Jylik sat at his desk, drumming his fingers on the living wooden surface. He should be out expanding Astralbian territory or subduing one of the local populations on the various worlds that had grown weary of Astralbian dominion. Instead, left with nothing better to do, he sat waiting for a communication he was increasingly sure would never come. His father was stuck in the past, but in all the wrong ways. He held onto traditions, he held onto myths like the Cornucopia Cluster, but he failed to hold on to the dream of the Empire’s return to power. One day, not nearly soon enough, he would take the throne. The Republic and all the other worms of the galaxy would rue the day he rose to power.
His daydream was rudely interrupted.
“Hello. This is your mysterious benefactor,” said the now-familiar voice. “I have some new information for you.”
***
Far away, on Kir147-WB1.08, Vanbrook marched with Talon Squad, Hrake, and the rest of the procession to the king’s palace. The building was one of the few that was more than two stories high. It was three at the lowest, with one tower boasting a full five levels plus an upper deck with battlements for slingers to hide behind. A complement of six guards stood at the entrance, wearing bronze plate armor and holding massive hammers similar to the one Hrake carried but with larger heads. They each carried a short sword and a short-handled hammer ax on either hip. A seventh guard stepped out of the entrance and walked up to Rehkna, using his hammer as a walking stick rather than brandishing it. He was taller than the others, and his helmet was adorned with the same shining black stones that Rehkna wore. A sash of bright orange leather adorned his breastplate. He went to one knee before the shaman, then stood.
He spoke calmly in the same hoarse, hissing language that Hrake used. Rehkna looked annoyed. She responded in a tone that could be universally recognized; that of an exasperated mother. Vanbrook suspected the massive guard was not actually the shaman’s child, but the dynamic of the relationship was clear.
***
Hrake shook his head. The king refused to see the visitors. He wasn’t sure how they would react. Thus far they had been peaceful, but he and Rehkna had done all they could to be kind and accommodating. If they could make a metal box like the shuttle fly through the heavens as though they were driving a simple chariot over the dunes, he shuddered to think what they could do in their wrath.
“Hrynkak,” he said, addressing the guard. “Cousin. If your father won’t see our visitors, I humbly request that he would see me, so I may deliver the gifts they bring him, tell him of the omen I saw, and tell him what Gevrok and his brothers have done in his name.”
Hrynkak paused, thinking.
“What has Gevrok done?” he asked at length.
“Due respect, cousin, but the matter is delicate. I would prefer to speak of it with the king,” said Hrake.
“Very well,” he responded. “That must wait, I’m afraid, while we address the matter of the gods you brought to our gates.”
Hrake shook his head. “They claim they are not gods, but mere travelers of the heavens.”
“Who can travel the heavens but the gods?” asked Hrynkak.
“I have been puzzling over the same riddle, cousin,” answered Hrake.
“Give me the gifts. I will see that the King receives them. Please take these… travelers… to my palace. I cannot force my father to see them, but I will give them as godly a welcome as I am able to under my own authority.”
“You are wise, cousin,” said Hrake, handing Hrynkak the crate of gifts. “Thank you.”
***
Vanbrook watched the gifts exchange hands, concerned by the hold up. He was about to ask what was going on when the shaman woman’s voice sounded in his mind, even as she dismissed the guards and elders who’d accompanied them, and the party descended back down the stairs of the palace.
I told you the king is a fool. He’s refusing to see you, but the crown prince will welcome you into his home for now. There, we will talk more freely. I hope to learn much from you.
Vanbrook looked towards the old turtle. She was stoic. There was no telling by looking at her that she had spoken.
We hope that we can learn much from you, as well.
This time the voice was D’Jarric’s. Vanbrook shook his head, not sure he liked having his mind be part of some kind of open comms channel.
***
Jasken paced the bridge while he waited for Prime Minister Skritka to answer. Discovering a new race of sapients was always a headache. Not that he resented them, just that they required a lot of paperwork and diplomacy.
Skritka’s pointed face appeared on the screen before Jasken. He was a Talpidarian male with a thin build and a pointed goatee, wearing perfunctory Griffonian formalwear. As the Griffon Republic’s head of state, he was Jasken’s point of contact for major events - such as the discovery of new sapients.
“Admiral,” he said in a mild voice, “you reported a new sapient species on Kir147-WB1.08?”
“Yes, Prime Minister. A biological race of humanoid reptilians. Strong similarities to turtles. Evidently strong and a little over six feet tall on average. They’ve achieved bronze smithing, and are accomplished stonesmiths and carpenters.”
“Do we have a name for their species?” asked Skritka.
“No,” replied Jasken, “but Talon Squad has delivered the gift package to a king of some kind. We don’t know how much of the planet he controls.”
“Was the king amiable?”
Jasken smoothed his mustache. “Not particularly. He declined to see them. However, the crown prince and the head elder have been more hospitable. They’re being housed at the crown prince’s palace for now.”
“Alright. Anything else of note?”
“They appear to believe D’Jarric is a god, much to his chagrin.”
Skritka laughed. “Of course they do. I’ll relay the information to the Houses of Parliament - this time. If and when the king deigns to communicate with us, I’ll expect you to be by his side. Goodbye, Admiral.”
“Understood, Prime Minister. All other information gathered, including transcripts and images, will be filed along with the first contact report immediately. Jasken out.”
***
Down below, Rehkna had gathered Hrake and Talon Squad in Hrynkak’s palace. They were greeted by Hrynkak’s wife, Grehi, and their two children, Hrakna and Hrip. The children each held wooden hammers modeled after the Hrudukite’s preferred weapons, but scaled down for the youngsters. Hrip, the younger of the two and a male, waved his toy hammer menacingly at their guests while Hrakna, his older sister, rolled her eyes and pulled him back by the elbow. Vanbrook smiled at the little terror and his sister as they entered. Grehi dipped her head gracefully.
Welcome, honored guests, she said with Rehkna’s help. I will lead you to the courtyard and leave you to your business. Please let the servants know if they can be of help in any way.
The courtyard was planted with a multitude of beautiful, if somewhat wilted, blooming trees and plants of every imaginable shade and texture. Raivyn could only imagine how much more beautiful and vibrant the space would be if not for the drought. A stone path from each of the four walls wound through the gardens and the center was paved with a circle of stones, nearly ten feet in diameter.
Rehkna strode to the center of the courtyard and sat at the edge of the circle, facing inward. She motioned for the others to join her. When all seven had sat, Rehkna began.
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When I was a child, I was visited by one of the gods. Like the gods of old, this being looked as we do, with scale and shell, but with skin like yours, D’Jarric. This god told me that one day five travelers would come to Hruduk from the heavens, and would bear the truth. Now that day has come. Tell me, travelers, what truth do you bear?
The truth of the Progenitor, good shaman, answered D’Jarric. There is no god but him. We call him the Progenitor. He created all, both living and inert; both god and mortal.
Then he created the gods that visited my ancestors, and the one who visited me, and you? asked the shaman.
Yes, answered D’Jarric again. I am a Solaran, a being of energy dwelling in a star. The image you see before you is my avatar; my true form is many, many miles from here. I suspect the gods who visited you once before were of my kind, but had rebelled against the Progenitor. A war was waged against such, and if they have disappeared it is because they were banished by the Progenitor himself. The messenger who visited you I can only guess at, as I am not aware of any such message, nor did I know of your people until now. None know all, save the Progenitor, even among the Solarans.
I see, responded Rehkna. Hrake, you saw the omen of the shuttle, what do you make of it?
It is the sign of a new age, replied the warrior. An age in which we must follow the teachings of this Progenitor, who promised us this truth; a promise entrusted to you by his messenger many years ago.
You are wise, Hrake, said Rehkna. Wise indeed. And I give you this quest: travel with these travelers, if they will have you. Learn from them all you can.
We will have him, said D’Jarric.
Woah, woah, woah, interjected Vanbrook. We’re gonna have to clear that with Jasken.
Jasken? asked Rehkna. Does he speak for the Progenitor?
Not exactly, said Raivyn. He is in command of our expedition.
There are more of you? asked Hrake.
Yes, answered Raivyn. Many more. Many on this expedition, and many more on other worlds, much like… what did you call your world? Hruduk?
Yes, Hruduk. And if this Jasken allows, I will see these worlds? asked Hrake. There was an urgency in his voice that carried no anxiousness.
Some, I suppose, answered D’Jarric. We are looking for new worlds, I could not tell you for certain what we will find.
Reclan and Doc Manford, you have not spoken. What do you have to say? asked the shaman.
Nothing, I guess? answered Relcan. Something nudged her, like a psychic kick to the chin from Raivyn. She looked up to see the psychic eying her with expectant sternness. Um, we’re happy to be here? Thanks for the warm welcome.
Little to say, said Doc brokenly. Psychic speak not work well for me.
Perhaps your helmet blocks the tethers? asked Rehkna.
No helmet, answered Doc. Construct.
Doc is what we call a “Robot,” clarified Raivyn. He is constructed of metal and powered by electricity.
Rehkna laughed aloud. Truly the universe is bigger and more full of wonder than we could ever know.
A servant entered the courtyard.
“The king will see Hrake and elder Rehkna now,” she said in Hrudukite.
“Then we will go to him,” sighed Hrake. “Though I take it the others are not to come with me?”
The servant shook her head.
***
Out of respect for her authority, Hrake let Rehkna lead as they marched to the throne room. She was silent, and he dared not interrupt her thoughts.
Hrynkak met them at the solid bronze door to the throne room, shuffling anxiously.
"My father will try to kill you, Hrake," he said in a low voice. "He has grown paranoid in his old age. He is convinced you seek to overthrow him."
"You know my heart, Cousin," replied Hrake. "And if I die, I die knowing that I did no wrong to deserve it, and knowing more about the heavens than any before me, save Rehkna. That is a life well lived."
"You are brave and bold as ever, Cousin," replied Hrynkak. "It may be those qualities which seal your fate, but perhaps you should be king instead of my Father or I."
"The throne is yours, Crown Prince Hrynkak, and gods- no- Progenitor willing, I will see you in it some day."
Hrynkak cocked a scaly eyebrow under his helmet. "It sounds as though we have much to discuss, Cousin, when time allows.
"Sadly, this is where I leave you. Father has me watching the palace gate."
"Then watch it faithfully," commended Hrake.
Hrynkak nodded and turned to go, marching obediently to the gate. No sooner had he done so than the bronze door before Hrake and Rhenka swung open, revealing the King's inner court.
King Zrykyk sat on a throne of wood and bronze built on top of a stone dias inlaid with bronze and black stone. He was at once both fat and withered, his bony limbs hung with loose, puffy skin, and heavy bags fell from under the graying eyes sunk into his skeletal face. Behind him was a bronze relief featuring a gold-plated Hrudukite male with up-raised arms, a black lighting bolt arcing between his hands; Skyfire, the god of cataclysms. Smaller, similar images of the other gods, such as Pitmaw, the god of death and Earthseed, the goddess of harvests, surrounded Skyfire’s seal. On either side of the throne, in less ornate chairs, sat the elders, though the seat to Zrykyk's right hand, where Rehkna should have sat, was empty.
Rehkna dipped her head and Hrake went to one knee, each of them showing proper respect to their king according to their station.
"You called us, my lord, and we answered," said Rehkna. "May I be so bold as to ask why you would see your us, rather than your exalted guests? They have many exciting things to tell you."
"You may not be so bold, though I expect you shall be. You took it upon yourself to meet the gods when I urged patience. Now my elders have told me what these gods would say, and I will not hear you gainsay them!"
"Oh?" asked Rehkna. "And what do these travelers, whom you have not deigned to see, say?"
“Elders?” asked Zrykyk.
Rehkna turned her withering gaze on the gathered elders, but they would not meet her eyes.
“The gods have said that Hrake dishonored them by boarding their chariot,” said Rukyk, one of the elders who had joined Rehkna in greeting the travelers.
“They said no such thing,” said Rehkna. “I have held council with them; you have not.”
“So you say,” said the King. “But why would I trust you, since you have allied yourself with Hrake, the usurper?”
“King Zrykyk, I am no usurper,” said Hrake. “And the elders are simply feeding you the lies you want to hear. Perhaps it was they who sent Gevrok and his brothers to kill me, approaching the Seat of Fire by chariot? It is them and those like them who dishonor the gods. Cast them out and listen to Rehkna. She brings a revelation that overshadows any dispute over the throne.”
“So you admit you dispute the throne?” said Zrykyk.
Rehkna slammed the end of her hammer-staff on the stone floor.
“You old fool!” she declared. “You abandon reason in pursuit of power. Your paranoia will not be your salvation, but your downfall!”
“Worst of all, Hrake, you insulted the gods by destroying their gift.” With this, the king reached into the crate sitting by the throne, took the shell harp, and threw it to the ground at Hrake’s feet, where it shattered.
Hrake shook his head in open disgust. “Who will dare bear witness that I did this thing?”
The elders stood, one at a time, in acknowledgement that they would bear such witness.
“Then I stand condemned,” said Hrake, struggling to keep his voice even in the face of injustice. “Only, grant me this: trial by ordeal. Tell me what symbol of the old gods I must face. If I can slay it, then the Progenitor has seen fit to save me; if I cannot, then these elders speak the truth.” He snorted his contempt, his nostrils flaring.
“Who is this Progenitor?” asked the King, his eyes darting back and forth between the shaman and the warrior.
“He is the one true creator and god, whom the travelers have come to tell us of,” said Rehkna. “The visions of my youth have come to fruition in my final years.”
“So you bring me betrayal and blasphemy. I grant you your ordeal, Hrake. But it will be for Rehkna’s fate, as well.”
“Not only that,” said Hrake, “but for the throne as well.”
“The truth comes out!” exclaimed the King.
“Not for me, but for your son, who is fit to rule! You have become a cruel, paranoid old man! If you will not step down of your own free will, step down in keeping with the will of the gods!”
“SO BE IT!” raged Zrykyk. His jowls shook and his graying eyes bulged in their sockets. “Elder Rukyk! Write down the terms! If Hrake survives, he is pardoned along with Rehkna and my son inherits the throne immediately. If he dies, so do Rehkna and Hrynkak! The ordeal will be the slaying of the Roach Lord of the Mountains of Wasting, the servant of Pitmaw, who shall bear witness with the other gods. Do you accept, Hrake?”
Hrake clenched his fist around the hilt of his hammer. The king had turned the challenge on him. He did not fear the Roach Lord, but loathed to bet Hrynkak’s life without his knowledge. He hated to think what Grehi’s fate would be if her husband was executed. She would be thrown out of Hrynkak’s palace, to be sure, and would have to raise their children alone, shunned by the populace. However, rejecting the challenge now would simply lead to the summary execution of himself, Rehkna, and Hrynkak.
He raised his head, looking into the King’s eyes. “I accept.”