Flann’s tail swished slowly through the air as he watched the humans as they eased themselves into another argument. The Points-Delver Alliance – or more simply, the Alliance – was theoretically under command of the Points’ High Speaker. That was what the humans had told him and Jan, but the High Speaker seemed to spend more time wheedling and arguing than actually commanding.

Probably why they call him the Speaker, Flann thought with an amused twitch of his whiskers.

The High Speaker was a tall man with steely gray hair and a bush of a beard growing from his angular face. He had more wrinkles on his face than James or Beth, so Flann thought that he was an older human, although he wasn’t certain if wrinkles a sign of age in humans, or if they were just naturally variable like their skin tones.

Although he was currently listing everything that had been going wrong in their war with Technis – an unfortunately lengthy list – his temperament was generally calm and friendly. He had even spent a morning dining with Flann, Jan, and Cleisthenes clods when they had first met, introducing himself as Daren Cove and inviting them to speak casually. They had chatted about the Golden Plains until their food grew cold and lunch was served. Jann had been convinced that Beth’s promise of good relations between their two peoples was actually realistic.

Cleisthenes had spent the entire time complaining that the cups used by the humans were too small, but Flann and Jan were happy to ignore him.

Since that day though, Flann had never heard anyone addressing the High Speaker by his name. They called him High Speaker or commander and spoke in rushed, worried tones. It was easy to see that the Alliance was doing poorly against Technis’ forces.

The Speaker’s second in command, a dark-skinned man named Governor Blake nodded along with the words of the High Speaker, adding small details to his commander’s complains as he saw fit. The man’s expressionless face could have been chiseled from rock, but during battle he became as animated as a raging inferno. He had challenged Cleisthenes to battle almost as soon as they met and had easily bested the Hippo. Cleisthenes had been avoiding Governor Blake since, slowly nursing his wounded pride. From his performance during the spar, Flann guessed that either Blake or his commander were a match for Hanti or anyone else in the Golden Plains.

The leaders of the delvers though, were even tougher. They were lead by a man named Rock. Flann assumed his name was a reference to his stubbornness, although he wasn’t sure how names worked with the human society. The man’s body had enough thick scars to form a second skin, and each blemish was decorated with tattoos to celebrate his victory over whatever had wounded him. Like all delvers, the man was pale from his time underground and avoided going into the sunlight. That worked out well, as the majority of his work was done at night, carrying out hit and run attacks on Technis’ supply lines and encampments.

The delver’s face screamed impatience, and Flann was glad that his two subordinates, a stocky woman named Fish and a tall, thin man named Dave, weren’t around. They had a bad habit of interrupting the High Speaker, which usually resulted in meetings that lasted three times as long as they would have otherwise. Rock would still argue, but he would at least allow the Speaker to finish talking before disagreeing with everything he said. If the old fox hadn’t already gotten to know James and Beth, he would have assumed that humans were incapable of working together without screaming.

Flann suppressed a yawn, already anticipating another long, drawn out conversation. He slipped his paws under the table and summoned several tiny beads of fire, which he set to dancing across his knuckles.

Jan quietly kicked Flann’s foot, and he tilted his nose towards the humans.

Flann grinned apologetically and dismissed his little sparks. His mind had been wandering off again, and the High Speaker was apparently wrapping up.

“To summarize: the safety of our citizens must be prioritized,” the man proclaimed, his deep voice making the simple statement sound like something profound. “The plan to evacuate them into the Golden Plains has merit, and we will support it.”

Rock rolled his neck, filling the silence with the popping of his joints. “I can talk now, yeah?”

Blake’s unblinking glare settled upon the delver, but the High Speaker nodded his assent.

“Yeah, look, rescuing the civilians is all well and good. Maybe it’ll even make fighting simpler if we don’t hafta worry about them getting killed. But, here’s the thing: we delvers aren’t so easily sorted like you city people.”

Rock thumped his chest. “Me, I’m first generation, I stole Technis’ bread and they threw me into the tunnels. I was trained to fight in the gangs, and I’ve spent every day since then in a fight. So I’m a combatant, yeah?”

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He paused for a moment to allow dissent, but no one interrupted.

“Now let’s talk about Fish,” he continued, referring to his second in command. “She’s third generation, born in the darkness, hasn’t lived any other life. She fights how she was taught, because if you don’t fight you don’t survive, but she does womanly shit too – helpin’ with childbirth, protectin’ and trainin’ the children, you know – so is she a civilian or a fighter? Who gets to decide?”

He waved his hands at his counterparts from the Points. “You get what I’m sayin’? Civilians get to escape, fighters have to fight and die. There’s gonna be fightin’ over who’s who.”

Blake leaned forward slightly and spoke with a voice like two rocks rubbing together. “You cannot make that decision for your people?”

Rock laughed. “Crows! I’m not even sure how many delvers we’ve got! How can I make a decision for each one?”

Flann was getting tired again, so he leaned forward to speak, ready to inject some common-sense into the conversation. Jan quickly put a restraining hand on his arm, stopping him short. Flann’s tail swished with annoyance, attracting everyone’s attention anyway. Luckily for him, he was saved from any embarrassment by a latecomer to the meeting.

“Forgive me for my tardiness,” the woman said with a hoarse voice that sounded like a fragile instrument strung with the hardest steel. “Communing with the goddess left me with much to consider.”

The woman’s voice was hoarse from a wound and her face and upper body were covered in old burns. Flann had learned that her injuries had accumulated while she journeyed around Satrap, doing Lempo’s work. She did little to hide them, proudly displaying the sacrifices she had made in her goddess’ name. Her unashamed display of her disabilities gave Lempo’s high priestess a certain amount of respect wherever she went, and, most importantly to Flann, her presence also managed to significantly shorten most meetings.

Rock stood from his seat and bowed to the woman. “Priestess Warrenier,” he greeted her. He waited until she inclined her head back before bowing to the priestess’ assistant.

“Priest Toll.”

The second priest bowed in return before pulled out a chair for Priestess Warrenier. Rock waited to take his seat as the woman slowly lowered herself into the chair. Flann’s own joints creaked in sympathy as he watched her shift through several uncomfortable poses before finally resting on the chair.

“Forgive my theatrics, gentlemen, but some of my pieces are feeling ornery tonight,” she joked.

The High Speaker cleared his throat. “High Priestess. You are already familiar with the demi-humans’ proposal. We agree that evacuation of our civilians to the Golden Plains makes sense, in theory, but we are discussing how to fairly choose who among the delvers is a civilian and may justifiably abandon the fight here.”

Warrenier nodded her head, the tassels on her tall gray hat swaying at the motion. “I see. Correct me if I am mistaken, but the second part of the plan is to launch an all-out attack upon Baytown by sea, in order to threaten Technis’ forces along the Spine. They will need to turn to us or risk with a loss of their supply lines. This will allow the warrior of the Golden Plains to launch an unexpected pincer attack.”

“That is the ultimate goal, yes.”

She shrugged. “You do not have enough boats to transport everyone. Simply fill the boats with our best fighters and evacuate the rest.”

Governor Blake shook his head. “Forgive my bluntness priestess, but you forget that we must also maintain an adequate force to defend our cities.”

“Why bother?” the priestess replied. “This is a war for survival, Governor. I know that you are attached to your city, but a city without its people is just an intersting pile of stone. If we fail to take Baytown then your cities will fall, and if we succeed in toppling Technis then the cities will still be waiting patiently for your return.”

The High Speaker frowned. “That is a drastic measure, priestess.”

She smiled back. “These are desperate times, High Speaker. We must put our full faith in Lempo and her plans.”

“Aye,” Rock asserted, “I agree with Warrenier. We Delvers have never had a city, and we’re no worse for it. Having a safe place to send our young and infirm is a boon.”

The High Speaker looked at the delver, his eyes inspecting the man’s scars displayed by his cleanly shaved head and face. He stroked his own beard for a moment, and Flann noticed that his face was marred only with lines from age and not a single scar. He didn’t seem to Flann like a man who would enjoying living without a city’s luxuries.

“If’n I could add something,” Jan said, choosing that moment to speak. “Yer city is already in need of changin’, what with all the spearheads flyin’ about now that Technis dropped his Barrier. There’s also those giant spine-backed monsters swimmin’ into your wharfs. Who knows when somethin’ really dangerous, like a ship of elves or a giant kraken, will show up.”

Jan tilted his head at Flann. “The two of us have plenty of experience with the monsters from Atmos, and you haven’t seen the worst of ’em yet. It’s just off of yer east coast too, so maybe you’ll get far worse than we’ve seen in the Golden Plains since yer so close. For all we know, the coastal cities may not be habitable much longer.”

High Speaker Cove frowned. “It is true that the flying creatures have been… troublesome. But I doubt that anything would render our cities unlivable.”

Warrenier tapped the table to get everyone’s attention so she didn’t have to raise her overworked voice. “Change is inevitable, High Speaker. It is not something we can fight.”

The governor opened his mouth to speak, but the High Speaker cut his off with a tilt of his hand. “This would be a great sacrifice for my people, priestess. Will you take a more active role in these coming battles to ensure their success?”

Flann’s tail twitched. The humans were always looking a cut a deal, always willing to give up something if they could get something in return. Flann couldn’t help but think that the High Speaker was a good leader.

The old priestess smiled. “Of course. In fact, I believe that Lempo’s child herself will be returning to us soon. She will bring with her enough change to topple Technis for good.”

Flann perked up at the thought. He’d felt bad about leaving her behind, and was eager to see how she was doing.