---Cove---
---Emiko’s perspective---
Having followed the river, for around 1000km from Khawekh to where it finally met the East coast of Graom-Wakhkort’s supercontinent, we turned North and followed the coast.
The realm Khr’kowan is guiding us to, Wokhash, is the second largest in her father’s empire.
Apparently, having an alliance with Wokhash (leveraged by Khr’kowan’s mother returning home to demand it) is what allowed Khawekh’s rise to hegemony over the rest of the realms.
Its status as the empire’s second city necessitates its lord being the first to be informed of the current circumstances.
This region of the planet is much more arid looking than the lush, verdant lands around the capital.
The river’s channel cast an undulating line of green through the dry landscape but it’s only been scrub since we put the delta behind us.
Considering just how much meat Vrakhand require to sustain their large bodies and mesothermic metabolisms, you’d never guess that a city so large could survive here!
“There! Put us down atop that cliff…” instructs Khr’kowan, jabbing a thick, clawed finger towards a section of the coast, only distinguished by having a small river, tumbling over the side, forming a waterfall that pours down into a cove that I can’t see the bottom of.
Careful not to allow the city itself to get line of sight on us, Twila sets us down.
“If any local Twigg or Vrakhand come to investigate you, Twila…”
“Pretend to be an angry god to frighten them away(?)” she interrupts.
I give a mirthful sigh and answer “No… Whatever the opposite of pretending to be an angry god is, please(!)”
“Sooooo… a cheerful devil(?)” she quips.
“No, a completely mundane construction that does not talk, does not fly and cannot be opened for further investigation is what I would like you to pretend to be! We don’t want to start any more weird rumours than necessary!”
“Honestly… a building of entirely metal is only marginally less liable to start strange rumours than a building of entirely metal that speaks and proclaims itself a god.” observes Khr’kowan, dryly.
“Nevertheless, please behave!” I say, still addressing Twila before stepping off the craft onto the dry, dusty, seaside clifftop.
Twila is a moderate mischief maker… but I’m fairly confident she wouldn’t actually go as far as terrifying some poor local!
“They won’t be expecting anyone down the path we’ll have to walk. It’s fairly infeasible to arrive here over land, so the only ones who use this passage are locals. They will be surprised by me and unnerved by all of you… Please let me do the talking.” the General explains.
“Not a problem(!)” I chuckle back, tapping the translator at my temple to remind her of the fact that she’s the only one who can do the talking!
“Right… Obviously… I keep forgetting!” she sighs in answer.
She leads us to the head of a narrow canyon path, cut into the cliffs, which descends to the cove below.
Once we’ve been walking for a minute or two, we round a bend to see a barricade, blocking the pass.
Two women are stationed there, clearly in postures of relaxation.
There faces snap to Khr’kowan and they scramble to their feet, presenting their spears forward.
The uncomfortable bodylanguage of soldiers caught at repose while on duty is apparently universal(!)
Then, their sixteen eyes drift downward… and come to rest on the Humans present.
They stare at us with both confusion and consternation adorning their faces while they try and work out what they’re seeing.
One of them returns their attention to the General to ask “Khir thu ess?”
Unphased by the much smaller woman’s aggressive tone, she calmly answers “I am [General] Khr’kowan of the Khawekhan Realm, Daughter of Broodking Aghogh of the Khawekhan Realm and [General] Kvehak of this realm. I am here for an audience with my uncle and you will not obstruct me.” her tone less of a threat and more of a statement of fact!
The women waver for some moments before the one yet to speak gestures around the rest of us and asks “Iskh dukh ess…?” then up the path behind us “Hekh thu viha kivh dokh?”
Now allowing a hard edge into her voice, Khr’kowan hisses “Who these people are is not something it is proper to illuminate to you before I have explained it to [Lord] Khravash!… For now, you may simply think of them as honoured guests of the Khawekhan [Empire] and treat them with all the respect due to such!… As to how we arrived, that information is likewise something that I will need to discuss with my uncle before it can be further disseminated… Now, let us pass…”
Clearly uneasy, the women hold for another few moments before standing aside.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Wokhash mihar, Khawekhhor Vishhanx…” mumbles one, averting her eyes downward.
I do my best to look nonthreating as we pass them and walk beneath the entryway.
I feel the pair staring after us and hear their hushed whispering in rapid Vrakhandic, as soon as they think we’re out of earshot.
A minute or two after being allowed through the gate we get our first look at the city proper.
It’s… like something from a fantasy novel!
Sheer cliffs loom overhead on all sides other than seaward.
The waterfall I saw the top of as we landed looks much more impressive from below!… Roaring down and sending clouds of water droplets billowing out over the verdant, untamed land at the back of the cove, toward the town.
By the sea’s edge is a forest of hundreds of silk tents.
The blue and green dyed design, that made up the largest single minority in Khawekh, here make up the majority.
Where the river meets the sea stands a palace tent, not quite as impressively large as the one in the capital.
Looming behind the tents, however, is something that put Khawekh’s equivalent to shame!
A port, at which are docked more than a dozen large wooden sailing ships, far bigger than the one at anchor in the capital’s river!
On their decks I can see the silhouettes of Vrakhand women, going about their tasks with comfortable ease.
Wokhash is a coastal town, sustained almost entirely by the sea’s bounty.
Its women, more than hunter-soldiers, are fisher-sailors.
The trade routes that run up and down the East coast and K’rvakh River also bring wealth to the city but it’s apparently rare for meat to be traded.
Less perishable goods, like iron, silk and the very wood that those ships are built from, flow easily to this coastal fortress city from elsewhere.
At the far side of the cove, across a bridge over the river mouth, is a long sandy beach with bright sun beating down on it and sparkling blue water lapping against it.
The General leads us as we walk down the path to her uncle’s city.
As we come between the silk tents, we elicit the predictable reaction of stopping and gawking from every Vrakhand.
I suppose, if a Human had lead five Vrakhand into a fishing village on an Iron Aged Earth, the reaction would have been much the same…
Actually… scratch that(!)
If five Vrakhand had been revealed to Iron Aged Humans the result would probably have involved much more running and screaming(!)
We have the advantage of looking comparatively nonthreatening, so we only elicit confusion and moderate unease.
We come up to what looks like a small market square, in which there stands an adorable, brown furred male, looking away from us and grasping the tops of two long conical shells with messes of limp tentacles and dead eyes dangling from the bottoms.
He stands beside a large woman who’s seated on the ground and several crates of the shelled cephalopods.
Though they’re only a metre or so long, the things sort of look like those ancient extinct Terran nautiloids… what were they called… cameroceras?
“Whiiivk!… Dhuuugh whivk!… Komhak viki anht!” shouts the fluffy little salesman.
The woman notices us and, her face fixed in an open mouthed gape, raises one of her tridactyl hands from where it was folded in front of her chest and frantically begins to tap the little man on the shoulder.
He looks behind himself to the fisherwoman and follows her gaze.
His eight eyes come to rest on five Humans and go wide.
This is only the second of all the Vrakhandic realms we’re going to need to visit over the next few weeks…
I suppose we had better get used to being stared at!
---Khravash’s perspective---
A son of Aghogh stands before my plinth, two sisters at his flank.
“I’m afraid that my city does not have sufficient stores of food to be donating any meaningful quantity to the capital.” I frown.
“We aren’t asking for charity… We are prepared to pay you for all that we are given.” explains the boy, calmly.
“That’s all very well and good… but have you given any thought to spoilage? How will you take whatever you buy from us back to Khawekh without it becoming rotten?” I ask.
“We would ask that you either sell us cured sea meat or enough salt to cure whatever you sell us ourselves…” he answers without missing a beat.
Despite his youth, he clearly does not want for intelligence…
Then again…
“That much salt will considerably increase the price…” I observe, making pretence of concern, while gleefully thinking about how much profit I stand to make from the Khawekhans’ desperation.
“We are prepared to pay it.” says the boy, resolutely.
“That won’t be necessary!” comes a deep, woman’s voice from behind the doorway curtains.
Startled, I look to the far side of the room, where I see my niece entering.
“What trickery is this?!” I snarl at the three Khawekhans, standing before my throne plinth “You told me Khr’kowan was dead not [minutes] ago!”
All three feign astonishment, looking behind them, to their half sister, then back to me.
“Don’t play fools!… To have arrived this close to you she must have been aboard the same ship you arrived on! You expect me to believe you didn’t know!? What is the purpose of this deception!” I shriek, outraged!
Was the whole thing a lie? The talk of a Vermin uprising? The capital starving? All of it?
I can feel my dreams of Wokhashan hegemony slipping away.
It’s at this point that I notice the things walking behind my niece as she approaches me.
I raise my finger to point at one of them and begin “What are…?”
“Stop talking, Uncle.” she cuts me off.
If anyone apart from her and her father spoke to me so bluntly, I would have my daughters seize them for their insolence!
Khr’kowan takes a deep breath and speaks “I have come with news: As of yesterday, a temporary armistice has been agreed to by the Twigg elements currently located in and near the Khawekhan [Crownlands]… Hunting can resume and Khawekh is no longer in need of food imports. Though it is good to know how much we would have been able to count on you in our hour of need, Uncle(!)” dryly.
“B-but… What?!” I fluster “Who are the ‘Twigg’… and how can you possibly know of happenings in Khawekh that only occurred yesterday!?”
“The ‘Twigg’ is the proper name for those that are no longer to be called ‘Vermin’… and I’m aware of things that happened in Khawekh yesterday because I was there yesterday.” she answers simply.
“Don’t be absurd, Khr’kowan!” I scoff “It takes ten days to sail from Khawekh! How would you have made the journey in only one?… Did you fly here(!?)”
A mirthful expression passes her face as she chuckles “Funny you should ask, Uncle, but… as it happens, I did!”
Unnerved by the large woman’s deranged words and the… disgusting, soft skinned bipeds in her company, I fail to summon any response.
“Sister, your hunting party… they told us they saw you die?” asks the male, doing an incredible play at acting as if this is the first of this insanity he’s hearing about if it isn’t!
She smiles “Reports of my death have been… greatly exaggerated(!)” before continuing “There is a common element to my survival, the armistice with the Twigg and the rapidity of my journey here; all of them have been facilitated by these people and their compatriots…”
She gestures to the creatures behind her.
“They have come here from beyond the stars to invite us to join them there. They have much wondrous knowledge and many astounding abilities to share with us… The only condition is a reconciliation with the Twigg… Uncle, my father requests your presence in Khawekh to discuss these matters… We can fly there as soon as you’ve made the proper preparations.”