[Hlaeth] Ch 34 - Talking with Some Natives

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            “You know you two were perfectly visible approaching my camp from above. Hiding out there while staring at me looks VERY suspicious.”

            The two fellows over there behind the rock and brush of my campsite for this evening tensed up. They weren’t radiating Evil, but there was a healthy dose of pragmatism running through them that was well off the track of Good.

            “If you’d care to join me, I’ll spring for the wine.” I didn’t drink much at all, so I had reserves of it.

            There was a moment or three of hesitation, and then they slowly and carefully came out of cover.

            They would have looked comical to normal eyes, one being inhumanly tall and long-armed, clearing eight feet easily, tusked, purple-skinned, white pupils, vestigial horns at his forehead, and rippling with long, lean muscle. The other was under six feet tall, but easily half again as broad and thick as a human, layers of muscle on a stout frame that managed to look massive and compact at the same time, with a short and very black beard, hair, and eyes.

            Aural strength indicated Sevens, and they moved with wary alertness and readiness to flee from danger. I wasn’t in any danger from them, despite what they might think. Seven was a respectable level of accomplishment from any normal person, but I was a post-Ten with all the Gear. The only magic they had on themselves were magical Weapons, and those were only the most basic melee Weapons.

            Didn’t even have magic arrows for the crossbows they were using. For Sevens, that was pretty sad, although it might mean they didn’t have the opportunity to interact with the people who could make magical items, and/or never received the training to do so themselves.

            Or… it could be a simple question of difficulty and time. Dwarves and elves were both long-lived. If it took months to make magical Weapons and Armor, that meant that younger folks who didn’t inherit such things were really in a difficult spot.

            It would also drive up the cost of the Weapons and Armor out there. Mmm. I hadn’t inquired into the mechanics of such things with the dwarves, and the System here might be radically different from the Power of Ten in that respect. That elves had craploads of the stuff didn’t mean a thing if they had centuries to accumulate them…

            The two came into the light of the flames, crossbows held at arms, pausing uncertainly as they regarded me there, sitting on my Floating Forge and pondering the silver-gold Eternal Flame burning on the top of a convenient rock there. No tent or even a bedroll, just me and the side of a mountain and the unfamiliar starfield filling the heavens with a new and gorgeous view above me.

            “I am Aelryinth of Heaven, Magos,” I introduced myself, waving them to two more Disks I waved up absently, making them twitch at the casualness of my magic use. “You gentlemen are?”

            They looked at one another warily, but it was the short brick who stepped forward slightly to say, “Kord and Hano Blackaxe,” he said a little curtly, Human coming a little roughly off his lips, suspicion clear in his voice. “We help monitor the borders of the mountain for Clan Jadeaxe, Magos,” he went on directly. “A human spellcaster of obvious power like yourself is a bit strange to run into, Magos…”

            “Oh, you’re Hillguard? Interesting that the dwarves would employ auxiliaries, especially since I think the Clan you’re talking about is four mountains to the west.” Both of them winced faintly at my words. “Regardless, you are welcome to my fire.” I gestured to the Disks I’d flicked up, and a bit reluctantly, they gingerly took seats on them. When the force circles proved remarkably comfortable and didn’t blink out beneath them, they relaxed a little moment, and after a nod from the smaller one, set their crossbows aside.

            I pulled out a couple bottles of ice wine from the cherry orchards up by Traverse City, dumped them into a pot with some orange shavings and spices, and set it hovering over the Fire burning there casually, with a stone stick constantly stirring it all by itself. The two of them watched it all in fascination at such casual use of magic.

            “You’ve some questions, lads. Ask away.”

            Establishing age and seniority, the two readjusted their mindsets accordingly. “Um, Lord Magos, sir,” the smaller one said carefully, a bit awkward, clearly wondering what the proper protocol for dealing with a prominent mage was, “we’re wondering if you’re from Rhonidum or not, is our main concern.”

            He looked startled that he’d blurted that out so directly, as did his oversized comrade. Perils of dealing with a high Charisma user of Truth.

            “I don’t even know what that is. I’m not even from this world. I came in from outside the Veil to this world on the island of the Aldari about five thousand miles to the west of here. Given your tone, I’m not certain I’d like this Rhonidum place much at all,” I replied to them.

            Both of them relaxed marginally in relief, as if I couldn’t see how tense and ready to grab for knives they were.

            “Apologies, Lord Magos, but you speak their language, although with a strange accent,” Kord answered carefully.

            “No, I don’t. I speak Human. It’s a universal language for humanity, like speaking dog or cat, Draconic or Jotun, Celestial or Demonic, Pyric or Cirrus. I’m a pure strain human, I speak the language of my race. You’re both half-bloods, so you can understand it with little trouble.” They bristled automatically at my designation of them. “Dhatun and Ogryn don’t have racial languages that I know of, so most default to Human. Do you normally speak in Dwarvish or something?”

            They shuffled uncertainly as I mildly deflected their ire, especially referring to them as separate races like I had.

            “There’s a Common tongue, Lord Magos, sort of borrowed from multiple languages, that is used widely for trade and other matters here in the North,” the short one explained cautiously.

            “A pidgin tongue? Well, no matter. I can speak and be understood by anyone, and there are very few languages I can’t learn quickly or translate.” I had made it a minor task to try to learn a language a week back on Terra, although admittedly a lot of them had been old, dead human languages, as there were only so many racial languages around to feed into Polyglot.

            A ‘Common’ language wouldn’t take me long to work out and understand inside and out.

            The mulled wine was starting to warm up, and both of them sniffed in appreciation as the scent circulated in the cold air around us.

            “May we ask what you are doing out here, Lord Magos, sir?” the dhatun spokesman asked carefully, at least partially disarmed by how casual I was acting, and my apparent friendliness.

            “I’m doing an extremely detailed survey and examination of the Yellow out to the south of you in preparation for a probe into the source of it, for the purpose of breaking the Veil and allowing me to head on home from here.”

            They both froze in disbelieving shock, or rather, just shock. It was very hard not to believe words that resonated with Truth, after all.

            “The, the Yellow, sir?” the ogryn repeated in a marvelously deep bass, as if to be sure of what I had said.

            “It stands between me and my road home. That is a very bad place to be standing, Master Hano.”

            The ogryn looked extremely non-plussed at being called a master. “I’m, I’m no Master, Lord Magos,” he said somewhat stiffly, although he couldn’t keep the gratification out of his voice.

            “You and your brother are both Sevens in my eyes. Where I come from, that means you are both Masters of Combat, having broken the First Ceiling and taken the first steps onto the higher road of power and skill that exceeds mortal limits. Master Kord, Master Hano.”

            The two of them looked at one another, then back at me, as if trying to believe anyone could be as open and honest as I was.

            “That is a very strange thing to hear from a human, Lord Magos,” the dhatun warrior admitted. “I am afraid we are far more used to hearing racial slurs and insults from humans.”

            “I will freely admit that there are no ogryn or dhatun where I hail from, young Masters, but that doesn’t give me leave to preemptively judge you from any standard. While you don’t stand firmly in the Light of Heaven, you aren’t bad souls, and Heaven doesn’t give a shit if you were born human or goblin, dragon or dwarf. If you stand in the Light of Heaven, Heaven backs you, and expects those faithful to it to do the same.”

            Both of them looked suitably impressed. “You sound like one of the Sun Preachers, Lord Magos, without all the implications that those who aren’t fully human like them are steeped in sin and punished for being born half-human.”

            I frowned. “No servant of Heaven would say such a thing and remain a true servant. Institutional bigotry is a tool of Law, Evil, and specifically Hell, creating divisions where there are none and cloaking it in the trappings of societal custom, giving hate the appearance of legitimacy.

            “Are you the first of your lines, or descendants? If the latter is the case, you are half-bloods in name only. If you are the first, you set the tone for those who come after you, and while you may respect your parents, you are not your parent races, you are their children, and children grow up and find their own ways.”

            They were shuffling, pride returning to them, clearly not knowing how to respond to positive reinforcement from a human like myself. “That’s… very strange to hear from a human, Lord Magos,” Kord admitted uncertainly.

            “I’m more interested to hear more of this sun god’s preaching. Is He supposed to be a great god of Good, or just some judgmental thing of Light?”

            They both kind of blinked at me in wonder at my irreverence. “There’s a whole nation devoted to Rai-Ar, Lord Magos! He’s considered the greatest of the holy powers in all of Hlaeth!”

            “But He isn’t responding to anyone, including His priests, which means the drivel coming out is either very old dogma that means He is not a thing of Heaven, or it’s new dogma that imperfect mortals are embracing, either deviating from canon or being mislead by subtle forces over time, something humans with limited lifespans are quite susceptible to.” I looked away as they glanced at one another again, wondering where this was going, clearly never having looked at the matter that way. “I imagine they still have access to some form of Healing power through alternate methods? Monastic discipline, possibly? Not as effective as the legends of old?”

            “Yes, the priests use great spiritual power to heal folk of injuries and diseases,” Kord nodded. I snapped my fingers, and two loaves of hot bread popped out of nowhere, which I tossed to them. They caught the loaves reflexively, put them up to their noses, and inhaled deeply.

            Both of their stomachs rumbled. Without a moment of hesitation, both of them tore into the buttery, salted loaves with energy and determination, and the sounds of glee they made were louder than their stomachs had been.

            I formed a couple mugs out of the local stone, poured the mulled wine into them, and sent them drifting across to the pair of them. They were very appreciative that the mugs were sized just right for massive mitts half again and twice as large as a normal human’s hands, respectively.

            More Wine meant I could pour in and add more to the winepot all night, and I had the feeling the two of them could probably drink it all, too. That was more amusing than anything else, but I had a lot of resources stashed in my Sanctum, especially as I’d been expanding it urgently during my stops on my trips home.

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