Changeling

(74): Cold-blooded

The trip back was fast now that Camille was no longer playing bait, and also because Mazingwe carried Nestra on his back. The good doctor had a lot of questions about her new body and its functions. Unfortunately, Nestra couldn’t answer as first she had little idea herself, and second, she was drooling hard while her stomach cried for food. Every energy bar and piece of jerky they’d taken disappeared down her gullet in her ravenous search for sustenance. She was still starving when Camp Riel came into view, in the late afternoon. Meanwhile, Camille was out of breath from keeping up with the old high gleam.

“You will handle the heads while I inform our leadership about the betrayal,” Mazingwe said as they briefly stopped at the edge of the cleared land, the damaged factories and solar farm in full view. Riel’s sentries didn’t like people running towards them, even if they were human.

“Hold on!” Nestra said.

Mazingwe paused, a little surprised.

“Is there something you would wish to add?”

“Concerning what I said, I was absolutely serious and genuine when I said we could bring the Carved Tusk to the negotiation table and have them pay for skirting the rules. My instincts tell me this is the lizard thing to do: they tried to trick us, we found out, they offer compensation.”

“I remember what you said, yes,” Mazingwe replied, eyes going to Camille who merely shrugged.

“However,” Nestra added, “I’ve been burnt by my instincts too many times already. I need to stop thinking stuff will just work out because I have a good feeling about it. We need a plan. It’s not because the negotiation is possible that we can just start it. I need to know how to talk…”

“You will not be taking the lead in those negotiations,” Mazingwe cut, his words without appeal.

“And for good reason since we’ve had losses,” Mazingwe said. “Except…”

“Immediate and total vengeance goes against the city’s best interests. We would not just lose an ally no matter how fickle they are, we would mostly gain a new enemy because the lizardmen wouldn’t understand that we wouldn’t demand compensation first. To them, we would be the first to break our word because we wouldn’t give them a chance to make amends for a forgivable transgression.”

Mazingwe nodded along, but then he frowned.

“You are sure about this, yes?”

“Again, I am absolutely sure this is the lizardmen’s logic, but I am not sure how to convince our side, or even what strategy to follow. I highly suspect the lizard form I got has the language and basic instincts of its host species, but little more.”

It could also be that she was a female Aszhii. Perhaps male Aszhii had better infiltration capabilities. Fuck, she couldn’t wait to be able to open portals like she was supposed to.

Camille cleared their throat.

“Camp Riel has a diplomacy and culture section in its database. Free of access. There are anthropology essays, reports… Everything we need to get started.”

“Shouldn't it be xenology?” Nestra asked with a frown.

Camille shrugged.

“We are getting sidetracked,” Mazingwe said. “I understand that you wish to research the lizardmen before I bring the situation to my superiors. I fear I cannot delay this report for very long as it is strategically significant.”

“Yes. I think I only need the night to get a good grasp of what we’re dealing with before I can formulate and suggest a plan. I’m just… tired of always rushing in first, getting hurt, and figuring things out later.”

“Wow,” Camille said.

“Shut up,” Nestra replied, thus blocking a perfidious jab before it could bury itself in her tender ego.

Hunger was needling her, probably related to her new body. She didn’t need more sass right now.

“So,” Nestra continued, “we can actually free some time if you, dear doctor, go recover the lizardman’s body.”

Mazingwe slowly nodded again.

“I do know the aliens take last rites very seriously, so it makes sense not to abandon the remains.”

“Maybe you can find the heads we missed?”

“No,” Mazingwe said with regret. “There is a reason why I used you as bait. The lizardmen will hide from my presence. I would need to be very close to detect them, and the woods are very large. This is a needle in a haystack situation. I fear there is little I can do. Those heads, unfortunately, are lost to us.”

Nestra sighed. Some families already lost a relative. Now they would have to live with the knowledge that their remains decorated some lizard huts. And that was, she remembered, only if they could even be told about the Bridge World’s existence.

“Fuck.”

“Think of all those we’re bringing home,” Camille said. “Our efforts will bring peace to many. Just… not all of them. You can’t win everything.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.”

It was always difficult to accept.

“Young Camille is correct,” Mazingwe said. “Let us focus on what we can do. I will fly back to the battlefield to retrieve the body, if it’s still there. You two return the heads, then prepare. It might be a long night.”

“Understood.”

“Then I shall see you later.”

***

Nestra emerged from the secure tunnel entrance in her human form, carrying bloody bags that left the sentries with pursed lips filled with grief. Whatever magic had kept the remains untouched before had faded and now the bag smelled of old blood. They had to hurry. Their first destination was the morgue.

Camille bumped shoulders with Nestra. At first, she thought they were asking her to look at something since the blademaster couldn’t have done that by accident, but then she realized they were being followed. A long file of uniformed gleams were walking behind them at a polite distance. By the time they stopped at their destination, they had picked up a massive tail.

The morgue was its own building rather than one of the large tents that served as barracks. It was cold inside, and mostly empty. There hadn’t been new battles in a while and Nestra suspected all the bodies had already been repatriated for processing. There was no one at the entrance so the two just let themselves into the facilities proper through a currently unlocked gate. The soldier in charge of the place was an old Japanese gleam with unaspected eyes, so someone who had never really engaged with raiding. He had the kind of look one had when they’d gone on the other side of exhaustion to emerge in a state of constant stupor. Nestra delicately placed her bag on a metal bed while their host gathered his wits.

“The contractors, yes?” He finally asked.

“We have thirty-two heads. We are still missing fifteen.”

The old man mulled over the news for a moment.

“Alright. I’ll do the identification. Thanks for —”

Someone crashed through the secured door. Nestra jumped a bit as she’d not felt any mana. Camille took a step away from the bags so Nestra did the same, just in time for a short, slightly overweight woman to barge in. The stocky newcomer had a flat face, black hair cut to her neck and the air of command one carried naturally after giving orders for far too long. The way she stopped in front of the bags was hesitant, and it broke the mantle of authority she had gathered around herself. The tag on her stocky shoulder read “A Sok, Head Contractor.”

Those were her people in the bag.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Nestra replied. “Thirty-two. We’re missing fifteen, sorry.”

“Well, it’s thirty-two more than I had an hour ago.”

Her voice broke at the end. Nestra felt a little bitter. It seemed like civilian victims were a constant in her life so far.

I’m going to ask our leadership not to go wild on supposed allies who, if my suspicions are correct, helped with the assault that killed our people.

Yeah that was going to go well.

“I wanna see them. I want to help with identification.”

“Ma’am,” the technician replied, “I’m not —”

“I am sure.”

The technician hesitated. An instant later, a short man in uniform walked in, gray hair and now that she paid attention, a nature affinity. The technician saluted. Nestra didn’t. Even though she was nominally under the army’s command, she wasn’t part of their hierarchy right now. She still gave room to let him through since she recognized the base commander and this was his turf.

“Ah, I see you’ve brought them back,” the man said.

“Not all,” Camille felt compelled to reply. “ We couldn’t get them all.”

“Commander Xayavong. I want to stay. I want to ID them,” Sok said.

The technician was given a nod of approval. With reverence, he opened the bag, taking the first head out. It was a bald man, his skull sadly crushed on the left side. The sight was ghastly.

For a moment, Nestra made ready to assist Sok if she started heaving, but the woman took a shuddering breath. When she next spoke, her voice was low but stable.

“Eric Messer, janitorial staff, greenhouse.”

The commander waved Nestra and Camille away to let the pair work in peace. They retreated towards the antechamber which was still empty. Shapes could be seen beyond the windows of the heavy door.

“Alright, report.”

“Hmm, errr,” Camille said.

Nestra raised a hand.

“Go ahead. Palladian, was it?”

“Sir. Our team left this morning 6AM local time in order to lure and ambush the forces that attacked the civilian facilities. My team consisted of Camille Nguyen here, B-Class Mazingwe known as Dawn Spear, and myself. We managed to lure and kill…”

She counted. Three in the first camp, five in the second plus the B-class, but the Aszhii had escaped so better make that—

“Eight assailants including a B-class, and recovered bags of trophies. After that, we made our way back around 6PM local time.”

“Where is Raider Mazingwe?”

Nestra stopped herself from blurting out what he was doing. That would lead to questions and she wasn’t holding back information from someone who was good at getting them. She had to be brainy about it.

“He is gone to retrieve the B-class for identification, sir.”

“Any specific idea as to why he would need the body?”

“I wouldn’t presume, sir,” she replied.

The man leaned forward. He was fairly short, but he had a way to lean in that made that not matter.

“And if you were to presume?”

“No sir, I was told to return the heads and wait for him.”

Her stomach picked that moment to protest very loudly, a cavernous sound that drew for a couple seconds. Like the moan of a dying beast.

“When was the last time you ate, raider?”

“We, uh, about six hours, I think. I had some snacks…” she finished, piteously.

“I didn’t,” said Camille whose snacks had been pillaged and devoured.

“Get cleaned up, then get to the mess hall.”

“Yessir.”

The two made it out. Outside of the building, a half-circle of maybe fifty mixed soldiers and raiders waited. Questions fused immediately, but the crisp salutes that interrupted them informed her that the commander had followed them.

“You two go ahead,” he said. “As for you lot, there will be a bulletin tonight. Now if you’re so free you can stay here like a bunch of gossips…”

Never had Nestra seen space clear out faster without the help of a live grenade. She and Camille used the opportunity to reach their tent. A very quick double shower followed. Nestra had to dry her hair while downloading the entire directory of lizardmen culture. By the time Camille was done, she was already starting on the history portion.

“Nestra, have you eaten my crackers?”

“It’s for a good cause,” Nestra replied.

“Is it related to… you know. Do you want to take it out to play?”

“First, I’m hungry. No, sorry, I meant to say, I should not change here. Its mana is different and someone could pick it up. Second, I think the form needs a ton of food to grow to a proper size, or even function well. Third, I’m starving. Four, our immediate priority is to try and prevent Threshold from starting a new war that it could do without right now. Did I mention I was starving?”

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“I got the message, thank you.”

“Xayavong ordered me to eat.”

Since it was a direct command, they moved towards the mess at gleam speed. It was almost full but there was only a bit of queuing with gleams being so fast. Nestra realized the food was free with her ID so she started piling on. They had roasted pork, oven-baked veggies, and lots of carbs. There was fish also, but Nestra didn’t like the look of it. She scarfed the food down with gusto.

“We gotta…”

She yawned.

“We gotta look for precedent. Help me up? Try to see if they have inter-clan history, not just human-lizardmen.”

“Ok.”

Nestra finished her plate as she read. It was a tragedy having to pay attention to something else while eating but time was of the essence, and sometimes even hallowed experiences must be sacrificed on the altar of productivity. She shook her head, then stood up for a second serving. The canteen had simple stuff alongside the more elaborate dishes they offered, like corn on the cob. Those turned out to be local products, rich in mana, so Nestra grabbed three, then she demolished them from one side to the other like a hybrid between an antique typewriter and a woodchipper.

“These are good!” she exclaimed.

Camille could only look on in horror.

Nestra’s research didn’t yield any quick result but that was to be expected. She was only scratching the surface of everything they had. Her first priority was to find out where to look. A summary search showed some promising material: the database offered a history of the start of the alliance which they credited to two factors: one, the mercy of a healer gleam named Bai Meihua, apparently a founding member of the BaiHe megacorps. She’d saved wounded lizardmen, sending them on their way without violence. Those survivors had been the first emissaries between the two species which then led to the translators and, eventually, to the Agreement. Two: Shinran had shown no mercy at all. They called him the Red Giant like he was a calamity and not a foe. There was an impressive list of atrocities, sorry ‘indisriminate eliminations’ he’d performed in the opening months of the human expedition. The man had been pissed. It appeared that in the wake of Riel’s sacrifice, the lizards had lost so many of their A-classes that they had few who stood a chance against an enraged Shinran, and fewer willing to take the chance. Cooperation became attractive to the embattled Carved Tusks when the alternative was extinction.

“Interesting,” Nestra said as she tossed the last cob.

The people around them had changed completely, a sign they’d been here for too long. Nestra frowned, realizing she’d been occupying a table for two shifts. Not cool. On the other hand, she was so damn hungry…

“Hey sis!” A familiar voice greeted.

“Manu!” Nestra hailed back.

The titanic fire gleam dropped sliced tomatoes in front of her.

“Room for more? May I join?”

“Sure but we won’t stay long. We gotta work late.”

She frowned.

“I kind of don’t want to work in my bunk.”

She was feeling so tired that if she started lying down, she’d fall asleep for sure. Her true body still preferred to sleep during sunup and sundown. It had been months since she’d felt so affected by that urge, a sure sign she’d been beaten black and, well, even more black.

Maybe the base had a cafe.

“Hey you’re not the only one who needs to study, sis,” Manu said as he delicately deposited a plate of roast pork in front of him. He had some roasted potatoes too.

“Hey, where did you find those?”

“Leftovers. You don’t got to worry about staying there. My mates and I know you went and recovered the heads, aye?”

“We did,” Nestra replied with a smile. “Killed the harvesters too.”

“Good stuff Nestra. The cooks will let you be if you want to, but there are also desks in the rec room for those who need to study.”

“Sounds good. Dessert first.”

“Try the tomatoes before that.”

They were mana-rich but lacked flavor which was a little disappointing. By the time she was done, half of the mess kept looking at the pile of plates on her tray which had accumulated like skulls beneath the throne of some great Barbarian queen. Nestra was also finally feeling a little sated. She still grabbed a bag of jerky on her way out.

“I’ll show you to the rec room,” Manu offered.

“Yes please.”

“So did you two know each other before?” Camille asked.

Nestra explained that no they didn’t, then she recounted Camille killing lizardmen while she ‘provided support’. Manu seemed impressed enough.

“Nah, yeah, those assholes can be slippery. They don’t do so well when everything around them’s on fire though.”

He grinned.

“Just watch the spears.”

“Manu, we've faced spear users before. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah you’ve beaten them and returned, don’t know why I’m giving you lessons. Ah, here it is!”

The rec room was more of a rec building. A ping-pong tournament was under way but since the competitors were C-rank, the poor ball rang like a bell between their fast blows. Manu kindly led the pair to a secluded office space where a corporal even moved to let them sit side by side. It looked like they were appreciated. It felt super nice.

With snacks and coffee taken from a local machine which tasted terrible and reminded Nestra of her student years, the work could resume. The next great find came as a breath of relief: it was a translated version of the Agreement between Threshold and the Carved Tusks. Nestra searched to see if there was a lizardmen section, then she hit a hurdle. The document claimed the lizardmen didn’t have a writing system. Nestra frowned. That didn’t feel right.

“Do lizardmen have writing?” she asked Camille. “Did you find anything?”

“It says here that they have runes but they are only used for ceremonial purposes. They only represent concepts and objects so they can’t be used to write normal language, not without verbs and the likes. Why?”

“Because I need the lizardman version of the treaty. Maybe it was recorded in an oral version?”

“We can ask Mazingwe when he returns.”

That felt like the key to Nestra. The Carved Tusks had to have broken their words but she needed to figure out exactly how that had happened. She also needed context. A better understanding of their customs.

“There is a folklore folder,” Nestra realized.

“I’m done with the history of the tribes. As expected, there isn’t much because they don’t use a writing system. There are still many treaties in place kept alive by a class of… near-shamans called remembrancers, selected for their memories. They train hard to remember stuff word for word.”

“That is promising. Can you find anything that relates to our case? I’m particularly interested in examples of duplicity, casus belli, and reparations.”

“On it.”

Nestra returned to the Agreement first. She read through it, skipping the trade clause on leather belts exchanged for actual carved tusks and monster cores — truly Threshold was fucking the natives up the ass with this one. She eventually found the exact sentence that qualified what had happened.

“The two tribes shall warn each other if encroaching monsters and enemies.”

Enemies, enemies. Nestra floated the concept in her mind.

“Enemies.”

Oh shit. She understood the trick now.

“Nestra?” Camille whispered.

“What?”

“You’re hissing. In public.”

Oh.

Of course there was cross-species understanding. She understood Aszhii even in human form and vice versa so obviously, she would get the lizard tongue in human language. And her mouth was capable of vocalizing it. She remembered one of the earlier mentions of their language: because the hisses were so hard to distinguish from each other for a human ear, and so difficult to pronounce properly, Thresholders were discouraged from speaking lizardman, so they had to rely on translators installed on their datasheets. Now that language barrier had proven to be the base’s undoing.

Anyway she had the ‘point of failure’, which would be helpful in convincing the base to try her approach. Now she only needed the context to shove the lizardmen’s snouts in their own duplicitous shit.

Nestra still finished reading the Agreement just in case. Once she was done, she stretched. It was only 8PM but she was already feeling taxed to all fuck. Also, she was still hungry.

“Huh?”

The box of jerky was empty.

“Camille, did you eat all of my food again?”

The fencer’s gaze traveled to the graveyard of wrappers on Nestra’s desk. Her face twisted in a mask of frustration, anger, and under all of that, amusement.

“If you were my sister, I’d kill you,” Camille said.

They paused.

“Hmmm I don’t know why I said that.”

“I appreciate it, Camille, I do, but I’m too old to get adopted. Anyway, Java and a donut?”

“I see your cop roots are never far from the surface,” Camille drawled, and it was a fair shot. “Cuntstable.”

“Oi.”

“I read that was a Thresholder’s disrespectful term for an officer.”

“Camille, stop getting your language lessons from vids that went viral fifteen years ago. Just call us pigs like everybody else.”

“Duly noted.”

“Also I’m not a copper anymore.”

“You can take the pig out of the pigsty, but…”

They smiled in a way that made Nestra want to strangle them.

“I think you’ve had enough fun, convict. Coffee?”

“Let’s go.”

They reconvened to the vending machines. Nestra had a regret donut: some processed shit with disgusting syrup that made her miss the Sunflour and Sereth — may his ovens always bake. Camille explained what they’d found so far.

“So the Carved Tusks remembrancers shared previous treaties with Bai Meihua at her request. It looks to me like she hounded them until they did. What I found the most interesting was a treaty between them and the Mud Bed tribe…”

Nestra listened with all of her attention, then continued to do so as they returned to their desks. She also studied the folklore until she had a good idea about lizardman honor and morality. She was about to dive into a paper on lizardman diplomacy written by a Professor A. Semerdjian when a tall figure approached their desks. It was Mazingwe, in civilian clothes.

“I hope you two are ready. I have showered and dined and given you as much time as I could. The commander is waiting for us. Are you ready to make your case?”

“I believe I can at least push for a discussion.”

“Then let’s go.”

***

The meeting room was eerily similar to what Nestra had experienced in the beacon, only even more sterile and unwelcoming. Nestra had expected the commander to be here, of course, but it looked like the entire staff had shown up including the medical officer, senior raiders, and even Sok, the woman who represented the Civilian contractors. They sat there in various stages of wakefulness and grumpiness, a pack of bereaved old assholes more used to giving orders than to receiving them. Summoning them was, in her opinion, a shit decision. Those people had just been attacked. They were going to want retribution. Hell, if some creature had killed Helena and taken her head, Nestra would be halfway to the opposite portal making Christmas decorations out of lizard intestines and eyeballs by now. Sighing, Nestra dumped her datasheet and notes on a seat before sitting down. Even the seat arrangement was adversarial: Mazingwe was at one end with Camille and Nestra while the base’s staff sat at the other.

It was Commander Xayavong who spoke first. His words carried through the room on a wind of exhaustion and bad coffee smells. Paradoxically Nestra was now more alert than before because of Aszhii physiology: it was hunting hour.

“Good evening everyone. The reason why I called you at fuck ‘o clock tonight is that raider Mazingwe, also known as Dawn Spear, made an important discovery today. I’ll let him explain.”

There was a brief pause while Mazingwe looked up at the table and down at people since even sitting he was one tall motherfucker. Nestra got the distinct impression Mazingwe wasn’t amused, but she couldn’t be sure as to why.

“We departed Camp Riel this morning in order to hunt down those responsible for the massacre of our civilian contractors. After several encounters, we found a large group near the small river running behind the portal, near the edge of the boundaries. With them was a B-class warrior from the Carved Tusk tribe. He engaged us when we approached.”

Nestra could tell some of the attendants weren’t getting it. Even gleam bullshit biology could only do so much when it was almost 2AM on a workday.

“We know the Carved Tusks failed to warn us of the attack, but this is the first irrefutable proof of collusion we have uncovered. There is also the thing that attacking one of us constitutes an act of war.”

“Probably to silence you,” one of the raiders said, a man with a ponytail and a jaw that could force a castle’s gate. His eyes shone blue with a small white ring: water and ice. Also a B-class, and not a low one either.

“That is what we surmised.”

“My team and I recovered what heads we could. Unfortunately, we had to retreat to share what we’d seen. We also recovered the body of the B-class. The battlefield remains untouched as well.”

“Intel IDed the fallen lizard as Walking Mountain. The traces of his signature spells are still visible. I have dispatched two squads to secure the location, just in case,” the commander added.

“We have proof. Now we must decide what to do.”

“What is there to discuss?” Boulder Jaw erupted. “They sided with our enemies after promising we’d be allies! They attacked one of us. I say we take every last one of those sad handbags and cull them from this world. And the next!”

Most of the raiders and soldiers leaned forward in their chairs, now fully awake. Mazingwe’s comment about pack hunting tickled Nestra’s brain: this was exactly what he’d said. They’d been bloodied, and now they smelled blood.

Mazingwe looked at her while the commander waited, probably trying to gauge where everyone stood. Camille also seemed to wait for Nestra to act. It was weird but… it was her idea. She was the one who was supposed to talk.

“Just greenlight it and me and my mates will start right away,” Boulder Jaw urged.

“It’s not that simple,” Nestra said.

For a moment, she thought she might be completely ignored and it almost happened. She could see the way Boulder Jaw gave her little more than a passing glance. But the commander’s gaze was firmly on her.

“I will hear what the girl has to say,” Sok said.

“I'd rather not have another war right away,” the med officer, Cassin, added, her eyes still hooded from exhaustion.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, girl,” Boulder Jaw said, now acknowledging Nestra, “but you’re a bit junior to be talking at this table.”

“She speaks with my approval,” Mazingwe said. “As a valuable part of my team and someone I fully trust.”

Boulder Jaw and those who were ready to start the wholesale slaughter paused, still unimpressed, but Nestra was on a little cloud. That was a nice compliment.

Commander Xayavong was the tiebreaker.

“Just to be clear so there is no misunderstanding, I will not authorize an attack on the Carved Tusk without approval from Threshold’s highest authorities unless we’re under direct and immediate threat. We’re not. What we are doing now is determining what will be written in my report and what I recommend. Since Dawn Spear thought it relevant to hear Raider Clytemnestra Palladian’s suggestion…”

“You’re a Palladian?” Boulder Jaw asked with some surprise.

“Ahem. Jim.”

“Sorry,” the man said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The commander let that one go.

“Since he recommends it, I will allow her to speak.”

And the room was Nestra’s. The familiar grasp of stress gnawed at her belly, but she took a deep breath and that was it. This wouldn’t be her first time facing a table of people who were much higher up the food chain. The main thing was that this time, they were granting her their attention and the benefit of the doubt.

“So, there is no question that the lizardmen have failed their obligation to us, even by their standards. The issue is that they haven’t done so to the point it would justify a blood conflict. Allow me to elaborate. So, in lizardmen culture, it is not acceptable to attack an ally. The rare instances are heavily condemned such as was the case for the Nameless tribe.”

“What’s that?” a raider asked.

The commander tapped the table, silencing the person interrupting. It was a young man in an old-fashioned suit who replied, apparently not getting the memo.

“The Nameless tribe committed the cardinal sin of attacking during a mating ceremony. Their names were stricken from the memories of remembrancers and they became the Nameless Tribe. Its members were mercilessly hunted down by everyone else. Overnight, they went from a dominant tribe in a spot called the ‘Bountiful Bay’ to a cautionary tale.”

He nodded for her to continue. Nestra thought people really took liberties interrupting her. If she’d been in her Aszhii form, the discussion would have turned significantly more aggressive.

“As I was saying, this is not such a case. The Carved Tusk have broken the spirit of their words, but not the letter. You see —”

“Since when are you an expert on lizardman culture?” the suit guy asked.

People shifted around the table.

“Perhaps you should listen to her until she is finished before questioning her credentials. She’s here because I invited her,” Mazingwe said.

Nestra appreciated the help, but she also thought she could turn this to her advantage.

“And you are?” she asked the man.

“Professor Andre Semerdjian with Threshold University,” he bristled.

Nestra nodded. That name was familiar.

“You wrote most of the literature on xenodiplomacy, if I remember correctly. Feel free to interrupt me again if there is a point you disagree with.”

“I’ll do that,” he replied, completely missing Nestra’s jab.

“So, in lizardmen culture, direct violations like attacking a celebration party are condemned and punished to the utmost, but skirting the rule is not just tolerated. In fact, it’s encouraged. It’s all about being the most cunning, as expressed in the children’s tale of Bright Scale and the Lake Monster for example.”

“Or the Thief and the Seven Sisters,” Semerdjian added, interrupting her yet again.

“Professor, I will ask you to remain quiet until she is done speaking,” Mazingwe said since Commander Xayavong wouldn’t.

“And the next time, I won’t be asking.”

The scholar leaned back in his seat, hands up to signal understanding.

“Cunning and skirting the rules are encouraged and glorified. It is, however, not glorious to get caught. The Carved Tusk themselves found that another tribe called the Bark Eaters had scammed them on medicinal products. The Bark Eaters were shamed and forced to offer compensation. And that’s where our opportunity is. To summarize, it is taboo to break a treaty, but cunning and glorious to test its limits, and if that testing is discovered, then the offender is expected to offer a compensation. The compensation system isn’t unlike the weregild we used to have on Earth. Weregild were fees paid to offended families by the offending party for any offense up to and including murder.”

Semerdjian nodded empathically.

“The lizardmen don’t have a jail or even a common court system between the tribes, so offenses between tribes are repaid with some sort of tribute.”

Semerdjian had his arms under his pits, presumably to stop himself from talking, but the way his head moved was mostly in favor of her explanation.

“Now we’re in a situation where we are the offended party. If we act according to human laws, then the Carved Tusk committed an act of war and must be exterminated. The weight of our dead would demand no less. The problem is that it would trigger a blood conflict with the lizardmen. That wouldn’t just destroy our current agreement, for what it’s worth,” Nestra continued just as a few raiders scoffed. “It would also ruin any chance we have at future treaties. It would be to the death now and until we destroy all the tribes from here to the other planet’s poles.”

Her declaration was received with grim stupor. A few gazes went to Semerdjian, who was resting his chin on his torso. Terrible posture, Nestra thought.

“Professor,” she offered. “Would you agree with this statement?”

“Yes, and not just that but the specifics of a blood conflict means that they would be targeting civilians with even more vigor than the warriors. So. Probably not recommended.”

“If, however, we bring them to a conclave with proof of their wrongdoings, we can extract concessions from them. Large ones. Tribes, I think, are poor. Most of the usual compensations recorded by the remembrancers are material in nature, but if we ask for more diplomatic boons…”

“Like they respected those,” Boulder Jaw, sorry, Jim said.

“But they did,” Nestra cut. “That’s the thing.”

“Let’s go back on that one,” the commander said. “You say they didn’t break the treaty. I seem to remember they’re supposed to warn us when we get attacked.”

“By enemies and monsters,” Nestra said, raising a finger.

They didn’t get it. Only her instinctual understanding of the lizard tongue allowed her to do so.

“There are several words for enemies in the lizard tongue. The one we expected them to use was for ‘general threat’, however, and according to the translation software we use, enemies specifically means enemies of the tribe… and the attackers were not enemies of the Carved Tusk.”

“You mean a wording mistake made it so that they don’t have to warn us when other lizardmen approach?”

Semerdjian gasped like he was having an epiphany.

“But of course…”

Nestra waved in his direction, allowing him to explain.

“Not lizardmen. Hostile tribes, specifically. So long as there is no war declared between the other tribes and them, they are not bound to warn us of their approach.”

“Normally it shouldn’t matter,” Nestra continued, “but I suspect the attackers bribed the Carved Tusk. That would also explain why one of their B-class was trying to help the survivors escape along the river: no prisoners to interrogate.”

“This is still an act of war,” the head of the doctors said. “Even if we spent a decade building this alliance, I don’t want them anywhere near us in the future if they’re going to backstab us like that.”

There were enough people watching Nestra to encourage her to reply.

“I didn’t mention the efforts Threshold already did because that would be sunk cost fallacy. Rather, I think we need to consider our options. One of them leads to centuries of war without mercy, the other leads to further benefits and the respect of the lizardmen in general for winning on their terms. Word of our cunning will travel.”

“There is a third path,” Jim said, wintery eyes shining with contained mana. “We gather that conclave thing and declare war on them. Send a message.”

Nestra conceded the point with a shrug.

“Sure, I guess, but they would expect us to ask for compensation. The declaration of war would be something they don’t understand.”

“It would be justified,” he replied.

“That is true, just as it’s true that the price would be high. Their treachery cost the life of Colonel Tseng, no question, but they weren’t the ones who attacked us. I urge you to recommend what’s best for the city, and with that, I am done. Thank you for your attention.”

The room exploded in low conversations. One voice cut it almost immediately.

“Excuse me, Miss Palladian was it? Since when are you an expert in xeno-studies? I don’t remember seeing you in our department.”

“Errrr.”

All eyes were on her.

“Since 6PM?”

That was not the right thing to say.

***

The minor commotion left Nestra confused. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? Most of those people seem impressed. She and Camille had still been thanked then sent off while the adults deliberated. It was almost 3AM by now, and Nestra was starting to flag.

“I think we should rest. Those elders are going to call us back in the morning for another round of bullshit if they’re anything like my own,” Camille grumbled.

“Fair enough,” Nestra replied.

Her pillow was calling to her. It was such a shame it was just the one. She missed her den.

“I have one more question,” Camille said.

“Hmm?”

“Why? Why do you go out of your way? Why do you care so much? Why do you risk yourself like that?”

Nestra gave herself a moment. She knew why, she just needed to say the words out loud. Meanwhile, Camille wasn’t done.

“I’m grateful because you helped me… and the Sword King to an extent, but surely you see the risks.”

“Because I was powerless for a long time and now I’m not, so I need to act. Because I am an alien, and when people inevitably find out, my behavior will come under scrutiny and I have a chance to impress them for the future of both species.”

Hopefully. If her Aszhii genitor wasn’t the standard.

“And finally for me. Because I want to make the world a better place than if I hadn’t existed.”

Camille accepted her explanation with a neutral expression.

“Anyone but you I would have called them out for being full of shit, but seeing as you’ve bled for your beliefs before…”

“Yep. Now go to bed. I want to wake up early tomorrow so we try my new form before the proverbial inevitably hits the fan.”