---Old---

---Mek’s perspective---

‘Pon was an exceptional woman…’ I think to myself as I ride a [stallionhound], slowly walking a few Folk lengths behind the man she and I almost certainly made together, along the wide road that we would have avoided like a rutting [bettleocerous], this time last year(!)

Every child she made, she brought out the absolute best in what the man had given her!

Grriv is larger and stronger than I was as a younger man.

Viig is far cleverer than Lof ever was!

It saddens me that neither of them (nor anyone else from when I was a youth) could still be here… that, if I survive until [regen]’s been solved, I will forever be the oldest member of Miw and all surrounding villages.

But… along with the sadness, there is pride.

I am proud of the people I see the Folk becoming and I’m glad they still have a use for an old fart like myself(!)… Even if I’m more than a little apprehensive about the use I’m being given!

“Hey, Mek…” the companion I ride with smiles over a muscular shoulder “…you seen that really short Terran girl?”

“Thran?… I wouldn’t try it, boy! I think she would probably break you… no matter how gentle she was(!)” I chuckle.

He waves a negative “No, not her! Olga! Brown hair? Grey eyes? Unusual proportions for a Terran?”

“Oh…” I say, remembering the girl who stands more than a head shorter than the next shortest Terran and goes everywhere with what looks like a light scowl on the face “…she’s attractive to you, is she?”

“Yeeeah…” he sighs, grinning stupidly “…she’s dreamy!”

I puff “Well… I don’t see it myself but everyone likes what they like, don’t they… You suggested it yet?”

Another negative “No… she’s always with at least Enas (the one eyed one) talking about super clever things… The offworlders like [privacy] when they’re propositioned and for everything that follows. I’ve not had the opportunity yet.”

“Well…” I shrug “…it won’t be too long before you’re going to be travelling off the world on the same sky boat as her… I’m sure you’ll get the opportunity at some point on that journey… Though I would urge caution; she may not be Thran but she’s still a third of a Folk taller than you and looks like she might be three times as heavy! Even she could easily hurt you if you piss her off… and she doesn’t give the impression of being particularly patient or forgiving!”

He leans back from where he sits atop the plodding [stallionhound] and bares all four fangs in a grin, saying “Selling points, Mek(!)… Those are selling points(!)”

I laugh and throw up the nonstaff hand in a gesture of ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you!’

At this point, we arrive at what is, for us, an impasse.

Grriv springs, lithely, down from the mount he rides and goes to help me down.

I push him away with the staff and say “I’m not that old, boy(!) I can dismount myself!” hopping down to the ground without assistance.

He cocks an eyebrow and says “Oh… so I guess you don’t need me to shout across the river for you either then(?)”

I look out across the wide rapids that I know to be too deep for Folk to wade and too fast flowing to swim.

The women guarding the far side look engrossed in conversation and haven’t noticed us.

I don’t know if I could shout loud enough for them to here over the sound of the water but I do know that the attempt will destroy the throat!

I sigh “Please shout across the river for me, Grriv.”

“Thought so.” he smirks, turning out across the water and inflating his chest to yell “HEEEEEY…!”

The two women immediately snap their attention to us in a way that is reflexively terrifying!

“…BRING A BOAT FOR HIM!!!” he demands, pointing to me.

A few moments pass as sixteen eyes appraise us and the women speak at a volume that can’t be perceived.

Then, one of them goes to a stack of boats (too small for them, too large for me) and lifts one off the top.

Returning to the water edge, the woman places the dinghy down and takes hold of a long, leading silk rope before wading out towards us.

I hope it won’t be bouncing around like that on the trip back across the river with me weighing it down! That does not look comfortable!

Grriv hands me a long thin object, wrapped in cloth, before wrapping me in a hug and saying “Stay safe, Mek… Don’t get eaten(!)”

---Khr’kowan’s perspective---

“Sir Mek of Miw, I presume?” I say to the (by my standards) miniscule man, standing in the middle of my throne room, as I take my seat atop my pedestal, my broodhusband at my side.

Haorken already has her place on her side of the pedestal.

“I am, Majestic…” he answers, his language’s lack of any terms of possession briefly fooling me into thinking him to be proclaiming that he himself is majestic “…it is an honour and a privilege to be invited to this city.” dipping his head in respect.

“It is a delight and a pleasure that you accepted.” I respond, truthfully.

He’s perfect!

Though I didn’t know his name, he is the very Twigg I was thinking of when I asked for an older male.

Wizened… Aged… Venerable… He looks every bit as if my father had been transformed into a Twigg by a curse(!)

The scar on the left side of his face, passing over a blind, milky eye, does mark him out as having been a warrior in his youth but, with the roughhewn, ironwood staff he needs to prop up his kind’s unstable looking, bipedal posture, I don’t think anyone could perceive him as a threat!

His facial hair grows thicker than any Vrakhand male and he dresses more conservatively than any other Twigg I’ve seen from the South.

“Your lodgings are prepared for you, Mek of Miw.” I state “We’ve stocked them with water and meat but have yet to receive the first shipment of nonmeat foods we’ve arranged to trade for with your people. That should arrive from the embassy later today… I trust you will survive until then?”

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He smiles and waves his hand “Eating one meal of only meat will be no problem at all for me, Majestic. It’s only if I don’t eat vegetables for a prolonged period that the healers tell me I will become sick.”

I frown, confused “The healers had to tell you that?… You didn’t already know?”

He raises and lowers his shoulders in nonchalance and answers “Meat is never plentiful enough for my people that a village could live off only it for any protracted period…”

“But, surely, individuals in a tribe could?”

This time, he frowns “I’m… sorry?… Why would only some of us be eating all that meat and the rest of us not, Majestic?”

I lean back, surprised.

I realise I had entirely forgotten about the Twigg’s [egalitarianism]!

I was imagining high status Twigg monopolising meat supplies, allowing all to see that doing so makes them sick.

I recall now that there are no Twigg nobles!

To them, more meat means more meat for all to share!

“Apologies, Sir Mek… my lack of familiarity with your people’s ways caused me to speak foolishly.” I say.

In answer, he just does another shoulder raise and says “No problem, Majestic… As I understand, I’m here to make you, the council and, later, the [Regent] over there, familiar with Twigg ways.”

“Yes. And we greatly appreciate it!… Kurkhuw, do you have…? Oh, thank you.” my broodhusband places what I sought into my hand without my needing to finish the question.

“Your first Moon’s salary in advance… no threads attached! You do not have to return it if you decide you need to leave early.” I say, standing and crossing the hall to extend the pouch to him.

He reaches his free hand out to take it, a confused expression on his face.

His fingers close around the top of the bag and I release it.

Its weight immediately drags it to the floor, almost pulling the old man down with it.

I curse my stupidity!

Obviously it would be a much higher proportion of his weight than mine and, if he wasn’t expecting it…

“I’m sorry, Sir Mek! I should have warned you it would be heavy!”

“That’s fine… Majestic…” he answers, distractedly, opening up the bag and looking inside, his face still confused “…What’s this?”

“Your salary… 20 iron coins for this Moon… Is it… not enough?” I ask, uncertainly.

It is, in my view, a rather generous wage…

Was he expecting chests upon chests?

I know his people are generally impoverished compared to mine… maybe he thinks our treasuries are boundless?

“Sorry, Majestic… what’s a [salary]?” he asks, enlightening me as to his confusion.

“It’s… payment… for the services you’ll be rendering, Sir Mek…”

“[Payment]?”

“Yes… you understand ‘compensation’?… It’s like a trade. You give us your time and your knowledge, we give you this iron.”

His eyebrows fly up his wrinkled green forehead “Every Moon?!”

That’s more like the reaction I was hoping for!

“Yes… every Moon… Did they not explain that you would be compensated at the embassy?”

He frowns “I mean… they might have mentioned something about it but… I think I misunderstood… My understanding was that I would give time and knowledge and, in return, be fed and housed.”

I smile wryly “I would shame the Khawekhan Realm and [Empire] to be so stingy with you, Sir Mek! Food and lodging are but a part of your compensation.”

“And… what do I… do with it?”

I give a dismissive gesture “That’s really none of my concern; hoard it, roll around in it, send it back to your people to melt down, whatever you like… I would advise you to keep at least a little here for yourself, though… Anything you wish to buy in Khawekh will need to be purchased with these.”

“So… that’s like… compensation again, Majestic?… I want something other than the food you’re giving me, I have to give the person who has it one of these?” he asks, gesturing into the bag.

“Depending on what you want… it might be more or less than one iron coin but, essentially, yes.”

“Hmmm… Complicated!” he reflects “But I thank you for being a generous, Majestic.”

“You are most welcome, Sir Mek.” I say, turning to retake my seat on my throne pedestal.

I’m almost there when he says “Speaking of compensation, Majestic…” but that’s as far as he gets because, at that moment, something (to me) small and fluffy charges into the room from outside.

My head whips around to see one of my siblings sprinting at the old man she’s already probably nearly twice the weight of!

Her arms and palps are extended in glee but my insides go cold at the thought of returning a mangled corpse to his people, explaining that he was ripped apart, [minutes] after arriving, by one of my baby halfsiblings who only wanted to play.

I rear up to bring myself back around and charge for her.

The old man is already holding his stick between himself and the baby…

Yes!

Good!

She’s going to be on you before I’m on her but if you can just fight her off for a moment!

I’ll completely forgive you if you hurt her… though I’d prefer you don’t do so too badly!

She’s too close!

He still hasn’t swung for her!

She’s about to kill him when…

She meets only his stick, which he angles to cause her to glance away, harmlessly, to his right… towards me.

She shrieks and giggles delightedly at the game and turns around to charge the old man again.

Before she has the chance, I’ve scooped her from the ground.

I stare furiously at the happy, oblivious infant for a moment before a young male appears in the door and all my ire immediately refocuses on him.

“KHUH!!!” I roar, causing him to flinch “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!?

I thunder to where he stands and loom down over him.

I extend him the baby that I can now tell is female but (visually at least) cannot identify beyond that “IS THIS V’EKSHAKH AGAIN!?”

“She is, Your Majesty…” he mumbles back, rightfully ashamed.

“THIS IS, WHAT!? THE FOURTH TIME?!?!?!”

“Fifth.” respond my sister and broodhusband, coolly and in unison.

I take a deep, steadying inhale (that turns out as much more of a hissing growl than I meant) and make a conscious effort to lower my voice as, through gritted toothplates, I say “Khuh, if she’s such a flight risk, you need to give her to a more experienced attendant! The previous times this was just embarrassing… this time, it was dangerous!!!”

I gesture behind myself to the tiny old man.

“She could have hurt him, Khuh!!!… Do you understand how bad that would have been!?!?!?”

“Yes, Your Majesty…” he answers, looking like he’s about to cry.

“GOOD! Then you’ll understand why you’re demoted!!!… You are to take her back to the nursery and explain to Bhormhidh that your apprenticeship has resumed and you are no longer to be trusted solo until. further. NOTICE!... Dismissed!!!”

The boy flees from the room, taking V’ekshakh with him.

I take several more deep breaths to dispel my anger before turning back to the guest in my realm and saying “Sir Mek… I cannot apologise enough for that!… Are you unharmed?”

He smiles and waves dismissively “No harm done, Majestic… Young ones will play… Would that we could all be so carefree(!)”

“You have my deepest gratitude for not harming my halfsister, Sir Mek!… I would have understood completely if you had!… That was an impressive redirection!”

The old man taps four of the five claws of his left hand just above his left temple (connoting cunning) and grins “I’m [56], Majestic… A Folk does not live to be this age without picking up a few such tricks(!)”

Containing my shock that this wizened old man is, in fact, only [16 years] older than me, I sigh “I can see we still have much to learn about your people from you, Sir Mek… That is, if you’re still willing to teach us… I will understand if you wish to leave now, after that experience!”

The loss of twenty iron coins for no work will smart… but not close to as much as compelling him to remain here against his wishes would hurt Vrakhand-Twigg relations!

He waves his hand “No… I think I’d like to stay, Majestic… I can fend off the odd rogue baby for such generous compensation(!)”

“I’m relieved to hear it, Sir Mek… Though, I truly hope, that will be the last occasion on which you will be ambushed by one of my siblings! I’ll have a word with the nursery about tightening antiescape security when we’re done here… Oh, did you have another question about your salary?”

“Err… no, Majestic… I think I understand it now?” he answers, confused.

“Before V’ekshakh interrupted you, you were saying something else about compensation?” I prompt.

“Oh! Right! Yes!” he remembers “It wasn’t about the [salary]… I have something to give you.”

“Something to give me?” I query.

“Well… maybe not you… and I’m just delivering it, actually…” he says, withdrawing a long, thin, rigid, nonsilk cloth parcel from his belt and extending it upwards for me to take.

Quizzically, I begin to unwrap it.

I gasp as I see the glossy, red, metallic texture that emerges from the bundle.

“A… ‘gesture of goodwill’ was the phrase I believe I am to use… from Representative Viig… as thanks for the aid you gave after the attack on Dith.” smiles the old man, kindly.

“What is it, Khr’kowan?” asks my sister, from her place on the right of the throne pedestal.

“It’s… it’s your foot, Haorken…”