"Rize?"

"Yes dad?"

"While we are in here, I expect you to be on the best behavior." Kilm adjusted his cap as he spoke to his son. "I don't just mean you should be minding your manners, you should be thinking about every single thing you do. Your movements, your breathing, even your stance, all of those are things you should be thinking about when you are in that room."

"W-why?" Rize nervously looked up towards his father, who was staring intently at the door.

"The Marshall is . . . a bit of a tyrant. He isn't a bad person, quite the opposite, but because of his station and history he tends to expect everyone to be the ideal soldier. In there, I have no authority, and you do not belong to yourself. If he asks you to do something, do it."

"But what if-"

"No questions - I mean it." Kilm looked down towards Rize. He wasn't angry, but there was an desperate calm in his expression. This was probably the scariest he had ever seen his father, afraid of someone else. "If he says something, listen. If he tells you to do something, do it without question. If he hits you, take it in stride. You do not oppose him, you do not question him, you do not resist him. He won't do anything inherently unfair, but he will absolutely take action if you step out of line, am I understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. Now, you are to remain silent until addressed from this moment on. Is that clear?"

Rize nodded, prompting his father to close his eyes and take a deep breath before knocking on the door. It was a hard and dense wood, darker in color than the surrounding walls, and it made a sound closer to metal when his knuckles rapped on it's surface. In short order a voice from inside responded, muffled slightly by the door.

"Am I correct in assuming this is Kilm?"

"Yes sir!"

A moment of silence, likely the result of the Marshall clearing something off of his desk. "Please come in."

Kilm did not keep his superior waiting, but he didn't rush. He opened the door as one normally would, discreetly waving his son through, before stepping in and closing the door behind them. "Reservist Kilm, reporting to the Marshall."

The Marshall didn't even look up from his desk, still rubbing his chin while looking over a document. "Two? Oh, I recall she said something about that. . ." he mumbled a bit, but still didn't formally address them. "Please take a seat gentlemen. We are still waiting on six more."

Kilm acknowledged with a bow, Rize shakily following his father's actions, before moving to sit on one of the couches. Even though it was soft, the two of them kept their backs straight and stared blankly ahead. A minute passed before the Marshall put down the sheet of parchment he was analyzing and began to peruse another.

"Would the two of you like something to drink?"

"I'll have a water, sir."

"I would like some fruit juice."

"Fruit juice?" Sweat started forming on Rize's back. "I suppose that's fine." With that, the Marshall rung a bell, and a Skwiven ran in through one of the holes in the top of the wall near the ceiling. "One tea, one water, and one fruit juice."

The Skwiven squeaked a bit.

"Do you have a preference for which fruit juice?"

"A sweeter fruit, if that's possible."

The Marshall turned back to the Skwiven. "You heard the boy. I would also like to put in a request for some snacks. I know you are aware of who is on the way, so the selection is up to you. I would like the drinks first though."

The Skwiven squeaked out a salute before turning back to the hole it came from. Just as it left, there was another knock on the door.

"Please enter."

"Pardon the intrusion." An elderly man closed the door behind him, in his other hand a satchel with a few scrolls.

"Navigator, I see you are doing well."

"And you don't look a day over sixty!" The Navigator wore a smile across his face as he moved towards another one of the couches. "Might I be able to set up my maps on the table?"

"I had just requested some food and beverage, so I would wait until we finished eating."

"Ah, of course." The Navigator set his satchel down and turned to greet the other two in the room. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am the Navigator." He extended a wrinkly hand

"Kilm, the pleasure is mine."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Rize."

"How long until the-"

knock knock knock

"Come in."

Two more people entered. Both of them carrying bags full of files.

"Merchant. I trust you found the relevant documents?" By nature of his station, the Captain was not to be greeted. He was uninvited, despite his presence in this meeting being a known factor, because he was not acting in an official capacity.

"Of course. I would not dare to make a mistake at this point in time." He began to hastily sift through one of his little document holders, taking a few of them out and handing them to the Marshall. "Look those over when you get the time. I would like to know if we will have sufficient materiel reserves after the transfer is complete."

The Marshall scanned the first one carefully, his eyebrows slowly raising in surprise. "Did they really ask for so much?"

"That didn't even cover two thirds of what they needed, the Holifanians had to pick up the slack so we didn't dip into our emergency reserves."

"That stockpile of iron was supposed to last a minimum of one hundred years under wartime standards. . ."

"Incredible, I know, but apparently they've already used close to a year's worth and they haven't even got the entirety of their smelting capacity online." The Merchant let his rectangular leather bag rest beside the table while he crashed down onto a chair. "I haven't been out to see it yet, but apparently the platform they have started building is quite something."

"I will have to go check it out, but are we certain that giving them this much was a good idea? I know we can smelt down broken blades to some degree, but the blacksmiths say it makes weaker and rougher swords. How long would it take to bring us back to our previous levels?"

"Five years if we spend heavy, but you can imagine I would like to avoid that. My current plan has us return to the old stockpile in fifty years if we continue to consume at our current rate."

". . . I'll see what I can do about consumption, so keep your plan in place." The Marshall scratched his head. "Still, one hundred years of iron? In two weeks?"

knock knock knock

"Come in."

Two more people entered, and elderly woman and a lanky man.

"Good afternoon Marshall."

"Good evening, Librarian. Greetings to you as well, Scholar." The Marshall put down the material reserves report. "I trust the department transfer has been going well?"

"It has had it's difficulties, though I am pleased to say there has not been any outstanding issues as of yet. You ran a tight ship, despite how overstretched you were."

"Many thanks for the compliment, though I am ashamed to admit that the ship was not as orderly as I came to believe. Is there anything else you are in need of?"

"Nothing of note. We can discuss it at a later date." The Scholar silently moved to stand with the Captain in the corner of the room, waiting to be called forward.

"I see. Any word on when our Lady shall arrive?"

"Hmm." The Librarian rubbed her hands together to warm them as she moved towards her seat. "I imagine she has lost track of time. The last time I visited her she had quite a large swath of paper and ink set out in front of her. That said, she would never be so late as to make us wait."

"Naturally. I was only concerned she might have found herself doing something in our stead." A few Skwiven came out through the hole in wall, skittering down and setting up the food and drink for everyone. Despite their orders to bring out drinks first, they had clearly decided that presenting both simultaneously was a better idea.

Without warning, the door swung open.

"Pardon my intrusion." The Arboreal Maiden glided through the door in her normal attire. The blindfold was back on, of course, but she was still using split.

CHUNK

The door slammed shut, the product of her using a bit too much force.

"My apologies, but I have been in a bit of a foul mood considering the events of yesterday. I would politely ask you to ignore that."

The Grand Elders were already on the floor, kneeling. "We wouldn't dare, my lady!"

"Well, whatever the case I suppose we should get started." She walked to the table, standing in front of it as the leader of the discussion that would ensue. "Rize, your decision?"

She didn't bother to disguise the fact she had met with Rize at an earlier date, it wasn't like they could make a fuss about it in the first place. Being direct was the most efficient and effective course of action here, there was much to discuss. In following her instruction Rize rose to his feet, slowly and rigidly, before bowing slightly.

"My mother and I have decided that we will accept the slaves as compensation so long as they are not violent criminals."

"Very well. Captain, I expect you to take care of the arrangements for this matter. You can imagine that I do not want to get involved any further, right?" There was a hint of annoyance in her voice, Nemo had really pissed her off yesterday. "Anyway, your mother is probably going to be the benefactor of this particular deal, right?"

"Yes. Mother has plans to have them help handle her restaurant."

"Even the combat slave? I know he tried to kill you."

"Even during his assault, he expressed his unwillingness. My mother believes that he deserves a second chance at life, so she wants him to provide security in the absence of both my father and I."

"An excellent idea. Do take proper care of them." The Arboreal Maiden then turned address the rest of the room. "I believe that now is the proper time to ask the question, does Rize deserve to know what is about to happen in this room? He is already at least moderately aware of the Terrans' situation, and his father will be responsible for carrying out the operation planned to assist them."

"I see no issue." "He is fine." The Navigator and Librarian expressed their permission, while the Steward shrugged.

"I question his ability to keep a secret." The Marshall raised an objection.

"Do explain."

"What will happen if word of what we are doing spreads?"

"We have sufficient plausible deniability, not that I think it would matter much if we did. I can twist this into a charitable act of sorts, expressing our desire to prevent the needless loss of life in the wake of our failing the Terrans."

The Merchant raised a finger. "Would that not put us in a situation where we have to respond to all such catastrophes in the future?"

"That depends. Regardless, our capacity to perform humanitarian work like this is liable to greatly increase in the next hundred or so years. I'm sure I don't need to explain why?" The Arboreal Maiden was still in the midst of contemplating when it would be a good idea to advertise their involvement. She would like to have that sort of influence in the sphere of crisis resolution, it would help them shift into their desired role as a supporter for the Terrans, but revealing their involvement was just asking for a headache.

"Ah, yes. I suppose that would help." The Merchant understood her meaning, they could buy high capacity civilian vessels from the Terrans once they had a proper industrial base, though he still had reservations as to the efficacy of such rapidly built ships.

"Has that quashed your complaints, Marshall?"

"I still have my concerns, but I will trust that you have greater plans. Please continue."