Water rushed down his throat in a torrent as Hoplite chugged half his canteen before gasping and re-sealing it. Today he would ask Lance an important question that had been at the back of his mind since the Harkhall had told him that he was an outworlder. Slowly but surely, Hoplite was beginning to think that this really was an alternate reality, where the laws of physics he knew and understood simply didn’t apply where it should have. It was difficult for him to think that way, but until he found definitive proof that this really was a lost colony… Well, that would be a part of the question he would be asking Lance.

He opened the flap to his tent, peeking in to see Michael sound asleep and somehow already looking significantly healthier, a bowl of that mush sitting beside his bedroll. His cheeks had filled out completely, and his arms were beginning to regain the girth that Michael had claimed they once possessed. Another unexplained anomalous ability, increasing the nutritional density of foodstuffs… by praying to a god… Hoplite winced at the thought… re-indoctrination… No, he would not be re-indoctrinated for trying to ascertain the functions of this world. He closed the flap again, turning to face the many trees in the Faewood. They hadn’t traveled far from the Fiendwall, but Hoplite had still wanted to be well away from the locals to keep Michael from harm.

The now setting sun’s orange light poured between the dozens of leaves overhead, casting several dancing shadows that moved throughout the woods and across his looming form. He looked up at Lance, who had been perched high on a tree branch near the edge of the forest leading toward the Fiendwall. He knew that she was keeping an eye on the camp far below, using the tree’s great height as a vantage point.

Being that high up looking down on the valley, there was no way anyone could possibly come up this way without her seeing them. Still, Hoplite had begun guarding the tent in case somehow that did happen, or if a stray fiend somehow had found its way up here before the defenders had gotten set up around the breach. It’s been a few hours now since Gali had given them the tents, one smaller one for Lance and the larger one for him and Michael. He had made sure not to mention to Gali where they intended to set up.

It wasn’t because he didn’t trust the man, it was that prying ears could easily pick up on what was being said. It could have been a doctor in the infirmary, or even a nearby Fiendwaller listening through the canvas from the outside. Hoplite would not risk Michael’s life to give Gali info he didn’t need. The mayor thankfully didn’t seem to be offended by Hoplite’s intent, but he sure did look amused when Hoplite told him that the camp wasn’t safe for Michael.

Gali did agree to get the camp’s attention so they could leave without any notice, calling a mandatory meeting to discuss what would be done about the breach. Such a thing needed to be discussed anyhow, Gali had claimed. Never in the thousand years since the Fiendwall’s erection had it been breached, and figuring out how to repair it was going to be a monumental task.

This was due to the fact that the Fiendwall was not built normally. It was a thin mountain of bedrock that had been risen from the earth in a solid chunk to keep out the fiends. There were no seams, no bricks, just solid rock that had been hollowed out after it had been raised to make accommodations for living. Gali had said that Fiendwallers were descendants of criminals from the city of Grayshane, or just criminals from Grayshane sent to live in the wall as a punishment.

The Fiendwaller’s didn’t seem to treat it as a punishment from what Hoplite could see, besides having to make their homes in the wall and not the valley like several had apparently wanted.

Hoplite turned his attention back to Lance, right now he didn’t want to think about the Fiendwall. He needed to ask her this question now.

He took a step forward, his boots making deep imprints into the thick grass with his heavy steps. Lance turned to look at him, breaking her perfect stillness from her crouched position atop the branch. Their eyes met for a moment before Hoplite slipped his helmet back on, and Lance seemed to smile at the eye contact. For what reason he wasn’t entirely sure. As he drew closer to the tree, being sure to keep the tent in sight, Lance began descending the tree with a practiced smoothness.

For a moment she almost appeared to be falling with how fast she was able to move down the tree, but he could see how her hands and feet worked in tandem down the branches. He’d seen other watchers climb up and down trees much like Lance was currently doing, yet her movements were fluid compared to the other elves. When she was down at the base of the tree, she turned and began to approach Hoplite, a small skip in her step as she went and a smile plastered on her face. What was she so happy about?

When she finally drew close, she stopped, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned toward him “So you want to talk to me?”

“...Yes.” Hoplite said after a moment's pause.

Lance nodded to herself then, as if to confirm something she had been sure of. Hoplite didn’t know what that was of course, but maybe she just assumed he wanted to talk when he began moving toward her. Lance turned her head to look behind her at the treeline where she had come from, her long black hair shifting to follow the sudden motion. She looked back to him and grinned.

“Well? What do you want to talk about?” She asked him in a bubbly tone “I could see it in your eyes- oh right, you wouldn’t know what that means.” She said, shifting her tone to be more explanatory as she put one finger beneath one eyelid “So, elves all have some talent with what's known to us as ‘Dok-ah’, to put it simply, eye magic.” She continued, removing her finger “You experienced the pinnacle of those talents when you met the Harkhall, all elves have one unique Dok-ah and the common one that allows all elves to peer behind the veils of the eyes.”

Hoplite narrowed his eyes behind his helmet “What does that mean? That you can read my mind if we share eye contact?”

Another anomalous ability he would be keeping in mind for the future. He needed to keep his thoughts from steering toward project CHIMERA while his helmet was off…

“Not precisely…” Lance said with a wince “I can… well, I can see your emotions and guess intentions based on them. When we made eye contact while I was in the tree, I could see your curiosity peak.” She said with a small shrug “I assumed it was because you wanted to talk to me.”

“I do. But not about this… Dok-ah.” Hoplite said flatly “We’ll continue on that subject another time. Right now I have a more important matter I want to discuss with you.”

Lance’s eyes opened wider, looking expectant.

“...Why do you all speak Jynesian?” Hoplite asked.

It had been in the back of his mind for a long while now. It was why he hadn’t completely shifted toward the conclusion that this was an alternate dimension.

“That is the one language of humanity, Jynesian standard. Everyone I’ve met here speaks it.” Hoplite continued “When our Lord conquered Earth; Terna now, he commanded that all under his reign speak a single tongue. Jynesian standard.”

Lance blinked and then shook her head “We’re speaking in Saiharan my friend.” Lance said “Back in the first age, known as Premas, the head god of the Knowledge Pillar: Saihara, created the common tongue for the mortal races to use. It was named Saiharan by Zodd in honor of her works for his children, and it’s been called that ever since.” Lance told him with a sigh “That’s likely one of the only things leftover from the first age… most else has been forgotten by now.”

Saiharan… Jynesian… It could still be that this was truly a lost colony that had made up a mythology. The thought somehow felt hollow. How was it possible that two different worlds in two separate dimensions could develop the same language? No, it simply couldn’t be. That made no sense… Unless…

“I’ve been called outworlder before,” Hoplite said “So other Ternans have been here before? In the past?”

Lance nodded “They have to be, all outworlders come from the same realm, but the name of it has been lost to history. There hasn’t been an outworlder in the current age besides yourself Hoplite, and your friend that is.”

“What age is it now?” Hoplite asked, the words almost rushing out as the freshly grown hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“It’s Decuma, the tenth age.” She said “If someone on Ahkoolis were to give you a date… it would be Decuma Laprila seventeenth.”

Hoplite paused before asking “Were there outworlders in the first age?”

Lance nodded again, taking a deep breath before speaking “There were likely outworlders here that predated the first age actually, but yes there were outworlders in the first age, as well as all ages save for Decuma.”

If that was the case… If that was true… Then that would mean that, despite what Lance had told him, Saiharan wasn’t made by the gods…

It had to be a Ternan that had. But Jynesian was only made standard two-thousand years ago… Decuma was apparently past its two-thousandth year… That left only one possible explanation. Time during dimensional travel had to be warped in some way. Hoplite didn’t know how, he was no scientist, but that was the only… he struggled to think: logical conclusion he could come to.

His shoulders slumped slightly, a showing that he’d not normally allow anyone to view, but he couldn’t help it. It was near overwhelming to accept that the impossible had really happened… his world was flipped on its head and nothing he knew of reality could totally apply any longer. Suddenly, something filled his right hand and he looked up to see Lance’s hand gripping his own.

It was tiny, nearly engulfed in his thick metal gauntlet, yet Hoplite could still feel her squeezing hand through the sensors. An alien feeling he didn’t know how to respond to.

“It’s okay my friend.” Lance said in a gentle tone “I know it must be a lot to come to grips with… especially considering how obstinate you’ve been about Ahkoolis.” She said with a small laugh “But I’ll be here to help you out, you can ask me whatever questions you want and I’ll answer them to the best of my ability… I’m not a historian after all. ”She finished with a shrug “And… well, I’ve been thinking about it but… I’d like to come with you to help find your friends, if you’ll have me. I just need to come before the Harkhall and request for temporary leave, but I know they’ll approve, I’ve been at the job for two-hundred years now without a break!” She said with exasperation “Maybe I do need a break from the forest to go on a real adventure, what do you say?” Lance asked with a smile, looking up at him with those hopeful green eyes.

Hoplite remained silent for a long time before finally squeezing her hand back; gently of course, lifting it up to give it a firm shake.

“Affirmative.” He told her.