38th of Hamis, 2719
QRIETH | MIDDAY
He'd not ridden any animal in quite sometime, and once the ayeoph had landed and he was forced to adjust to their strange, elongated gait, the lower half of his body immediately objected. Nauleth grunted at Kaelum's chilled defacto description of the human residents of Verit-Lie, glancing over to study the tall, pale Gioran's serious and unforgiving facial expression even if he couldn't meet his gaze. The once Da Huane was not speaking with a tone of judgment or disdain so much as comfortable, confident, undeniable belief—was it really any different from an Anaxi perspective?
Perhaps the eldest Siordanti didn't entirely disagree, and yet, there was something about the declaration of humans as animals too unsavory for even galdorkind to be in their every day midst that sounded hollow in the trembling chamber of his winded chest,
"Humans aren't stupid, even if they are limited creatures." He murmured, the honesty of such an otherwise culturally unacceptable statement for one of his race and station tasting strange on his chilled tongue and numb lips, the professor shifting in the saddle to accommodate his anatomy more comfortably—an impossible task at this point—and shook his head, "Research has yet to prove that it is the intellectual capacity of humankind that is at all comparable to their lack of magical ability. It would be a mistake to assume they are simply useless animals just like it was a terrible mistake to assume that mythical beasts were anything but harmless bedtime stories. I know for a fact both are untrue."
Which probably meant that one day, humanity would rise out of the mist and sink their collective teeth into galdorkind's own flesh as well.
He didn't want to dwell on what that would look like.
Chewing the inside of a windburned, tingling cheek at Athrym's additional explanation, the redhead scowled as both Kaelum and Leyenak scoffed in disbelief. Gior didn't have the sprawling industrial center of the Soot District, and while galdori manufacturing in this godsforsaken kingdom did, in fact, exist on a limited scale, it was obvious where the Giorans were lagging behind some of the other Six Kingdoms technologically, though he understood now through personal experience it was more thanks to internal squabbles of a shallow, tribal mindset than because of any particular lack of intelligence among the mountain-dwelling galdori. They were, instead, kept oblivious in the dark.
"It is our divine right."
Naul huffed, flexing his crackling, frayed field in emphasis of his gods-empowered existence, though there was an edge to his haggard, baritone voice, a waver of self-doubt over the fundamental truths to the Anaxi galdori mantra's he was repeating, mantras he'd been practically taught to believe from birth in the Siordanti household: "We have conquered those the gods chose not to favor and instead given them a place in the world, given them the privilege of benefitting from our blessing by allowing them to work and live alongside us."
At least that was what he was told.
Now? Right now?
Clocking hell, he wasn't even sure he believed it all anymore. Not one bit of anything.
His hands settled with warm familiarity on his fiancé's hips while she at least attempted to explain things in terms that perhaps the two other Giorans might somehow understand. He could tell by Kaelum's face that his peer either didn't catch on or refused to see things from such a culturally opposite perspective. Either way, as the trio of them sought safe passage toward the Kingdom of Anaxas, both Huanes would be forced to come to grips with the Anaxi perspective on the lower races soon enough, whether they wanted to or not—
Then again, had he not visited Gior, would he see passives any differently? His sea glass-colored gaze shifted toward the young, veiled face of the once-priestess, the barely of age albino and youngest daughter of Lomenak Da Huane. She would have been gated upon failing her test at Brunnhold, not declared a Child Priestess of Imaan—a god of the very Circle Anaxi people believed cursed galdori children by removing their magic in the first place.
Why was this all so complicated?
Nauleth struggled to come back into focus, but Athrym was speaking to him, mingling her field with his, though he struggled to muster much comfort from the overextended forces of his Physical-laden aura, "I cannot imagine we would need to use force against a bunch of isolated humans, but I'm hardly in any condition to take down too large of a gathering should they choose to oppose us." The petite blonde leaned back, subtly, lightly, and he sighed, arms sliding around her small body a little tighter, resisting the urge to bury his face once again into her coat and just disappear from this stopclocking convoluted conversation.
"Are you asking me to play at diplomacy? Gods, I'm just not the man for that, but alright." The eldest Siordanti whispered with a hint of humor in his voice, though no one could see his tired smirk, hidden as it was behind his fiancé's hood. He squinted past the fur that lined the young woman's coat and attempted to take in the beautiful scenery he'd probably never see again, studying the human-occupied town in the distance and finally letting his attention drift toward the river. Soon the sound of water rushing beneath ice filled his senses and Kaelum was announcing they'd walk the rest of the way.
The redheaded professor groaned, not at all thrilled with the idea of forcing himself to propel his own body into ambulatory motion anywhere at the moment by his own volition, considering how all of it now ached from overcasting, adrenaline a distant memory whipped away by the wind at their descent. Not that he had a choice. He did his best not to rely too much on Athrym as she offered to help him down, as she helped him better distribute the weight of their meager belongings and important contraband research.
"Once we're all safe, I will rest. Whenever that may be." He corrected, frowning just before she pressed her cold lips to his chapped ones, Nauleth not entirely in the state of mind for physical expressions of their emotions for each other. His smile was brief, sincere, but tempered with the kind of determination that had risen from the ashes of his once angry youth.
The air was thicker here, heavier than he'd inhaled for months. He felt dizzy, attempting desperately not to stagger or stumble, gathering all of what he could manage of himself to walk with proper posture, still feeling small in the shadow of Kaelum who stood at least a full head taller than himself, pale hair catching sunlight and cheeks already burnished by exposure.
The eldest Siordanti fumbled to tug off his gloves, shoving them into his coat and digging for his spectacles at the same time, breathing on them before positioning them on his face to warm them against the still cold air this far below the heights they'd once been traveling on. He watched with wariness the surprise and panic that seemed to spread through the human township from the outskirts inward once they crossed the bridge, the gravity of his field swirling and coalescing into a stalwart presence but not a threatening one.
On any given street in the Stacks or Uptown Vienda, no lower race would dare stare so openly at a galdor with the kind of expressions these feral Giorans were glaring at him with, and, like nearly his entire time in the Kingdom, this was just another shock to his sensibilities, another knife slipped just so into the chinks in his cultural armor. They were afraid—as they should be considering the power he wielded, the power they all wielded in comparison—but it wasn't respectful fear, it wasn't a recognition of superiority or even begrudging acquiescence to authority. It was the kind of fear one might expect when surprising a Bastian tigress—she knew she could consume you, but that didn't mean she wanted to, that didn't mean she should.
The sheer number of tall, threatening humans that filled Verit-Lie could easily overtake three galdori, weary as they were. Even if they'd been fully rested—
Athrym tangled her fingers with his and he inhaled sharply, having been lost in calculating just how many bodies he would have left to be buried before he was, himself, made a magical corpse through some kind of farm-implement blunt force trauma. A ripple of focus crackled through his field and he gave her hand a squeeze, noting the approach of one of the humans toward them instead of away from them.
He looked as though he was some sort of authority figure, perhaps, or at least he was the man with the sharpest clocking hoe.
"Let me do the talking." He hissed quickly, resisting the urge to address Kaelum directly but quite sure the taller man would catch onto the implied specificity in his tone. He meant it for Athrym, too, and for Leyenak, though he worried less about the passive child than his galdori companions when it came to the potential for interruption of his plan.
Professor Nauleth Siordanti squared his shoulders, wet chapped lips, cleared his throat, and attempted to channel all the things he hated about his father, Hadrian. Reaching out to brush fingers of his free hand across Kaelum's bicep, insisting in his stillness, he released Athrym's hand and immediately positioned himself between the three Giorans—two galdori, one passive—making bold, gold-rimmed eye contact with the much taller, broad-shouldered human but not offering him a smile. Instead, he made a theatrical show of fumbling through his coat, pulling out his identification papers, his travel visa, and all of his other important documents, waving them in the direction of the man he was quite sure couldn't read them, speaking in his crisp, Anaxi Estuan. He raised a hand in friendliness and peace, hoping to disarm the man with the open-palmed gesture,
"Yes. Hello. Good day. Please, do not worry—I am here with the Kingdom of Anaxas' Committee on International Trade Relations, and I am not at all concerned with the borders of your territory. We are not here to cause trouble or harm. On the contrary—" Showing off his paperwork as if it mattered, he quickly tucked it away again before shoving his spectacles back up his freckled nose, chin high, pulse ringing in his ears,
"—we seem to have, uh, gotten separated from our escorts up on the mountainside during the snowstorm, and we have been wandering lost for so long we thought it safer to descend and seek help. It's a long story, really, and we are very sorry to intrude upon your peaceful habitation here. We require travel arrangements to be on the next airship, which my companions here were under the impression departed from your, um, quaint agricultural community of Verit-Lie. We are more than willing to pay for passage if that would be a benefit to your township, if it would put a bit of ease between your populace and myself, between all of you and us. The Kingdom of Anaxas—"
Naul chose to emphasize his neighboring homeland over the Kingdom they stood in, aware of the lack of relations between Gioran galdori and humanity as well as aware of how many Gioran human border towns instead chose to sell their goods to Anaxi tribal wicks and some enterprising Anaxi galdori entrepreneurs. He pat his coat as if implying he had coins to pay with, should they desire some financial exchange,
"—would be particularly grateful to see the safe return of myself and my companions."
With the briefest of smiles, the eldest of Siordanti children attempted to hold himself together in some semblance of flustered authority despite the exhaustion that threatened to drag him down, unconcerned about his lack of truth so much as hoping to express the desperation and sincerity of a handful of galdori eagerly escaping murder without presenting it in such a light to a group of people who surely wouldn't have had regrets killing them anyway.
He didn't have much to bargain with, so empty promises and whatever concords lived in his wallet would just have to do.
This isn't Brunnhold anymore, ersehat, and you're not going home.