“A shambler! Don’t let it touch you!” Tyto shouted. He and every zeraph scrambled to get away from the walking corpse.

The abomination raised their hands placatingly.

“We have not come here to force mother Raya’s gift upon you.”

“Your mere presence endangers our health!” Brantus cried. “Leave lest you wish to be riddled with spear points.”

“We suspect that the one we’ve come to speak with could not be baptized even if mother Raya willed it.” The shambler's lifeless head flopped towards Zhu. Their host's face may have been locked into a permanent grimace, but the parasitic worms were surprisingly expressive. Their rapid spasms indicated that they were just as disturbed by the devourer as he was of them.

“What do you want?” Zhu asked. He handed his pistol to Sarin, unable to trust himself to not shoot the thing.

“We suspect we know what you want. To escape this forsaken place, yes?”

“Well, it would be nice to see what is on the other side of that wall.”

“Then you must speak with Doctor Hawkwood.”

“The Worm King,” a zeraph growled.

The shambler ignored that outburst. “The good doctor wishes to speak with you face to face.”

Zhu blanched. Common sense dictated that this Worm King would be more revolting than its messenger. He tried to flash the shambler a grin but failed miserably. “I try not to let gossip influence my opinion, but your boss has a pretty bad rep. How do I know this isn’t some sort of trap?”

The worm colony bristled with indignation. “The true children of Raya would never stoop so low. But very well, let the collective that is called Rite-of-Spring die a thousand deaths should their comrades lure this dragon and his followers under false pretenses.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Do we get to squish nasty pimple-man yet?” a jumbo whispered loudly.

“Don’t think so,” another jumbo replied.

Zhu stroked his barbels. “You’ve sprung this idea on us out of nowhere. Can I get something more than verbal assurances?”

“An oath should have been more than enough,” Rite-of-Spring said sourly. “But the good doctor was prepared for your unfounded reticence. Noname, Luke, please introduce yourselves!”

Zeraph screams echoed across the lands when a massive elephant-shaped corpse worm colony burst out of the ground. Zhu merely stroked his barbels. This newcomer was far less offensive on the eyes than Rite-Of-Spring. The writhing tide might have been an insectophobe's worst nightmare, but Zhu only saw potential. He studied its makeshift trunk intently. The resourceful creatures had fashioned a nose out of animal spines and improved upon nature’s design by grafting a skeletal hand to the tip.

“This is our ward. They have yet to decide a name for themselves.”

“Good tidings, lord Zhulong,” Noname rumbled. As they bent down, the worms covering their puppet’s ribcage parted, allowing their passenger to hop out of the hollow cavity.

“Whoo, that was stuffy!” the surprisingly normal-looking teen exclaimed. He removed his hat and bowed. “It is an honor to meet you. I am Luke, Doctor Hawkwood’s youngest son.”

Zhu didn’t see any parasites on Luke’s face, but remained alert. For all he knew, the skin beneath his clothes was drowning in pustules.

“Uh, yeah, nice to meet you. What exactly is going on right now?” Zhu asked.

“They are the additional assurances you requested. If you agree to speak with doctor Hawkwood, we will give them to you as hostages for four months.”

“Do you take us for fools?” Brantus snarled? “No doubt you seek to plant agents within our communities so you can infect us!”

“We are not members of Raya’s clergy,” Luke replied. “I would take off my clothes to prove that to you, but it's rather cold out here.”

Rook shook her head. “Even if your skin is untouched, you still may have many subtle illnesses at your disposal.”

“We swear we will not infect you with anything,” Noname promised. “We are aspiring scholars that wish to see the world and have declined Raya's gifts to see that dream through.”

The zeraphs scowled when Noname uttered the word “gifts”.

“If you truly have rejected Raya, then who will you invoke your oaths to?” Tyto demanded.

Luke tapped his chin in thought. “Seiradan, I suppose.” He nodded to himself in confirmation. “I swear to Seiradan that I will not infect you with any illnesses or afflictions.”

“May Baetyle smite us should this collective play Zhulong false,” Noname said.

The zeraphs gasped. Zhu and the Lunarians looked on in confusion. The jumbos played with rocks or scratched their unmentionables.

“Do these pinkie promises actually do anything?” Zhu whispered.

“Yes,” Shrike replied hotly.

When Zhu glanced at Sarin, the synth shrugged. “All the information I have on this subject comes from her.”

To Zhu’s exasperation, Rite-Of-Spring took out a piece of parchment and started reciting a painfully long and detailed oath. Based on the grudging looks the zeraphs gave them, they were offering generous terms, but Zhu couldn’t help but feel like he was being sold a jar of snake oil. Verbal promises meant absolutely nothing to him.

Zhu wasn’t the only one that was bored and completely lost.

“Do we smash now?” the jumbo from before asked.

“No!” his companion responded. “Why you want to smash so bad? Your bashy stick will turn blechy if you smack-bash nasty thingy.”

“—and should any significant harm befall Zhulong or any of his associates, because of our actions, we swear upon Raya that we will atone for sins with our lives.” Rite-of-Spring finished forty minutes later. They held out the documents they had been reading off of.

Zhu jolted when Shrike elbowed his chin.

“There was no need for that. I was paying attention.” Using a rag as a makeshift glove, he gingerly grabbed the contract. Zhu leaned over to Sarin. “No, I wasn’t. What do you think we should do?”

“If their leader genuinely wants to meet us in good faith, this would be a perfect opportunity for us to negotiate passage over his territory,” she glanced at Rite-Of-Spring. “However, I am leery of allowing possibly contaminated creatures into the city. The zeraphs may see these types of oaths as binding, but I am not confident that they truly are. I would suggest that we agree to meet them but remain on high alert. We can sequester the hostages in a remote part of the city or build them a shelter outside of it.”

Zhu still felt like was falling for an obvious trap but, realizing he was on a strict deadline—he slithered forward—praying that the path laid out in front of him wasn’t matting over a pit.

“Alright,” Zhu decided. “I’ll meet the Doc.”

Silence fell over them.

“Oh,” Zhu grunted once he realized that Rite-of-Spring was waiting for him to make an oath in return. “Uh, let Kanghui shuk my dicks with a potato peeler if I kill or maim any of you guys during this meeting.”

There was the sound of somebody slapping their forehead.

It was hard to tell what Rite-of-Spring thought of his oath, but they spoke in an amicable fashion. “When and where can we expect to meet you?”

“Well, this was kind of abrupt, so I’ll need some time to gather my thoughts. I’ll send a messenger to you soon.”

“Very well. Good tidings to you, young dragon.” As they departed, several other corpses emerged from the ground. “Calm yourselves,” Rite-of-Spring said before anyone could commence an attack. “These are my other vessels.”

“Zargon, take half of our guys and escort Luke and Noname to Parabellum. Don’t let them inside until further. Make sure that you tend to their needs.” Zhu ordered.

Zargon bowed stiffly. The warmonger and the troops assigned to him gingerly formed a wide rectangle around the two hostages.

Once they were sure that the Worm King’s associates could not hear them, the zeraphs bombarded Zhu with statements and questions.

“You mustn't consort with those abominations, great shenlong!” Rook urged.

“Not too keen on talking to a bunch of maggot-ridden zombies myself. If I could wipe them out with a push of a button I would, but something tells me they won't go down easily."

“With respect, the followers of Raya are an insidious lot,” Tyto added. “When they extend a hand of friendship, it is only so they can spread their vile diseases.”

“I’d wager we're a lot more likely to catch a plague if we trade blows with them." Zhu refrained from mentioning his other main concern—that they didn't have the resources to wage a prolonged invasion. Creating and supplying a forward base would be herculean task in this climate. Malnourished soldiers were already at greater risk of contracting diseases. If the Worm King's forces were half as formidable as he feared, he'd end up with the mother of all cholera outbreaks.

"We have to get past that wall somehow. I'll hear them out at least.” Zhu flashed the chieftain a wicked grin. "Besides, this is a good opportunity to get some reconnaissance in. Since they opened up these negotiations they won't be in a position to complain if one of my messengers decides to scope their place out. If we discover some convenient weakness I'll happily do away with diplomacy and exterminate those diseased degenerates, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Chances are we'll have to place nice with them for a year or two. Then, when they let their guard down we can blow them to kingdom come."

Rook and Tyto remained unconvinced but relented.

They were less willing to bite their tongues when Zhu suggested that they all return to Parabellum.

“We cannot just abandon the temple!” Brantus protested. “The corpse worms or the luddites will surely defile this sanctum if we do!”

“Defending this place and keeping another garrison supplied would be an unnecessary drain on our resources,” Dargoth snarled. The zeraphs gaped at him, horrified that a “dailong” was capable of such impious thoughts.

“I’ll have some of my transmuters seal the entrance. Don’t think a bunch of angry hippies or zombies can bust through solid stone. We can reopen it once we’re in a better position.”

Brantus and the other zeraphs refused to budge on the issue. “We cannot leave the temple unattended, honored long! We simply cannot!”

Zhu was just about to invoke his status as a “shenlong” when Shrike poked his shoulder. She led him away from the others and told him, “They are right. Now that you have unearthed the temple, it is our responsibility to watch over it.”

Zhu clicked his teeth. “I forgot you were a religious nutter too. Like I said, nothing bad is going to happen to your precious temple.”

“That does not matter. Kanghui and the tianlongs are proud beings. They will be outraged if you just give up one of their sacred sites without a fight.”

“I thought you said Kanghui was the god of wisdom or whatever,” Zhu grunted. “Shouldn’t he realize I am just making the safest play? There’s no way anybody will break into that place if I wall it off with concrete. If I leave a garrison here, there is a chance that they get overwhelmed and lose it.”

“I doubt that would happen. Your soldiers are formidable, and they are beyond counting.”

“Not as many as you think,” Zhu replied, his voice a tad harsher than usual. “Half of my troops are cold-blooded. They can’t survive in this kind of weather without climate regulators and it’s not like I can just crank those things out.”

“We were outnumbered earlier today, but your fighters made short work of those luddites. My people are more than capable of defending themselves. Give them proper weapons and they should be able to ward off any greenskin horde.”

“And what if the zombies decide to pull something? I have no idea how contagious those things are. For all I know, one guy getting bit can lead to all the others getting infected. Not to mention, overextension is just a bad idea in general. A quarter of the guys back at the base are slaves and a lot of the mercenaries have been in a pissy mood lately too. If I pull loyal soldiers and resources out of Parabellum, I might have a revolt on my hands.”

Shrike bit her lip. “Even so, Kanghui will expect you to defend the temple. This is a test. You must prove that you are worthy of bearing his banner.”

“That snake said less than ten words. How do you know what he wants?”

Shrike's eyes narrowed when that derogatory description came out of his mouth. “I don’t know why Kanghui spoke on your behalf, but that is not something he does often. Many longs have died trying to earn his favor. You can’t just throw that away! Who knows, if you continue to please him, he might even bestow you with the divine mandate.”

“The what?”

“Everyone that worships Kanghui would have to recognize you as their emperor. You would be endowed with incredible strength and remain young for centuries.”

“Pretty sure I already have those last two things on lock.”

“The greatest emperors ascended to the heavens and became apostles. Some even became gods.” Shrike gave him a few moments to digest that last statement.

Zhulong tilted his head skywards. He ran his fingers across his barbels and on the twentieth stroke, he said, “Fine. Dargoth, you’re in charge of keeping the building safe. Defend it with your life if you have to. Sarin, you got spiked barricades and barbed wire on you?”

“Affirmative, creator.”

“Give half of what you got to Dargoth and the zeraphs. I want that entrance to look like the mouth of hell.”

“Understood,” but instead of immediately setting out to complete her assigned task, she slithered over to the pseudowyrm. For the first time since their arrival, there was a fire in his eyes. “Creator, what did Shrike say to convince you?”

Zhu shrugged. “She made some good points. Consider me a believer from now on.”