The Odin ahead of were speechless.
Well, specifically Rashant was. The poor translator just stared at gobsmacked. Then there was so croaking from Septimus, likely asking what the delay was. The entire setup was a little comical if I stopped to think about it.
Three birds - which I’d been convinced for half my life didn’t exist, and who were equally convinced I didn’t exist - were sitting on a perch with a small hand-sized screen slate balancing on the side with a fourth bird through the screen.
The general of the Odin, or at least so kind of authority figure that organized things.
He certainly looked the part. A few white feathers, quite a lot of silken looking threads of multiple colors all interwoven into the wings, and what looked to be a silly looking black and gold mask on the bird’s head that fit both eyes and part of his beak. Rounding out the look was long needle-like spikes going upwards affixed on his tail making it look like there was a small stylized sun behind him.
Rashant looked far more down to earth like Kres did, with a flak vest of so kind that held pockets, and other hooks for gear to attach, though none of the gear Kres himself had carried. And the two escorts next to him looked more like soldiers with so kind of tal rod strapped on their wingtips, along with long twin feathers at their tails. Which were probably costic of so kind given the vibrant red.
Like the stoic soldiers to the side, Septimus himself also didn’t make any open movents when he finally heard the news.
“Explain.” Septimus asked, and oddly enough, I had a feeling the poor translator was absolutely appalled at having to take this kind of tone. The little crow looked genuinely terrified to be perched where it was.
“Its na is Bob. And while I was traveling through the deadlands, I found a way to speak to it.” I said, hand tapping my heart absentmindedly, realizing the birds probably wouldn’t understand that surface dweller lingo.
“Bob?” Rashant asked, not yet translating back to Septimus. “Apologies, esteed human, I rely ask to be certain my translation is correct.”
“It doesn’t have a na for itself, so it asked to na it. Human humor you could say. Bob doesn’t really have the sa sense of humor, but it appreciates short nas.”
The bird’s beak locked on , then turned to the tiny portable screen where the Odin general waited. It almost seed like the translator was psyching himself up before he delivered the lines back.
“And you claim this Bob could be interested in a cease-fire?” Septimus asked, Bob’s na being a non-issue to the general.
“I do.” Now that I’d officially put myself as indispensable to the Odin, it was ti to start being a little bit Winterscar. “I can explain more, however, I’d like so support in exchange.”
“Supporting you ans opposing your shadow. A dangerous idea for the Odin at large.”
Ah yes, the long shadow I cast behind . That’s the real rub to all this: Sohow, the machines had managed to get a ssage to the Odin early, and now the Víkingr knew machines could be talked to, had goals, and were organized, which put them on the map as a faction. A very dangerous faction.
“I do believe what I have to offer is the better option.” And I ant that.
My logic was simple: Given the Icon of Stars had a golden age AI hiding inside, there was a non-zero chance the machines would eventually decide to kick a fuss and the Odin knew it deep down. So I was willing to bet the Odin had so preparations for handling machines.
Bob however… not much could be done about Bob. The Odin had been at war with Bob for years and they all knew they were going to lose, even with Bob itself trying not to win.
Septimus said nothing, but he could certainly read between the lines. This wasn’t sothing to be said out loud over comms. “Very well,” He said, “Assuming that assumption is correct, what is it you want?”
Assumption huh. A very political way of agreeing without agreeing.
I was more short and to the point: “Food, water, and a few power cells before I assist further.”
The translator flinched at the ntion of power cells, and then the two escorts equally flinched when the ssage was delivered. Only Septimus remained stoic about it.
“Power cells are not easy to source.” He began. “The Odin have already claid all spare power cells that could be found in the wilds decades ago. The ones we have are already being used to power the Icon and other critical infrastructure.”
“You did have a few extras to hand my way for free not even half an hour ago.”
I knew that wasn’t a fair argunt from the mont I said it, but they did try to kill , and I was petty enough to hold a slight grudge about that.
“Security against the infestation is paramount. And that carried over to any machine that might carry the infestation unknowingly into our lands.” Septimus said.
“What a coincidence, if you’re looking for security from Bob, I think I’m worth the price.”
Septimus said nothing, staring through the screen as if his glower could get through to . “I see my earlier orders to deploy the full barrier against you is still on your mind. You are placing the entire Odin in peril for only my actions. Either we assist you, and incur the wrath of the machines, or we assist the machines and lose any hope against the infestation.”
“Appeals to emotion would have worked, if you hadn’t tried bombing earlier.” I said.
The Odin general stayed quiet for a mont, probably internally debating what would be the best way to thread this particular junction. “A compromise then. We can give you the coordinates to known mite power fountains that can replenish the power cells you might already have. Or take so of your spent cells and refill them ourselves.”
“That seems like a step in the right direction. And my shadow? How are you going to handle the machines?”
“I cannot confirm or deny what negotiations, and offers, must happen to maintain neutrality with the machines.” Septimus said. Which ant he was still going to try to thread the needle for neutrality, and that probably ant acting as their spy.
“I’ll leave that to you. Just know that if I die, so too does any chance of talking with Bob about a ceasefire.”
“I am well aware of this.” Septimus said. “We will first have to verify you can speak to the infestation. This ‘Bob’... why does it wish for a ceasefire?”
Fishing for information now. I see your plan, little bird-general. “Like I said before, Bob’s not dumb.” I took a breath and contemplated how much of a Winterscar I wanted to be.
Although the Odin’s earlier argunt about dooming an entire species for their military just doing their jobs, especially with machines breathing down their feathers, still stuck with .
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I was abusing Bob here to get a little extra hand in, against a terrified group of birds just trying to navigate how to not get squashed between machines and humans. And it didn’t make feel great about myself.
“Level with here, Septimus. Is it enough for the machines to simply know where I am and what I’m doing? Or are they demanding more from your people?”
Septimus seed to understand the offer of peace I was giving him. “We cannot know for certain, however giving them information on your whereabouts and keeping friendly contact with you otherwise would likely be enough for the machines to look over our involvent with you, in my estimation. Asking us to kill you again after you’ve already survived our best attempts would be unreasonable, and a waste of resources.”
That revealed a number of things to without directly ntioning it. He had a high opinion of their intelligence so far, so he probably hadn’t t most Feathers. Who absolutely wouldn’t care for nuances like ‘strategy’ or ‘reasonable use of resources.’
To’Avalis was very pragmatic. Back in the temple, the very first contact with that bastard hadn’t been one of hostility. Instead, he’d imdiately offered terms for a quick resolution, and they weren’t empty terms either. They were quite compelling even. I had no doubts if To’Avalis got in contact with the Odin, he probably started with that.
On the other hand, To’Aacar would execute these birds for having the audacity to tell him they failed to kill .
“What else can you tell about their contact with you?” My turn to fish for information. I showed you my cards, show yours.
“We have not yet had further contact with the machines. They ordered that you be killed, and failing that, to inform you that your companion is held hostage at their location. I can argue that with you past the barrier line, we have little chance of actually eliminating you at all now. Cooperation would give more options in the future.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” I sighed. I’m dozens of stratas away from ho, and sohow this reminded completely of my old ho. The Odin would be telling To’Avalis backstabbing has a higher chance of getting their goals complete. Although Winterscars were far more petty. Septimus at least seed to only do what he had to, out of pragmatic reasons.
“Did the machine give you their na?” I asked, mostly to confirm it was To’Avalis I was dealing with here.
“They did not. They had little questions for us, and spoke in terse words. Overall contact was under a minute.”
Wait. Under a minute?
That… doesn’t sound like To’Avalis. He was a scher, and good sches couldn’t be hashed out in under a minute. Either the Odin were lying to about the full details or… the Feather that contacted them was To’Orda.
Then was To’Avalis keeping his hands clean of this? Or waiting to see my response before butting in?
In the end, I was a warlock, a knight, and had enough weapons and skills to keep myself well alive even if the entire Odin were forced to turn against . I was in a good position, they weren’t.
Deep down I knew what I needed to do here. I can’t cosign an entire race to slow death by Bob just to stack the deck a little bit more on my end. “All right. Fine. So here’s the situation: Bob is well aware that if it continues eating everything, it’ll end up starving to death once there’s nothing left to eat. It has no real reason to target the Odin over any other food source, I’d guess you all taste the sa. Fighting your species has next to no benefits to Bob if you’re not actively trying to end its existence. So there’s so room for negotiation and figuring out how to cohabitate. But there are so biological issues holding it back: It can’t control so of it’s natural functions, like floating spores.”
Rashant and his escorts didn’t seem to understand just how important that information was, they looked more curious about it and in awe that the infestation was intelligent at all.
But the silence from Septimus was all the hint I needed to know that he’d recognized the action for what it was. In that one small breath of information, I’d just solved everything for the Odin when it ca to Bob.
Even if I died right now - the knowledge that Bob wasn’t hostile, could be talked to, what its actual intentions were, and why it was still encroaching forward - all that would be enough to work around. The Odin might not be able to talk to Bob, but there were other ways of communicating. Large scale actions could be done, and Bob wasn’t dumb. It would see the opportunity given and go with it.
It would certainly be easier with alive to speak to it, but my existence was no longer absolutely necessary.
Finally, the Víkingr spoke. “We had noticed the drop in hostility and aggression against the Odin, and how it had spread out to unclaid lands above our own territories. Those are tactical maneuvers that only an intelligent force could respond with. Our best theory as to the reduced aggression had been an internal civil war. Your news is far more welco, and actionable.”
What was he angling for now with that little snippet of info? “Interesting theory. Why a civil war?”
“It was possible the infestation mutated different strains, and so could no longer be compatible with each other. We cannot be certain the entire infestation is one being, multiple beings, or an entire civilization within itself.”
Ah. I see. He was going through the Odin’s prior theories to get details confird or discarded. Was Bob just Bob, or did they have to deal with so governing system? That answer would change how they attempted to communicate.
These were all giant surprises to the Odin gathered before , even without the subtext. The translator was constantly fighting his own stunned thoughts, while the other two stoic guards on the perch next to him were equally flipping their beaks from the screen to , with each word we’d say.
I gave the Odin a shrug. “As far as I understand from Bob, it is one singular entity, and when it gets cut off from different zones, those revert to their feral uncontrolled states. Until it physically rejoins the swarm.”
That would be the last piece of information the Odin needed to know how Bob functions and how to make peace with the infestation. They would have figured that part out themselves over ti, but having the theory proved imdiately was a shortcut.
Septimus seed pleased, or at least as pleased as a bird could look. “Intelligent, aware of its impact on the ecology, and claims to have no reason to target the Odin over other uncontested lands. This was as perfect of a hand as the Odin could have hoped for.”
“And?” I asked.
“And if you are capable of being a translator for us, we would pay dearly for such service. I will confer with my colleagues on what we can do, and negotiate with all sides. For now, I will ask if you could stay with the deadlands outpost. I will be flying myself to speak in person.”
In person? Good sign there. Hard to be spied on when what’s being said isn’t over comms channels. Which ant he was planning on cutting so direct deals with that he couldn’t say over comms.
There was so more discussion between the Víkingr and his translator, before the screenwinked out, and the translator turned to . “Víkingr Septimus has given the order to accommodate you in any way you wish, food and water wise. Protection from the machines has been given as well.”
No ntion of power cells.
I gave the translator a deep smile, a sha the helt got in the way of it. “You don’t mind if I keep all my weapons and gear passing through, right?”
The translator looked at . Then back at the black screen. Then croaked what was probably a swear word of so kind if I had a guess, before finally turning back to . “I would assu not? One mont, I must contact my superiors about this.” The bird gave a panicked look around him, and even with the species difference I could tell when a Logi was being interrogated about things above their pay grade. The screen turned back on and a different colored Odin answered back. This one had outright red feathers all decorating the head, though it looked painted.
Whatever was being said seed to give the translator so breath back in his frantic little hops.
“Hersir Yill has ordered that you carry all gear and items you wish, there will be no security asures imposed. He has received confirmation from Septimus that it is up to his discretion now, as this is his outpost.”
The gates behind the Odin groaned and began to open up, being pulled by so electric motors in the back. The three Odin took flight from their little perch, one grabbing the tiny slate screen and flying off after the others, leaving the perch stuck in the ground right in front of .
“Well, that went pretty well, all things considered.” I said to myself, slapping the dust from my hands.
“Get your head back in the ga.” Cathida sighed, “You’re not safe here. These birds are working for the enemy.”
“A problem that can be solved by my tried and true thods.” I patted my trusty equipnt after slapping the ash off my cloak, happy everything was still functioning even after the encounter with To’Orda’s weasel transportation service. “At least this Septimus had the decency to warn . The ‘I will always do what is best for the Odin over any other feelings I may have’ is the most polite heads-up I’d seen so far about upcoming backstabbing. In Winterscar standards, it’s outright insulting.”
“I’m almost hesitant to ask, but how in the gold gates above would that be an insult?”
“You’re basically telling the other that you think their threat to your political power is so insignificant, you don’t even need to hide your plans from them.” Last bit of cleaning was to brush the ash from my legplates and then I started walking up to the tal walls beyond.
“I see. Your family has enough squireshit to last a couple lives.”
“Least it’s trained on how to navigate my way around alien intelligent birds, just as they intended all this ti.”
With one last step across the ash and I was finally back within civilization.
I'm going to have to navigate this one carefully, the Feathers after are going to pull so convoluted sche or another with the Odin as their shiv in the night.
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