Ten years after the conquest of Freeport…
"So, Neddy, let me get this straight…”
“What?”
“They called ya off yer paid leave with the Division to take a look at some idjit squire who got in over her head, all the way across the continent. Do I have it right so far?"
"Yeh. So far.”
"And yer dumb enough to be doin' it, when ya be fully in yer rights to tell yer superiors yer off duty an’ make a ‘scene gesture at them, right?"
"Right."
"So why in Tymalt’s name are ya draggin' me and Taz into this? It's damn hot here in the Sabatku desert!"
"Cuz yer both ‘dumb enough to be doin' it’ with me,” replied Neddryn, imitating Solae’s inflection with a little smirk. “We ain’t in the middle of the desert yet either, so quit yer whinin’.”
His brother Solae snorted at him, coming up empty for a retort. The two akor’mari were just a day’s journey, as the ship sailed, from their intended port. Already the heat of the Sabatku was shimmering in the air around them, and despite their people’s discomfort in bright light, the pair were stretched out on the foredeck in the middle of the day, trying to catch some of the same cooling winds that filled the sails above them.
They were a long way from their home in Freeport now, Solae reflected, and the headquarters of the militaristic Division that Neddryn now called his command as Captain. The reach of the Mogul was growing long, indeed, to send one of his lesser officers so far out on account of one foolish squire.
If Neddryn was lesser. His service with the Division was a dark and complicated one these days, and even Solae didn’t know the all of it. He cast his brother a thoughtful glance, squinting as the sun’s light bounced off the waves behind him.
As if reading his hesitant thoughts, Neddryn’s smirk turned into a grin, white teeth flashing in his dark gray face. When Solae rolled his eyes at him, Neddryn turned the smile into a grimace. "The Division is already at max deployment with the neverending mess with Tarith, Solae. I trust ya, and Tazinil's already in the Division. It’s best this way.”
“ ‘Come with me,’ Neddy said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ Neddy said…” Solae muttered.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You sure did! Maybe ya just don't remember it after waking up in the Infirmary last week — ”
“Oh shut it!" snapped Neddryn, and Solae knew he had scored a point. The akor'mar put his face back in his arms, the better to ease the glare of the sun on his eyes, but also to hide his smirk.
“What are you two up to?” came another voice from behind them. Tazinil’s accent wasn’t as strong as the two brothers’, as he had been born and bred in Freeport, instead of the subterranean Reaches where most akor’mari hailed from in this part of the world. Solae risked more eyestrain to glance back at him. Tazinil wore his pale gold hair long, and his gray skin was faintly tinted with khaki: more indication of his heritage. Solae and Neddryn’s skin was the darker gray of iron, and their hair so pale a silver some Surfacers mistook it for white. They also kept it cut short, even though their days of crawling through tunnels were long over: something Solae was beginning to wish he could rectify, as the sun burned into his bare neck.
“What are you up to, sir,” snapped Neddryn from beside Solae.
“That’s right, don’t bother the Captain,” said Solae impudently. “He might string ya up from the yard, or whatever they call those things they put the sails on.”
Tazinil kept a carefully respectful face, though a faintly puzzled one, as he glanced at Neddryn to see if the threat was real. It might have been, for so it went for many officers in the Division, but Neddryn only snorted and rolled up into a sitting position.
“Cousin.” He addressed Tazinil, for cousin he was, if a distant one.
Tazinil saluted Neddryn despite the familial term, thumping his fist on his chest.
Neddryn nodded, and Solae couldn’t tell if it was in approval or not. “We’re official guests hailing from the Division durin' this mission, so keep yer mouth clean, ya understand?”
“Sir,” Tazinil acknowledged.
“What about me?” Solae dared to ask. "I ain't in the Division."
“Ya are if I say you are, and ya know why I wanted you along, and that should be good enough fer you and fer me!" Neddryn replied tersely. “Just stay out of the way.”
Solae nodded. He did understand, even if he still didn’t like it.
Neddryn looked back to Tazinil. “The La’aln that rule Sabatku aren’t currently part of the Krygon Empire, and they’re still tryin’ ta decide if they like the Mogul or not. We’re just here fer our missin’ squire, not any fancy negotiations, so it’s best we keep our heads down. Ya leave any talkin’ to the officials to me, seen? No trouble, no startin’ fights.”
Tazinil saluted emphatically with another, “Sir!”
Personally, Solae didn’t think Neddryn had anything to worry about in that akor’mar. Though much of his immediate family was independent, stubborn, and loved a good fight, Tazinil was from that part of the family that tried to be respectable, or at least, as far as akor'mari born outside of Vuzsdin went.
As if reading his thoughts again, Neddryn turned to frown at Solae. Solae smiled back. “And no dying this time, right?” Solae asked innocently.
Neddryn’s eyes narrowed. He said nothing, but he still reflexively rubbed the back of his neck where a white scar stretched across the knobs of his spine. Tazinil’s puzzlement grew deeper, but Neddryn kept his violet eyes locked on Solae’s yellow ones.
“You know yer role,” was all Neddryn said.
“...sir,” Solae muttered in reply, breathing out a sigh.
