That night lightning quaked sourceless to the west beyond midnight thunderheads, but never quite reached the Jotunheim. Itxaro watched it as it crept ever closer in the darkness like some malevolent spirit dragging itself towards the living, only to break and dissipate as fast as it formed. The sky cleared, and Itxaro watched as an endless river of stars went past, each one foreign and brilliant and new to her eyes.
She slept fitfully after that, her leg like an evil visitant in the bed with her, itching as torn flesh healed. No more painkillers. Doctor's orders. Itxaro had enough to occupy her mind after the strange day so it bothered her little.
The sun rose over jagged, snow-peaked mountaintops to the east, though Itxaro was up well before it. After yesterday's madness, Shirik had made her an offer too good to pass up - a naturalist tour of sorts. Itxaro had never been hunting or fishing in her life, but time spent learning the local flora and fauna would be better than staring at an FTL engine that wouldn't function until the more practical-minded engineers were able to restore power. The two agreed to meet by the nearby lake downhill from the Jotunheim which she had only seen from a distance, and was eager to see up close.
Itxaro gathered what she figured might be useful and packed it all into her sea bag. A cargo net, some duct tape, an MRE, and a crudely welded “fishing pole” consisting of an aluminum pipe with a few rings welded on and a spool of plastic wire, along with some even more rudimentary metal fishing hooks. She doused the sea bag in her homemade borax concoction, hoping it would prevent the canvas bag from igniting on her back. Booted, pistoled, shotgun slung across her shoulder, and feeling like some kind of itinerant vagrant, she let Chief Zhao know her plans before making her into the wider world.
Once out of sight from the Jotunheim, Itxaro unpinned her white hair, letting it tumble down savage and unkempt, and wriggled her arms free of the grey jumpsuit's sleeves, tying them at the waist, before throwing on a crumpled ball cap embroidered with the Jotunheim's logo. The simple change made her feel more herself, as if she was going on a camping trip instead of stranded on an alien world. Itxaro smiled to herself before pressing on through the trees, watching as strange birds flushed from each branch at her passing.
------
Shirik didn’t sleep like most. For weeks or even months at a time, they didn’t sleep
at all. All throughout the night, they gathered sticks and tall blades of grass to fabricate fishing tools. When the morning came, they were by the lake which was fed from rivers that ran through the entire countryside. The fish that swam through were native species all the way from Mythadia. It was the perfect place to catch something.
By the time Ixtaro came down to meet them, there was already a thick, grassy line in the colder water. On the ground next to Shirik was a large net made of woven grass spread out to wrap a fish up once caught. Shirik’s cloak was propped up with branches like a small tent, and they sat cross-legged on the shore. Silent and unmoving like a statue.
And entirely aware of Ixtaro approaching from behind.
”There you are.”"Here I am," Itxaro confirmed as she strode past the dwarf evergreens nearest the lakeshore where rich soil transitioned into loose sand.
"Didn't think I'd miss this, did ya?" Itxaro asked rhetorically, sweeping the landscape with a free hand. The glacial lake was surrounded by tall pines, or what passed for pines on this planet, and the shore was studded with polished rocks intermingled with soft dark sand. On the far shore, a herd of bison-like creatures with what looked like green grass growing on their backs waded into the turquoise water and drank deeply. Birds the color of slate with trailing plumage circled the area, and occasionally one would dive into the mirrored surface of the water below and emerge with some aquatic creature trapped in their long beak. It was all beautiful, unlike anything she'd seen back on Earth, even in old footage before the ecosystem started to crumble.
Itxaro turned her attention from the scenery to Shirik's fishing implements; similar to her own improvised equipment, but more... Crunchy. She emptied the contents of her bag onto the sand before taking a seat next to Shirik.
"I'll be real with you Shirik, I haven't been fishing since I was a kid, so any pointers would be much appreciated. What's today's catch?" Itxaro asked as she fumbled with her own rod and line.
”That depends entirely on what takes the bait. Nakaresk, Greenjaws, Soreltails, or more could be swimming through here. Water from this lake runs through rivers all the way from Mythadia and the mountains to the north. You could catch anything here.” Shrink was in another one of those mellowed out moods, apparently. Who would’ve guessed the tree knew a thing or two about nature?
There was barely a sound on the lake beyond the distant din of work happening from the Jotunheim.
”I have no need for food, but there are few things that mend rifts quite as well as something cooked to perfection and shared among the people.”Itxaro clumsily threaded her line through the rod’s rings and looked it over with dismay.
Graduated from the best engineering program in the USASR and you can’t even make a primitive tool. Nice. She shrugged, figuring it would have to do, before attempting to tie on a hook as she spoke.
“Naksek and Soretails, right. Think they’d like beef stew? No one on the Jotunheim does.” she tilted her chin to the emergency ration on the rocks nearby, which was labeled
SAVORY BEEF CHUNKS WITH POTATOES AND VEGETABLES. She’d had the meal only once, and that was one time too many.
No need for food. What the hell is going on with this planet? Itxaro racked her brain thinking of life on earth that didn’t require any form of sustenance at all and drew a blank. It seemed contrary to the laws of physics and what little she knew about biology. Then again, neither of those included magic in their calculations. She decided to leave the topic for another time.
“You sure that’s a rift you want to mend? Seemed like everyone was pretty happy being at eachother’s throats,” Itxaro said as she remembered yesterday’s shouting match. She was all for it, of course, but had a sneaking suspicion it would simply end up like last time. Or worse.
Itxaro opened up the MRE and quickly attached a piece of “beef”, or whatever it
really was, onto her hook and resealed the package before the fetid smell of synthetic meat and barely-edible vegetables reached her nose.
“Maybe Silbermine doesn’t have to know about this cookout?” She cast her line, nearly snagging herself with the hook in the process.
”You already know what Silbermine intends to do. I expect Zeynap finds both sides to have merit. She will do as she wishes, and you will inevitably follow her lead. Silbermine’s type is one I’ve watched tear this world apart for countless years. More so than most people alive today in this world. His knights follow him because they must. Without a lord to uplift them, they might starve or be cast out to the lowest of their people.”Shirik idly watched Ixtaro with that contraption of hers. Was it metal like the rest of their strange objects? Curious.
”Nellara means well. I know this, because it is in her nature to be so. The place she is from is a night and day difference to Silbermine. Divine right and self-affirmation are things that cannot exist together. So, no. I don’t believe Silbermine must know. But that isn’t for me to say. The Ascendancy will value you all as partners in trade, and Silbermine values you as a political token. I stand to gain nothing from entertaining either of those, but you and Zeynap do. It is her decision to invite him. Not mine.”Itxaro stretched her long limbs out before her, digging furrows into the sand with her bootheels before settling into a figure four with her sore leg sitting out straight. She scoffed at Shirik’s first comment.
“Zey’s gonna do whatever she wants to, and most of the crew will follow, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna go along with it. C’mon.” Itxaro reeled her line in idly as she spoke, hoping the movement might draw in some strange fish.
“And what’s Silbermine’s type? Nobility? Or just someone with power? We’ve had both back home, and both types are assholes. What separates the Ascendancy from Mythadia, aside from how those in power get it?” Itxaro said, giving up on trying to tempt any fish and instead turned to face Shirik.
“Doesn’t matter if you’re born into it, ordained by the Gods, or earn it, either way you’ll abuse it. Hurt those weaker than you. Exploit them for as long as you’re able.” She was dipping into Marxist rhetoric, just a touch, to see how receptive Shirik would be. Purely out of curiosity, of course.
She shrugged her broad shoulders and looked back to the lake and the distant mountains.
“Between you and me, I think we can outplay Silbermine. That’s half the battle, right? Play his little game, take his money, then be done with it. But if the benevolent rulers of these nations don’t want to play politics, then fuck it, let them slaughter eachother out there,” Itxaro said, nodding her chin to the northern fields. She didn’t mean this. In fact, the thought of nameless soldiers killing each other for plunder horrified her. But Itxaro hoped it proved her point; they could resolve this without bloodshed if they just
tried.
“Pretty novel idea, I’m sure it’s never been done before.” Itxaro thought she felt something tug at her line, but after excitedly reeling it in there was only the hook and bait. She sighed after casting it back out into the lake.
“I thought you said there were fish here.”After hearing everything Ixtaro just said, Shirik had to think of how to best explain the way things worked around here.
”I have watched both of their nations rise up from nothing. I am older than both the Ascendancy and Mythadia’s nobility, much older. This is how they’ve both been for centuries. They are both set in their ways, for better or for worse. I won’t pretend that siding with either is a flawless decision. Mythadia’s faith dictates how they rule, and those in the lowest rung of their society are forced to stay there for the sake of the nobleman’s power.”Shirik noticed a ripple appear across the lake’s surface, but continued.
”In the Ascendancy, there is no help. You aren’t forced to stay in a caste like Mythadia, but no one will help you obtain anything. You work for everything you have, and the slightest lapse in success can mean your downfall. Merit, and merit alone is what they judge a person by, so much so that your family would be imprisoned for leaving behind an inheritance for you. In your situation, Ixtaro, they will only entertain your presence so long as you have something of material value for them. But they won’t lie about it.””If a fire destroys their homes, they are expected to either pay for their home to be rebuilt, or to build it again themselves. You are on your own in that nation.”Another ripple. Closer this time.
”I care very little for that heartless nature of the Ascendancy, but Nellara’s presence is far less sickening than Silbermine’s. He’s a warlord. A conqueror, who only cares for himself. He wants to claim your skyward vessel because it will make him powerful beyond measure in the political sphere of Mythadia. Others would flock to his House and pledge their loyalty, their skills, and their weapons to him. I told you I was a soldier. I went to war against people like him.”Itxaro turned Shirik’s words over and over in her head. Initially, she’d considered the Ascendancy the better choice, but now she wasn’t so sure. Their commitment to “meritocracy,” as they deemed it, seemed to border on insanity to her, like some sort of demented libertarianism.
Every man an island. Any state that operated with this economic system, Itxaro figured, would have collapsed decades ago, but Shirik said the Ascendancy had been like this for a long time.
But where does the wealth go? Capital is almost always accumulated in the family first and grows from there. What does the state do with the money, if they’re seizing the assets? Certainly not investing in the welfare of their citizens.Feudalism, for all its woes, at least offered a system of support. Peasants supported eachother and their lord, while the lord offered some measure of protection and charity in return. Not perfect, and more exploitative than outright capitalism, Itxaro considered, but certainly less cruel than “every man for themselves.” She determined that there
must be more to it than what Shirik was letting on. Itxaro reminded herself that she was on an alien world and her framework for social analysis might not apply.
Itxaro sat in silence for a few moments, returning to reality just in time to see ripple in the water near her improvised bobber. Her body tensed, but the ripple faded and she relaxed.
“Alright, so say you are us. What would you do in our situation? Join the Ascendency and go to war? ” Itxaro asked; it came off as sarcastic, but she meant it as an earnest question. She spread out her legs before bringing her knees up to her chest. She held the aluminum rod in her prosthetic hand while the other idly drew circles in the sand.
”I would side with neither of them. I’d find my own way to walk and see what the path leads to.”The bobber dipped into the water for just a moment and reappeared on the surface but it went unnoticed. Only when the line drew taut and the spooled string began running did Itxaro realize she had a fish on the line. She also realized with a twinge of shame that she’d forgotten to include any method of reeling the line in when constructing her fishing rod; just rope on a stick.
Itxaro dug her feet into the loose sand and braced herself just as the line ran out, but whatever had taken the bait was larger than she’d anticipated. Much larger. In an instant Itxaro was pulled to her feet as she struggled with the rod.
”Uh, Shirik, how big are the fish in this lake?” She asked nervously.
”Very.”The fish yanked aggressively in answer and flung Itxaro to the ground. She came up spitting sand from her mouth. Itxaro tried to let go of the rod’s crude handle, but her prosthetic had locked up in response to the slipping metal and wouldn’t budge. The fish rallied and pulled again, dragging her closer to the water’s edge. She frantically braced her free hand and feet as best one could when belly down.
“Shirik - help!” She didn’t notice his own line growing taut.
Shirik resisted the Herculean urge to cackle. Looking back at their own line and then Ixtaro’s, Shirik flicked their fingers towards the water, and a small fireball the size of Ixtaro’s skull was lobbed forth into the water. In response, a fish leapt up out of the water, scared by the sudden flash of steam.
The fish had Ixtaro’s hook between its jaws, and landed just inches away from her. It was 3 feet long, covered in bristly red scales and had whisker-like appendages protruding from its body. Shirik then grabbed their rod with both hands and hauled on it, dragging a fish out of the water slowly.
As it broke the water’s surface, mud and sand flicked up in every direction as the absolute behemoth on Shirik’s line was revealed. No shorter than Ixtaro was tall, and at least 2 feet wide. The fish had a flat face and dark gray scales, with stubby appendages that looked like feet. By the time it left the water and flopped for oxygen, Shirik could no longer drag the beast forward.
Now they were cackling in amusement at this catch.
”I haven’t seen one of these in centuries!””Jesus, Shirik. Give me a warning next time,” Itxaro said in disbelief as she watched the fish bow and shudder on the shore.
What she wanted a warning for, Itxaro wasn’t sure. Giant fish, fireballs, perhaps both. They were
monsters to be sure, bigger than anything she’d seen dragged from the water before.
Itxaro stood up and wrenched her prosthetic free of the now mangled aluminum rod. She shook like a wet dog, trying to rid herself of the sand now covering her body.
“Thanks though. Didn’t think a city girl like me could catch a fish like that, did ya?” Itxaro added as she swiped away sand clinging to her arms and stomach. She couldn’t help join in Shirik’s laughter, both at the absurdity of the situation and out of relief.
“Wasn’t planning on a swim this morning. What do we do with these big bastards now? And what the hell do you call them?” She eyed the two fish suspiciously, as if they had somehow conspired to drag her into the lake. Itxaro kept her distance from them.
”What I caught is called a Murkmaw. Yours is a Soreltail. Now, all we have to do is drag them up the hill and cool them. That’s why I brought the net.”
After binding their catches in the grass net, the two hauled their catch back up through the woods and into the clearing between the Jotunheim and the Ascendency’s camp. Shirik led Ixtaro to a small clump of 3 feet tall wooden sticks embedded in the ground. Next to it was a setup that allowed slices of meat to be hung over the ground. Under it was a smoking put full of blackened wood, smoking like the night of the crash.
”This is the part where you learn why I am the greatest heat mage to ever walk this land,” Shirik proclaimed in a near uncanny amount of confidence compared to any of their previous conversations.
”All I need from you is the sharpest knife you can bring me.” As they said this Shirik began tearing bark off of trees.
Itxaro shook her leg, still ridding herself of sand that had crept into her clothes, and rummaged through her pack before brandishing a large combat knife in its sheath.
"Alright, world's greatest mage, let's see what you can do," Itxaro teased as she watched the Iriad work.
"I still want an answer to my question that Murkmaw so rudely interrupted, by the way." She held the sheathed knife out to Shirik, hilt-first.
”What would you do in our shoes?”Accepting the curiously shaped metal knife, Shirik confided.
”I would ignore the bargains of political leaders. I would pick a direction and simply walk. What happens after simply happens. If I became the king of the strange new world or died within the hour, then I would have done both on my own terms.”“Hmm. Ok. Not really an option for us, but good to know.” Shirik’s answer didn’t exactly provide Itxaro with a great alternative, but it certainly spoke volumes about what kind of being they were.
With that being said and done, Shirik slowly dragged the Murkmaw up over one shoulder and unceremoniously dropped it onto its back, over the spikes where it was impaled. The Sorelrail was impaled upon the spikes beside it in the same way. Shirik quickly and thoughtlessly scraped away every single scale in minutes. They then removed all the extremities from the Murkmaw with near surgical precision, laying them gently on the grass net along with a handful of sappy bark strips. The Soreltail was on the same way, except the fins were kept as well.
The next thing Shirik did was open them up, slicing away even, calculated chunks of flesh in rectangular cuts. There was enough flesh on the Murkmaw that Shirik skewered at least three slabs on every spike. Ixtaro was reminded of
pinchos morunos, a sort of kebab, in the way they were laid out. She watched, obviously impressed with Shirik’s deft knife handling. In ten minutes, the guts of the Murkmaw were fully looted from its corpse. Blood began to well inside the newfound cavity, but this was intended.
Shirik did much the same for the smaller Soreltail, except they cut away its meat in longer strips, which were then cut in half and then fourths and laid across the cooking spit beside the spikes. These were higher above the ground. The smoke rose up and would eventually dry the meat out, making it edible for weeks after, or feed people for one evening if it was shared.
Shirik stepped back and began to draw shapes out of fire. A glowing ring of yellow light encircled the spikes, as the light arched over like the frame of a dome. Shirik raised their arms over their head, and the ring slammed itself into the dirt without a sound, causing the grass and the ground itself to ignite in a brilliant fire. The wooden stakes were untouched by the blaze, but the heat began to cook the meat slowly.
They then drew a small circle with one finger, and threw it into the pit like a frisbee, causing the smoke beneath the Soreltail to come up in greater volume. Shirik walked over and picked up the bark stripes, slowly dropping the sap on them onto the Murkmaw meat to add flavor to it.
With another hand, they made a circle over the harvested fins that quickly seared the very air around them, drying the fins out and cooking them in seconds. Strange as it may sound, the fins of a Soreltail tasted very peppery when cooked soon after being severed from the body.
”The feast will be ready shortly. Tell Zeynap that she is more than welcome to attend, and bring as many guests as she would like. I can feed over 30 people with this catch. I’ll tell Kareet and the Castigator shortly.”Itxaro looked over the spread, barely to contain her excitement to eat food that hadn’t been pickled in fetid chemicals for several months. It might poison her, but judging from the smell of roasting fish, it just might be worth it.
"I'll let'em know, see if we can't have the science team check if this is safe to - ah, fuck it." Itxaro grabbed one of the skewered fins, from the Soreltail she thought, and bit into the flaky flesh. It was cooked through, so hopefully no risk of parasites, and the taste was exceptional; richer than she'd expected, dense, and almost spicy.
"Oh yeah," Itxaro said as she chewed with a grin,
"Not bad, chef, you've outdone yourself. How'd a tree get so good at cooking?" Itxaro started to walk off in search of the commander, food in hand, but turned back to the strange creature tending to the fire. they were truly and utterly alien in every sense of the word. And yet, this alien had likely just saved her life an hour ago, and was now attempting, in their way, to broker some kind of peace between the humans and Ascendency via medieval barbeque.
I think I owe him. Big time.Itxaro wasn't big on thank you's, but she tried.
"We'll have to do this again sometime. Maybe hunt some grazing animals, or at least something that won't try to drown me."Shrink nodded to Ixtaro, and as she left, they turned and shouted in Kareet and Vigis’ direction.
”Kareet! You’re invited to eat with us and the humans shortly! Tell the Castigator if you see her!”And then they turned their full attention to the food.
1x Laugh
