle! If zis Azerai is voman at all."
Excuse me?!
"What else would she be?" Kazmiohn Ruokharismet inquires with a scathing glance that expresses my feelings more tactfully than I could at present.
"Demons, Azerai and Zelphinon boht."
"I think the only fault I've found in anyone in this squadron, in the course of this interview, is entertaining the wishes of madmen such as yourself," the Orenfior mutters. "But we have gotten severely sidetracked. You want fighters, warriors, from elsewhere in Yrivvenna assigned to protect the tribes in Kedar-Jashun."
"Yes, zat is our vish," the third emissary confirms, his demeanor showing the same astonishment I think we all feel that the Orenfior is still entertaining this discussion.
"Do you not have your own fighters?"
"Ve do. But as shown in ze duel vit Azerai, ours cannot hold a candle to zose trained elsevhere."
"So you need an improved system for training your warriors."
"Vit all due respect, Your Excellency, ve do not have time to train up better varriors. Ze Erivim treahten now. Our vay of life is in danzher now. Ve need help now, not vhenever proper varriors can be trained."
"You raise a good point. And the question of why your far less reasonable compatriot has the title of zaikarit."
"If I may, Your Excellency?" Kazmiohn Ruokharismet interjects. The Orenfior waves at him to proceed. "If your need is so pressing, why is it only now that you have decided to plead your case in Orenxiao?"
"Ve vanted to be sure ve get here. At least in our tribe, ve have not seen city soldiers in action against ze Erivim before," the first emissary explains. "Zis sqvadron perform well under attack, far better zan our fighters have ever fared. Ve find out after ze battle zat zis sqvadron has fought Erivim before, and ve decide zis is best chance to go."
"Ah, so this is that squadron," the Orenfior realizes.
"He didn't know beforehand?" Mailadui whispers to me. I shrug. It seems just as unlikely to me as it does to her, but apparently our Kazmiohn hadn't told the Orenfior that we are the squadron from Andelxiao, and in fact he seems rather displeased that this information is now out in the open.
"Here is what I will offer you, emissaries from Kedar-Jashun," the Orenfior continues. "First, zaikarit, know that the tact and truthfulness of your fellow emissaries has saved you from being tossed unceremoniously out of the city with no offer of an escort back to your homeland. While I am most displeased by how you have treated our warriors, I cannot deny the logic in your request. The Erivim pose a threat to all of Yrivvenna, and that threat must be eliminated. So I will bring your request for an audience to the Yrivvior, with the understanding that he is a very busy man. It may take a moon, perhaps multiple moons, before he is able to meet with you, and you must be patient. If I receive any further reports that you have been harassing any of the Orenzhanim, I will have you thrown out of the city with the rest of the rubbish, and no aid will be forthcoming. Have I made myself clear?"
"Transparently," the third emissary gulps.
"Excellent. You are dismissed. Arvishen, please see that they are escorted back to their lodgings."
"As you wish, Your Excellency," Arvishen replies immediately. He has been waiting with some impatience for exactly this order, as have the Fiorzhanim who brought the Molongun emissaries into the Hall of Audience, and they waste no time in carrying out the Orenfior's wishes. Only once the doors have securely closed behind them does the Orenfior speak again.
"Well, Kazmiohn, it seems this squadron of yours is quite exceptional," the Orenfior utters. "I should like to add them to the Fiorzhanim."
Arvishen --> AHR-vee-shehn