Chapter 2
Milage sat quietly as the man she now knew as John Wheeler talked about his land. Simultaneously, he also ate handfuls of a candy they called "Twisters." They were long, red ropes, made out of a certain sugar found on Nedtasaoric. Milage, blessed with her long lifespan, had visited the western continent before the humans appeared, nearly 450 years ago. She had just turned 13, and her father took her there to teach her more of weaving. She recalled the abundant grass plains surrounding the incredibly dense and inhospitable jungle near the center of the Continent. Back then it was theorized by Kilonian naturalists that a great lake was near the middle, nurturing the dark jungle. Some parts of her were actually excited to return.
"Heyo. Hey you!"
Startled, Milage instinctively summoned a shield, cutting a hole in the floor. Several alarms went off, and the aircraft pitched violently for several minutes. The two men in front appeared to struggle, but eventually regain control. Wheeler was not pleased.
"What the hell?" he yelled, " you just cut a fucking hole in our heli. Jesus fucking Christ."
"Sorry. I was startled." She said, nonchalantly casting a spell to reverse the damage. Or at least, she though it would be nonchalant. Rather, the metal she cut seemed to involve a lot of strength to use alchemy to summon. She began to strain, but alas summoned it.
"Yeah that's probably a little harder than copper." Wheeler said, slightly grinning.
"Not by much." She replied, although truthfully she had made a mental note to make more later.
"Alright. Gonna need you to look pretty and smile when we get here. Gotta show our people and your's that we aren't enemies anymore." Wheeler Said.
"Sure. That is entirely expected of someone in my calibre. Should we not be nearing the Jungle by now?" She asked, annoyed at his remark.
"The what?"
"The jungl-" she stopped talking as FoundCity came into view.
Hundreds of massive and tall black obelisks stretched a vibrant neon landscape. Blinking squares and glowing shapes littered the massive structures. Beneath them, what looked like thousands, no, millions of people killed to and from shops, booths, and stalls. Small vehicles, that she knew were cars, clogged up the streets, honking angrily at passerby. Even through the drone of the rotors she could hear clearly the bustle. It was almost as if the entire city was one living, breathing, organism.
"Some people do call it a Jungle." Wheeler said, peering out over the edge of the craft.
"Y'know, no matter how many times I get this view, never ceases to make my heart skip a little."
She didn't respond. The feeling was all too familiar. Above all the noise and commotion, she had also noted the air felt potent. It smelled like, well, the humans. Although anatomically they were quite similar to most races, their lifestyles could not be more different. How they endured the stench of their cities she did not know. This was her first time, and it was taking some effort.
The drone of the rotors pitched down as the craft slowly descended, heading towards a large open space, seemingly reserved for this purpose. Several squares marked with a symbol (H) were uniformly distributed among a long gray stretch of material she didn't recognize. Her craft and several others that joined her during the journey touched down on the squares, and now she understood the landing earlier wasn't very soft at all. The hard landing took her by surprise, and as she slammed into her seat, memories of only a few years ago began to flood back.
"My lady" a voice, quiet but stern, whispered. She didn't stir, her hands tightly wrapped around the staff.
"Lady Sania." They said, louder now.
"Milage!" They yelled, grabbing her shoulders. She looked up from her staff, and at her Squire's face. It was a mess, covered in an amalgamation of soot and rubble, seemingly held together by the dried blood. His typically pale skin was sickly grey, and his eyes were stained gold.
"Loni. Your eyes." She whimpered.
"Yeah. Yeah I'm good though. We need to get moving."
How embarrassing, she thought. Here she was, the most praised weaver, Pride of Kilon herself, cowering behind her rookie squire. How far had he pushed himself? She stood up, or attempted to. Before she could fall, Loni was able to slip an arm under her shoulder. Her staff fell to the ground, and left her hands stained with something.
Loni pulled her forward, as she stumbled behind, smearing his coat with more red streaks from her hands. Around them, cries of anguish echoed through the plains, bouncing between ruined buildings to the point she couldn't distinguish the origin of number of them. Small smoldering fire-
"Jesus Christ kid you've got a problem with spacing out."
She looked up, and Wheeler was now standing outside the craft. In fact, she was the only one left in it. The rotors were entirely still, now slightly drooping.
"It is well within my duties to contemplate my purpose here delegate." She remarked, slowly making her way out, careful not to catch her long robe on the sharp edges.
"Well your duties here should be pretty clear. We've been planning this for months, I'd assume, safely I hope, you'd do the same for this visit." He said. His tone had shifted. Perhaps he did not think she was taking the visit seriously.
"Of course, Mr. Wheeler. FoundCity was more... Overwhelming than I expected." She said, leaving out the fact she was never meant to be the negotiating party. In fact, she still had very little idea as to why her uncle had sent her here, but she knew better than to challenge his decisions, especially in front of guests.
"Hopefully the Executor Council will be somewhat more calm than the streets of Found, although I cannot make any promises Lady Sania." This time a lady spoke, having made her way to right of Wheeler. Hand extended, she was clearly expecting a handshake. She was short, but slim, and had a darker complexion than Wheeler. Hooded eyes, black hair, and a thin face made her contrast greatly with him. Yet again, the origins of these people were strange. How could the same race look so different, she had no clue. She returned the handshake, noting that the woman's hands were obviously suited to a more diplomatic lifestyle.
"My name is Ahmya, I will be your assigned guide and cultural advisor for your visit." She said.
"Well since you already know my name, I suppose you can tell me where we start."
Ahmya stuttered for a moment.
"Ma'am, er, Lady Sania, I was under the impression you would want somewhat of a tour of the city, perhaps. At least one of where you'll be staying for the next few weeks."
"Are we not here to discuss negotiations? Has the past few years simply eased itself out of your memory?" Ahmya responded, becoming annoyed with the cordiality of this meeting.
"Yes, I mean, um, of course Lady Sania. However, um.."
Out of the corner of her vision, she could see Wheeler grinning, finding their exchange amusing.
"What is so amusing about this Mr. Wheeler? Is there some practical joke I haven't been made aware of? Have we forgot this is a meeting to discuss the end to an incredibly violent conflict?" Now she had taken an offensive posture in the conversation, holding her staff as if it was a symbol of her attitude.
"Oh, oh of course not Lady Sania." He said, maintaining the grin. " It's always funny to see someone's first reaction to beautiful Soaran bureaucracy. What she's trying to tell you is the Senate is so buried in bullshit you'd need a couple of those haulers we flew on to see half of the pile." He was now working on the last of his candy, making sure to peel each rope individually.
"That is hardly a way for you to conduct your-" Ahmya began, before Wheeler interrupted her once more.
"Listen I know a pencil biter when I see one and I only see one here right now."
"The expression is pencil pusher Wheeler." She said, narrowing her eyes.
"Same shit, just tell her she's stuck here till they get President Charity drive to finish knitting socks and actually sign some legislature."
Ahmya sighed, and turned back towards Milage.
"Well, Lady Sania, he is right. President Grant " she said, throwing knife eyes one more time at Wheeler, " Is preoccupied in the Western Provinces. But he will meet you here, as soon as he is finished. In the meantime, it would benefit you to learn of our customs, and us of yours, if this is truly to be lasting peace."
Ahmya turned around, looking at the rotor craft. Not like she could figure out how to work one, and she really didn't feel like weaving up a grade 2 teleportation sphere, so here she was.
"So be it. However, I would like the rest of the afternoon to myself, if that is doable."
"Ah but I did make reserv.." Ahmya began, but stopped herself. "That is fine, let me lead you to your quarters. This way, Lady Sania."
Ahmya walked over to the vehicle near the square they had landed, that Wheeler had apparently already become comfortable with, and motioned for her to get in the open door.
"After you ma'am."
Unsure of how to navigate her robe in such a vehicle, she unfastened and rolled it up into her waist bag, entering the vehicle. Now adorned by her traditional court garments, a pants and long sleeves shirt matching set embroidered with yellow, purple, and red, the thought came that these were the only clothes she had for this trip. She took her seat next to Wheeler, determined to solve that problem tomorrow.
"Make even a single pass at me with anything but professional courtesy and your next candy rope will be a snake." She said, grasping that he was somewhat less than professional.
"Scared I'm gonna make fun of your circus clothes? Just wait till you see the Councilors." He said, as Ahmya shut the door.
Unsure if he was insulting her, the Councilors, or both, she let it slide and instead morphed it into a harmless earthworm.
Startled, he yelped and dropped it into the floor of the vehicle.
"What in the fuck? Holy shit is that a fucking worm."
"Wheeler. Please don't let this turn into the Glazzin situation." Ahmya said from the front right seat of the vehicle, now ready.
He grinned, whatever she was referring to was apparently good memories for him.
"Ah, don't worry, see now we're even after the whole cut a piece out of my hauler deal."
"What?" Ahmya asked. Her only answer was another knowing grin from Wheeler. Milage chose not to add to the discussion, as the driver made their way towards the wide building in front of them, she could only hope so called President Charity Drive would get here sooner than later.