Dragan Hadrien was beginning to think this was a very bad idea.

Then again, it had only just started -- was it really fair for him to judge a book by it's cover? This was his plan, after all. Surely he'd put at least a little bit of thought into it. Even if he'd been unconscious for the last couple of days, Dragan was sure his mind could come up with a pretty good strategy. He just needed to have more confidence in himself.

His present circumstances were certainly helping with that.

Dragan's body still wasn't in such good shape that he could just walk around and do whatever he wanted -- so, for his visit to the enemy camp, he'd enlisted two of Lily Aubrisher's rebels to carry the old bulky chair he was sitting on. He lounged back in the wooden furniture as they grunted, transporting him past the entrance to the Regulator's warcamp.

Bruno walked beside them, his eyes betraying a certain dismal hopelessness -- no doubt he thought this plan was suicide. Dragan couldn't exactly blame him.

The Regulator camp was a stark contrast to what he'd seen of the 'resistance" so far.

The hollow-eyed, frightened rebels were replaced with firm, disciplined soldiers.

The ramshackle supply chains and overworked maintenance staff were replaced by orderly patrols of camp followers, making sure everything was in working order.

The young, overconfident leader was replaced by the man walking towards them, red long-coat waving in the wind.

Ah, Dragan thought. Maybe this really was a bad idea.

The man seemed to be in his late twenties, but even so his short hair was stark-white, and his eyes were hard enough to indicate a great deal of experience. Two antlers -- reachers or whatever they were called -- sprouted from his temples, stretching out a short distance before terminating in symmetrical ring structures. Dragan knew this must be the enemy leader, the one he'd been told about --

"Good day to you," the man said, voice suspicious.

-- Nael Manron. The one thought to be among the strongest of the Regulators. The one said to have the weakest Guardian Entity of them all.

Dragan's procession put the chair down on the ground, and he crossed his legs as he finally had solid ground beneath his feet again. Manron's eyes flicked from the two frightened-looking rebels, to Bruno, back to Dragan.

He'd obviously identified Bruno as the biggest threat among them. Dragan was only one step out of unconsciousness, and the obvious terror on the other two faces made them lambs practically begging for the slaughter.

Manron had no way of knowing about Serena, though -- they had that little trick in reserve if they needed it.

First, though, the pleasantries.

"And a good day to you as well," Dragan smiled, slouching back in his seat and ignoring his body's resultant twinge of protest. "I'd like to negotiate a few matters with you, if that's alright."

Manron raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with the person next to him -- a short, dark-haired woman with a green bandana pulled up to cover the bottom half of her face. A bodyguard, maybe?

The Regulator's eyes flicked back to Dragan. "I fear you haven't quite thought this situation through. You are obviously infirm, those two are frightened out of their wits, and your competent bodyguard is hopelessly outnumbered. Why exactly would I indulge in any kind of negotiation with you?"

So he had a bit of a better head on his shoulders than Atoy Muzazi. Still, no matter how smart they were, a sucker remained a sucker.

Dragan's smile spread just a bit wider. "Because we have a hostage, of course. One of your Regulators you sent to attack us back in the forest."

Nael's eyes narrowed. Clearly, he now had a foot in the door.

Dragan had to admit: the situation so far had given him some good cards to play in a confrontation such as this. If not for the existence of the hostage, and his knowledge of Nael Manron's character, this whole endeavour would have been nothing but a suicide mission. There was little room for deviation, but with these pre-existing conditions, Dragan had a plausible route to achieve his three objectives.

The first was to discover more about the Regulators, their Guardian Entities, and how the whole system worked.

The second was to sew doubt within the ranks, to weaken any united front the Regulators may try and form.

The third was to buy some damn time -- otherwise, Dragan had no doubt they'd all be dead before the sun next set.

Nael Manron glared. "And what exactly do you want to discuss, kin of the Blindman?"

Dragan didn't blink, didn't look away, didn't break his gaze when faced with the animosity practically blasting from Manron's eyes. Instead, he simply steepled his fingers together as he lounged in his chair, smile already opening into a grin.

"How about we get somewhere a little more private?" he asked, the eyes of the camp upon him. "This whole thing might get a little embarrassing for you."

----------------------------------------

Nael wasn't sure exactly what he'd expected from a space alien, only that it wasn't quite this.

The stories he'd read as a child -- Yuno Balda and the Last Lunatics -- had consistently portrayed aliens as tentacled beasts from the moon, only intelligent enough to beg for mercy as the protagonist cut them down. He'd spent many fun nights in his attic bedroom back then, waving a stick around as he imagined he was the World Knight Balda himself.

That had been fantasy, however. Any time he'd actually considered the idea of alien life, he'd assumed that anything not of this world would be adapted for such a different environment so as to be unrecognisable.

And yet a space alien was now sitting across from him -- and apart from the lack of reachers and the bright blue eyes that sent a shiver down his spine, it was familiar as could be. A human being in all but slightest variation.

To be perfectly honest, he was sort of disappointed.

Their group had moved into his personal command tent, he and the blue-eyed boy sitting across from each other at the long table usually used for war meetings with his lieutenants. The rest of their respective entourages stood protectively at their sides, Grena's hand on Nael's shoulder.

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The meaning of her slight squeeze was clear. Should I kill them? Nael gave a tiny, barely perceptible shake of his head. No, he wanted to hear what they had to say. The life of a comrade was at risk, and this could be a source of useful intelligence.

The blue-eyed boy was the first to speak. "So I have a couple of questions before we get started."

Nael lifted a hand, interrupting him. "I'm sure you do. But first I have a question for you."

"Shoot," the boy said.

Nael furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry?"

"Go ahead."

Well, he talked like a space alien, at least. "You identified yourself as the leader of the resistance when you came to my camp. Last I heard, the leader of the rebels was a girl named Lily Aubrisher. Either you are a liar, or something has happened while my gaze was elsewhere."

Silence lingered over the table for a few seconds -- interrupted only by a nervous cough from one of the rebels -- before the blue-eyed boy spoke. "That's not a question," he said quietly, smile still lingering on his lips.

So they were going to be playing games with their words. How very irritating. "I see," Nael said. "Then let me rephrase -- where is Lily Aubrisher?"

The boy replied without missing a beat. "Dead. I challenged her for control of the resistance, we fought, and I ended up slicing her head off. I'm lying, by the way." Even without that last addition, Nael could have guessed as much from the surprised expressions on the blue-eyed boy's fellows.

"So when you said you were the leader of the resistance…"

"That was a lie too, yes," the boy replied -- even with his deception exposed, there were no traces of shame on his face or in his voice. "I wanted to see how you'd react."

Nael blew out air through his nose. "And how did I fare?"

The blue eyes narrowed. "That's confidential. My turn."

"Your turn?"

"To ask a question," the boy replied, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. "I answered yours, so it's only fair that you answer mine, right?"

Nael exchanged glances with Grena. This boy was obviously playing games, dancing through words as if he were dodging knives. He wasn't the sort of person you could speak to carelessly.

And yet he couldn't just surrender. "I'd say that rather depends on the question," Nael said.

"What's wrong with my eyes?" the boy frowned.

He didn't even know? If he didn't, what had tipped him off? Nael had been careful not to give out any information through his body language.

"What do you mean?" Nael said. "Your eyes seem fine to me. Are you having difficulty seeing?"

The boy clicked his tongue. "You're not very good at this, Regulator. You're very conspicuously not looking at my eyes -- when I speak, an ordinary person would turn to look at the source of the noise -- my face, and from there it's natural for them to look me in the eye, even if just for a second. But you're looking more towards my jaw, below my mouth, so that doesn't happen. So there's something about my eyes that makes you uncomfortable and you don't want me to know about it. What is it?"

Nael blinked. From what he understood, this boy didn't possess a Guardian Entity, and yet he'd clearly just read his mind. Deduction he could understand, of course, but such accuracy based on so little input?

It was unnatural.

The boy wasn't done yet. "If you refuse to answer, by the way, you're still providing the outlines for the answer. It's easy enough for me to colour in the full picture after that, given time and information. You should understand that based on what I've just said. So not answering my question accomplishes nothing. Easy for everyone if you just tell me. Yeah?"

Nael cleared his throat. As disconcerting this sudden shift in the conversation's pace was, Nael couldn't deny the boy had a point. It was irritating to lose control of the conversation, but if he was to get this hostage out alive he had to play along -- even just a little.

Childhood stories bubbled to the surface of his mind as he spoke. "It's said that -- before his fall from grace -- the Blindman had eyes of blazing blue. But he rejected the kindness of the gods and tore them from his skull. Those eyes mark you as a devil of the same kind."

The two young resistance members flanking the boy paled -- no doubt they'd heard similar stories in their own youths. Even if they opposed the Regulators, that didn't mean their fear had completely vanished. Grena, on the other hand, didn't budge an inch -- the forest folk had their own strange beliefs, after all.

The boy blinked. "I see," he said, with a tone that suggested something inside his head had just clicked. "That's very interesting. I don't believe I've introduced myself -- my name is Dragan Hadrien."

Nael scoffed. "With the way you've conducted yourself thus far, I very much doubt you're telling me the truth right now."

"Believe what you want," Dragan Hadrien shrugged. "It's the only name you'll ever know me by, so I don't see how it makes any difference whether it's actually my name or not. The point is, I'm willing to negotiate for the return of our hostage. It'd be inconvenient if he died without the opportunity to pass on his Guardian Entity, right?"

Grena's hand tightened on Nael's shoulder as he himself felt slick surprise spike through his throat. That was not something an outsider should have known about. Nael had served the Regulators for many years before he'd been given the details of Guardian Entity inheritance.

Deception abandoned him as he spluttered out: "H-How…?!"

Hadrien grinned. "How'd I know the Guardian Entities are passed down? Let's just say I have a better understanding of how godsblood works than your average joe. Once you understand the principles of recording, it's pretty easy to work out the rest."

Nael's fists tightened on the table in front of him. "And what do you intend to do with that information?"

"I haven't decided yet," Hadrien leaned back in his chair. "It would be awfully annoying for you guys if I sent someone out to leak that info to the public. Suddenly everyone would be going after individual Regulators, trying to have a Guardian Entity passed down to them -- maybe they'd even try to steal them, I couldn't say. Once things switch from a spiritual point of view to something that can be bartered for, I'd imagine this planet would become very, very interesting to watch."

For a second, it looked like Hadrien was going to smugly put his feet up on the table, but his legs could not muster the effort and fell back down to the floor.

"Unless," Nael said quietly. "We simply killed you now. That knowledge would then die with you, wouldn't it?"

Tension settled over the room like frozen air, holding each of them in place. Steadily, Nael reached out for Shamichoro with his mind -- at this distance, he'd be able to snap Hadrien's neck with it within a second of manifestation.

Hadrien smirked smugly.

----------------------------------------

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Dragan's heart hammered in his chest.

Six Gemini Shotguns were invisibly primed, the stones Dragan had had Bruno hurl at him aimed directly at Manron's skull. From what he'd observed, the inhabitants of this planet used Aether only to use these Guardian Entities -- infusion of their own bodies was beyond them.

As such, it would be very very easy to blow Nael Manron's head off right now. He could eliminate Manron, then fire whatever Shotguns were left at his mysterious bodyguard. Even if he missed that second shot, Bruno and Serena were more than capable of eliminating her.

But there was no guarantee Manron wasn't thinking the exact same thing, his Guardian Entity a second away from manifesting. If he didn't play his cards right, this situation would develop into an outright massacre.

He opened his mouth. It was dry.

"Of course," he said, with all the slimy confidence he could muster. "That would mean the death of your hostage."

The tension didn't even crack. Nael's eyes remained fixed on Dragan's. "I assume, then, that you have an alternative proposal."

This man was much more understanding than he'd been led to believe.

Dragan nodded. "Two days. You give us two days to prepare our surrender -- to ensure the safety of our noncombatants -- and we'll give him back unharmed. You have my word on that."

Behind his back, Dragan Hadrien crossed his fingers.