March 12, 2019, 5:24 pm.

Roberts had plenty of steaks ready by the time we were done greeting the others, but Rufka and I were firmly informed that we needed to take a bath before we’d be allowed to partake. Which meant we were the last ones to eat. Thanks to my heroic level hug, Demo had to take a bath too, but he hadn’t been as distracted as we were.

Worth.

Rufka’s still dripping water everywhere when we emerge, having lost the waterwar and therefore denied drying magic, as per our terms of engagement. Settling in around the campfire, she keeps trying to press her wet fur up against me, but I hold her off by simply scooting to the side.

Even as Rufka and I play keep-a-dry, we catch up on what’s happened since the teleportation network went offline.

“You actually showed up at the perfect time,” Beth notes after we’ve finished swapping stories.

“Oh?” I mumble around a mouthful of steaming meat, Rufka’s head in my lap, serving as a table while she snuggles.

“Yeah. We found Demo’s ship today, but we don’t have the ‘oomph’ to get it out of the swamp ourselves.”

“Can’t you just, you know, get inside and fly it out?” I ask, feeding a bite to Rufka, who carefully chews so as not to disturb the plate.

Demo trills in what I’m pretty sure is his native tongue. I don’t know what it means, but he’s used it before. It’s a rather beautiful sound. When I told him it was beautiful, the first time I heard it, he explained it’s one of the greatest insults a Phothean can use. Which is why it can’t be translated. Despite his explanation, I still think it's pretty. “Sara’s engines aren’t functional. And something in the swamp's draining her shields. If we don’t get her out quick, she’s going to get gummed up bad.”

“How quick are we talking here?” I ask, wondering if we should be heading out right away.

“Well, since yeh’re here, I think-” Demo starts.

“I think it’ll be fine if we go in the morning,” Beth interrupts. “Demo said it’d be fine for another few days.”

“But wouldn’t it be better if we did it right away?” I ask.

“Aye. Much better. It’ll mean less stress on the shields,” Demo confirms, nodding enthusiastically, his multitude of tails bobbing in rhythm with his head.

Beth looks at me, then at Demo. She sits silently for a few seconds before sighing. “If you think it’s the right call, kid. There’s not much harm in it. But we’re going as a group. I don’t want us getting split up again so soon after getting back together.”

Demo lets out a small yip, pumping his hand in the air as the rest of us finish our dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re flying almost directly west over the swamp, on our mission to rescue the ship-in-distress. We fly right passed it before Tipan points out a gnarled tree ahead of us that’s in the next grid.

It takes several minutes of searching the swampy terrain before we find the ship. Despite the others clearing the vines from the surface of the swamp over an hour ago, they’ve already regrown, almost completely obscuring where Saratesa sank. But the tip of a dish protrudes from a mess of vines, marking its location.

Clearing the vines again only takes us a minute with our combined firepower. With the vines clear, I work with Tipan and Roberts to clear the area of water, revealing the ship below. It’s bigger than I expected, over twenty metres wide, and at least five times as long. Once we’ve discovered its boundaries, I decide there’s an easier way to secure it than by creating a massive platform. Instead, we just go around the outside, creating a wall to keep the water and vines away. Unfortunately, I have to reinforce the wall to make it sturdy enough to hold back the aggressive vines. Keeping the vines away ends up being even more challenging, requiring us to make the wall protrude five metres above the water line before they’re no longer able to maintain a proper grip.

Seriously, talk about an invasive species.

With the vines cleared away, we're finally able to take a good look at the ship. It's a surprisingly boxy design. And not nearly as smooth as I'd expected. Every other surface has a tube or antennae sticking off it. Several of which appear to be bent or outright snapped.

“Well, the Saratesa’s secure. Should we head back?” I ask, watching as Demo inspects the outside of his ship.

“What? Head back? Now?” Demo exclaims, spinning toward me, his eyes and jaw hanging open.

“Or we could stay,” I shrug. I would like to go back to Tipan’s quarters though.

Beth rubs her forehead, before asking, “Are you able to get inside Demo?”

Demo shakes his head, before turning back to the ship, nodding. “Yeah, I should be able to. Course it’ll be easier once it dries…”

We all stare at him as he cuts out, his tails rising to hide his face from our view.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I seem to have missed the last part?” Beth asks, leaning forward.

“I said, it’ll be easier if we come back in the morning. Are yeh happy?”

Beth folds her hands behind her head, her grin as wide as her face. “Now, why would you ask that?”

Demo doesn’t say anything further, but he does join us atop the wall.

But I’m confused about something. “Why can’t I just use magic to dry it out? Actually, now that I think about it, why wasn’t it dry in the first place? We moved all the water away.”

“Cause the shields are still interfering with magic. She’ll take care of the water inside the shields by morning, but if I shut them down now, it could damage something. Like I said. Better to wait,” Demo grumbles, snapping his toothpick.

Nodding as though I understand, we return to camp. Demo insists on staying with his ship, and Rose stays behind to keep him company. And to protect him if anything happens.

When we get back, I settle into conversation with Tipan while Rufka joins Roberts and Josh for a game of Astra's Stride.

“I really did want to thank you for the amazing house,” I say, pointing at my dwelling.

“Oh, it was nothing. I was inspired by you, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re always making every shelter we stay in unique, with its own flair. Sadly, mine are all the same.”

I stare at Tipan for a second before walking over to her house. Even in the entryway, I can see that she’s used a completely different set of murals. Clearly, I need to explain how impressive they are. Even as I’m pointing at the one in the centre, a picture with four K’tharn standing together, I pause. Because I recognize all four of the K’tharn in the picture. Tipan is obvious, as is her mother, who actually looks more like the third K’tharn, Ivicka. But it’s the fourth K’tharn, that made me pause. It’s the warrior who showed up in Burnesq a few days ago.

“Who’s that?” I ask. I’d almost forgotten Rose’s theory that it had been Tipan’s father who’d visited us.

Tipan fiddles with the book at her waist, causing the enchantment to glow slightly as she draws a deep breath. “That’s my father. And I know Ivicka was corrupted in the end, but she…”

Tipan stops as I pull her into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t forget that she was… Besides, even if she wasn’t, you can’t choose your family. Believe me. I know.”

Tipan nods, slouching slightly as she hugs me back.

“Sorry. I just know how it was with you and… I don’t know, I thought it would bring back bad memories.”

Looking at the mural again, I nod. "I definitely don’t have any happy memories where Ivicka’s concerned, but I never hated her. She was just a dangerous person. And from what we’ve learned, that wasn’t entirely her. So, what say you show me around? Maybe we can take a break together. I could help you relax a little.”

Tipan giggles, “Like you help Rufka relax?”

“Hey now,” I reply, elbowing her gently, “You know I’m a one-woman kind of gal.”

Tipan’s ears lay flat in embarrassment, “I know. I was just trying to make a joke.”

Realizing she thinks I’m serious, I pat her hand. “I know. I was kidding too.”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Tipan’s ears manage to go even flatter, matching the contour of her head, which is impressive.

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” I reassure her. “Why don’t you tell me about your father?”

“Oh. Uhm. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned the Stormguard before?”

“Not often. I think Rufka's mentioned them. Some sort of elite force in the Aetherium’s military, right?”

“Kind of? They’re a prestigious order. Founded separately from the Aetherium. They work for the good of all K’tharn.”

“And your father’s a Stormguard?” I ask, guessing where she’s going.

“Yes. But she’s not a regular Stormguard. She’s… well, she’s like Genitha. Independent. Powerful. When I was a child, she took Ivicka and I on an expedition to the Depths, to a K’mari enclave.”

“Uhh. K’mari?”

“Oh, sorry. They’re one of the M’tari Houses of the Deep. I think they’re focused on reinforcement magic? Strong Earth and Water affinities.”

“Wait, the Lords of the Deep have houses?” I ask pointing a thumb over my shoulder at the houses behind us. The word she used was definitely Vausian for house.

Tipan giggles in response, “Not like that Lex. Like a clan, I suppose. Though they’re not bound by family.”

“Oh, right. That kind of house,” I reply, taking my turn at blushing. English isn't the only language where words have more than one meaning.

“Yes. That kind of house. As I was saying, my father took us to a K’mari enclave. The K’mari are big on fighting. All sorts of rules around duelling, gladiator combat, mana-beast hunting. They have titles and honours for each category. They also normally have a separate ranking for non-K’mari.”

“Okay, big on fighting.”

“Yes. More than any other Lords of the Deep, they focus on combat. They’re the first to go to war. They’re horrible administrators though,” Tipan rolls her eyes at the last part. “They tried running one of the port cities once, only to literally give the city away to an ally after three months. All their representatives kept getting bored and wandering off for days at a time.”

“Hehehe. Guess you could say their attention swam away.”

Tipan levels her gaze on me, not one of her four eyes looking impressed.

“Not my best work,” I admit, “So, they’re bad administrators?”

“Yes. But that’s not important. What is important is my father took us there, to this place where most K’tharn are looked down upon. And she was treated with respect. More respect than if we’d been walking down the streets of Aethire.”

Tipan pauses, resting her chin on her staff while gazing up at the night sky. “I didn’t understand why at the time. I just thought they were nice umsquids.”

“Umsquids?”

“Yes. Umsquids. Ivicka kept talking about going to see the ‘dumb squids’, and I copied her. To be fair, I was young.”

“That didn’t get you in trouble?”

Tipan, looks away, but then sighs. “Not that I remember. But when I think back on it? It probably made problems for my father.”

“Anyway, father fought in a tournament. I didn’t get to watch the fights, but father brought home a prize. That was the first time Ivicka told me she was going to be like Talkith when she got older.”

“Talkith? Oh, you mean your dad?”

“Yeah. Ivicka has a different father, but Mother never told us who they were. That was the last trip we went on together. After mother found out Ivicka was planning to join the Stormguard to follow in father’s footsteps, she kicked her out. I later found out there was more to it, but that’s how it seemed at the time. Ivicka was super angry at me, saying it was my fault that she didn’t get to be a Stormguard. A year later she started working with Folthka.”

“She was right, in a way,” a new voice comments. Tipan and I both spin toward the source, finding the K’tharn from several mornings ago perched on the roof of Tipan’s house. “Your sister was forbidden from joining the Stormguard because your mother feared you’d follow in her steps. You followed her everywhere those days.”

“Father!” Tipan exclaims, bowing with both her left arms against her chest while holding her staff parallel to her body with her right.

“Tipan,” her father, Talkith responds, stepping from the rooftop to land in front of us, mirroring her bow, holding her swords in a similar position.

“I’d heard you wanted to see me?” Tipan doesn’t break her bow, but I notice her flicking her ears nervously.

Talkith rises from her bow, nodding once, at which point Tipan rises as well. Wait, should I have been bowing too?

Welp, too late now. Still, I remain quiet as Tipan’s father assesses her. At least, that’s what it feels like she’s doing. After several seconds, her father speaks, “You’ve been diligent. Not relying solely on the System. Good.”

“Thank you, father.”

“I have some unpleasant questions for you daughter. Perhaps I should ask them in private?”

I see Tipan’s ears twitch, and her lower eyes lock on me.

“Uh. I’ll stay or go. You just say the word Tipan,” I inform her, while glancing at Talkith.

Tipan nods, then realizing that I have no idea how to interpret that, she says, “Stay please. Father would you like to come inside? I have Talmaskan tea.”

At this, Talkith raises a single eyebrow, “Talmaskan? I was certain it was no longer available?”

“I uhh… I have a source. An Outlander.”

“Ah, of course. A rift-torn would have access to such treasures.”

Treasures? How come Tipan’s never offered us this tea before? In fact, I don’t think I remember her even mentioning it.

Tipan gestures down the narrow shaft leading to her dining room. They descend before me, Tipan and I flying while Talkith simply drops.

“I’m sorry for the mess. I would have cleaned had I known you were coming.” Even as Tipan apologizes, I stare at her immaculate dining room. There isn’t even a dirty dish. The only thing I could think she’s possibly referring to is that the chairs aren’t perfectly aligned with the table.

“It is fine. I did not give you warning of my arrival. Please, let us sit and perhaps you can prepare us a cup of Talmaskan tea?” I swear there’s a note of longing in Talkith’s voice.

“Of course, father. Right away,” Tipan almost trips over her staff, as she fiddles with a symbol on what I thought was a side counter. Setting a kettle on the surface, it quickly heats up. She built enchantments into the furniture? I really need to step up my temporary house building game.

We remain silent as Tipan pours her father a cup of tea, the liquid practically gliding into the cup. I note she does so without a hint of manipulation. That’s an impressive feat even with an Agility of a hundred. She hesitates for a second when she looks at me before pouring me a cup with the same fluid grace. She mouths ‘sorry’ as she leans over.

I take my tea with some confusion. I told her I was fine supporting her, drinking a cup of tea is the least I can do.

Tipan pours her own cup of tea, setting the kettle back on the counter instead of returning it to her inventory. That done she joins us at the table, sitting next to me, both of us facing her father.

“It’s been… seven years since I last had Talmaskan,” Talkith muses, holding the cup delicately in a single hand. “Ylethan gave me a single portion as a gift in exchange for… nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

Talkith lifts her cup toward Tipan.

Tipan raises her own cup to meet her father, waiting.

As their cups hover a millimeter apart, Talkith says, “May those who value peace...”

“Study war, that peace may prevail," Tipan answers, clinking gently against her father's cup.

At this, they both drink, Talkith’s face relaxing, a hint of a smile forming on her lips for the first time. I follow their example, lifting the cup to my lips. It has a pleasant aroma, a hint of something fruity.

I notice Tipan glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, so I give her a small smile to reassure her everything is fine, taking a sip.

And then the taste hits my tongue.

…

I should’ve gone with swamp water.