SemiGod, Only Man

by Tall-Gothic-Guy

There was once a Feranmut before the Khaganquest, the God of Conquest and Wishes. And the Chimera ate him. Now the Chimera roams Terra, now a Semigod and loving it, granting wishes, trading miracles, and conquering anything he wanted for himself. Then he dedicated these gifts to Kazdel, helping the Sarkaz prosper, and courting the Dressmaker named Theresa. Then the War came.

4. Chapter 4

A new smile tugged at Alisa's lips as she watched the bizarre spectacle unfold once more. It used to be so comical than intimidating, the sight of children performing a ritual with a language that fit drunkards more. Now, she saw it through their eyes, a heartfelt performance filled with the unadulterated belief that their actions held power. It was as if with each movement, a blessing would magically materialize.

Oleg and Daniil, the unquestioned leaders of the kids for being the oldest and the toughest, respectively, stood out naturally as the leads and conductors. Flanked by the other children, they circled a crackling bonfire, their individual weapons symbolically sheathed for show than purpose as misplaced authenticity, they chanted a Sarkaz war chant in unison, a harsh, guttural dialect belted out of sneering teeth. Their arms swung in a wild, primal dance, slapping forearms and pounding thighs in a rhythm that seemed to come from a deeper place than choreography. It was raw, chaotic, and strangely mesmerizing.

While unsettling coming from a group of children, she couldn't help but admire their dedication. They belted out the chant with a dedication that put professional choirs to shame, and it's amazing that they haven't choked once while violating their vocal cords like this.

It's impressive. Not only did the children maintain a strange sense of order amidst the frantic motions, but their voices, though rough and growling, held a power that's actually invoked than pretended. It was almost disconcerting to see such ferocity emanating from these kids, yet a small grin tugged at her lips as she watched them channel their fighting spirits.

Their faces, contorted in fierce concentration, were a riot of emotions. They were trying so hard to appear menacing, so serious and intimidating with all the furrowed lines and bared teeth that they ended up looking adorable. They were just kids, after all, still too precious to be called real warriors.

The most adorable warrior, however, was none other than Za'kala, undeniably the star of the show. Armed with a long stick in her belt to compensate her lack of a real weapon, positioned between her favorite brothers, she mimicked their movements with as much enthusiasm and zeal her little body could muster. Her limited vocabulary had blossomed slightly over the passing year, punctuated by the occasional gurgling laugh. Yet, to Alisa's surprise, the little Buster outshone even her brothers with her attempt at the guttural chant.

Four years old, and she had memorized the entire thing – an accomplishment made all the more impressive and prodigious considering how it lasted 12 minutes and the sheer number of syllables, most of which lacked repetition. As a Wendigo, her voice, though limited, possessed a hauntingly beautiful quality that resonated with a power that's likely inherent.

Another part Za'kala's Wendigo heritage made itself known. Her red eyes, a trait unique to her kind, glowed faintly, an anomaly none of the other children seemed to notice.

Alisa finally believed Daniil and Oleg: according to them, the chant was an archaic war song, meant to empower the bodies and spirits of Sarkaz warriors but now too outdated for modern use.

Instead, it was adapted by Jacob for a different kind of battle. Intended for hardened adults, rituals like this are too much for small bodies to endure for long, especially when they're non-Sarkaz. It did, however, have a happy side effect. Growling and barking while flailing limbs for 12 minutes can be extremely taxing for kids. This usually ends with a deep and peaceful sleep, which is a blessing considering the nightmares some of the little ones have.

It's quite genius, Alisa can admit that. It's a much healthier way for the kids to release their anxieties and their fears without resorting to any more combat assessments. Not all kids are good at fighting like Daniil, had big brothers like Oleg, and adorable little princesses to coddle and hold them down like Za'kala. It allowed them to purge the remnants of their traumas through movement and voice. It might have seemed silly on the surface, but Alisa couldn't deny its effectiveness. The peaceful faces they had in their sleep is worth it.

Alisa's gaze drifted outside the circle of chanting children, settling on a menagerie of furry things that held vigil over the little ones. Three houndbeasts, a group of black, grey, and the occasional fiery red, sat on their haunches, eyes focused on the bonfire. Nine manglers, ranging from the size of burly men to colossal beasts that dwarfed even the most muscular Shieldguard, stood upright or lounged with an air of patient vigilance. Two big felinid forms, a deep black fangbeast in the shadows and a snowy fangbeast against the dark, stalked silently around the perimeter.

They were not eyeing the kids as food, they were making sure none of them somehow accidently jumped into the bonfire. It nearly happened last time.

Once upon a time, Alisa's understanding of animals was limited to a brutal simplicity – hunger prompted hunting, exhaustion led to slumber, and danger triggered immediate aggression. Their actions were a reflection of primal need, devoid of the complexities that defined human existence. They didn't yearn for companionship, for stories whispered under starlight, or for the comfort of a shared meal. They simply….were. Their actions were a product of instinct, not invention. They wouldn't stumble upon the concept of seasoning.

Having learned from Buldrokkas'tee, that he discovered Jacob's hand in sending these creatures here the previous year, a time she thought the camp was under siege, had shattered her perception of reality. The world had become a confusing labyrinth. Was her understanding flawed, or was reality itself a shifting, unknowable entity and she's just realizing it now? The answer remained elusive.

One thing was certain – some people just could do whatever they wanted and twisted how things usually go. One of those 'some people' is Jacob.

And because these animals came from Jacob, she knew that they were not ordinary. They are oh-so-intelligent. These creatures understood words, actively helped around the community without any sort of command and caught on to their routines very quickly. They possessed an intelligence that defied conventional explanation. They understood human language, anticipated needs, and actively contributed to the community's well-being. They weren't simply responding to reward or punishment; they seemed to possess a genuine sense of purpose, a desire to help.

And their actions proved it all too clearly.

Just last week, she'd witnessed the most colossal stagbeast she'd ever seen carrying a mountain of firewood back to camp on its magnificent rack, with Oleg by its side. The day before, a massive brown mangler lumbered in with a log on its shoulder, ready for chopping. And months ago, this very pack had raided their second gulag, escorting the liberated prisoners back to their haven a week later. Amazingly, not a single one perished along the way, according to the Shieldguard tracker who traced their path.

But the most remarkable feat was the stable food supply, a small miracle considering their growing numbers. These creatures, adhering to a schedule understood only by themselves, hunted, foraged, and returned with bountiful offerings. The bears somehow packed these spoils into stolen or looted sacks and bags, leaving them for the community's enjoyment. They refused scraps, batting them away with a dismissive paw, sometimes too aggressively.

Beyond providing sustenance, they brought other gifts. Their companionship soothed the souls of adults suffering from PTSD. A silent understanding and a calming presence as well as a nonjudgmental and selfless shoulder full of fur does wonders for broken hearts. They also helped the children laugh and have more friends to play with, which is always a good thing. There's never enough friends and fun. The animals even aided in arduous labor, likewise proving invaluable during Buldrokkas'tee's raids, their ferocity and natural abilities complementing the Shieldguards' tactics, according to Corporal Matteo.

Alisa shifted on the log, her gaze drawn to the imposing black wolf sitting beside her. It was the same creature that found her and Za'kala on the tree last year, the one that had brought back her Jimmy's bracelet. A wry smile touched her lips as she reached out, scratching the fur behind its ears.

"Don't try to outshine Daniil completely, big guy," She teased. "I don't think he's gonna like you replacing him as Za'kala's favorite."

Not to her surprise, the wolf offered no response, not even a tail wag for her scratchings. It kept its gaze in its vigil over the the little Wendigo. Silence, it seemed, was its preferred method of communication no matter who was talking to him compared to their first meetings. Not even Buldrokkas'tee can cow its compliance.

"Still the strong and silent type, are we?" She lightly pinched one of its ears, enjoying the warm fluff on it, "Do I have to stick a knife in you before you give me a decent response?"

Despite the lighthearted threat, the wolf held its ground still. It was well aware of Alisa's unusual abilities, the power gifted to her by Jacob. Even if she could tear it limb from limb, it would be whole again within 5 minutes. These animals, including this fellow, carried something mystical about them, and each one defied mortal understanding.

Daniil's deliberate stab to the wolf's heart last year, a justified act of agression when it came too close, had proven ineffective. It remained standing as he pulled his sword out of it, the wound quickly closing. It had simply lowered Jimmy's bracelet in its mouth, a gesture of peace.

The giant cave mangler that attacked Buldrokkas'tee a year ago is much the same. For one, it is completely impervious to punishment, to the point that not even the Wendigo's halberd could cut through its hide or break its bones, even if the big thing itself was thrown around. To this day since its arrival, according to Corporal Matteo as he heard from the scouts' reports, it had been patrolling their camp in a 15 kilometer radius, keeping Ursus patrols or assault squads from getting a hint of their secret haven.

The giant stagbeast earlier can sometimes make its antlers glow blue, a pale but very noticeable illumination during the night. Nobody knows what it does but it makes a captivating sight, and the children love to stare at it. They started thinking its a guardian spirit of the Tundra, with its graceful stride and mighty presence that made the air go peacefully quiet every time it's nearby. The pretentious reverence and offerings the kids give to it are just hilarious.

Most amusingly, there was the black fangbeast. Unlike its kin, its power wasn't subtle – searing beams of pure Arts energy fired from its eyes, rivalling the destructive force of a Caster's Arts. Needless to say, it was a favorite amongst the boys, a valuable weapon in Buldrokkas'tee's operations. It also had a bit of showboating personality, never refusing a chance to show off its accuracy to the youngsters.

The rest of the menagerie, though lacking overt magical abilities, served just as valuable a purpose as fantastic cuddle buddies, with the bears being great experts on the matter. The rest that lack the dexterity and range for hugs help around with labor and hunting for obscure resources, lightening the load and contributing no small amount of convenience.

But besides all that, Alisa had a suspicion that these magnificent creatures held a larger purpose. In just one year, everybody would finally escape the unforgiving grip of the Tundra and journey to Jacob's promised paradise. No more daily struggles for survival, no more constant vigilance against Ursus patrols – a future bathed in sunlight awaited them, hopefully with lots of bread and honey coffee.

However, the animals wouldn't be making the journey with them. Definitely not. She couldn't imagine her daughter's savior sending these extraordinary beings solely for their emotional comfort and convenience. It's far too luxurious for a man who deliberately trapped them here for 5 years because his slave had the audacity to make demands just to save her life.

No, their presence here is definitely part of a larger plan of his, a plan that would unfold once their time in the Tundra was over. Whatever it was, Alisa trusted Jacob without question, and she's fine being ignorant about it. Knowing more wouldn't change their immediate reality. The children were content, the camp held onto hope, and a brighter future loomed on the horizon.

A heavy footfall announced a new arrival behind her. The wolf, sensing the approaching presence, rose from its vigil and joined the other creatures forming a protective ring around the children, the latter's chanting reaching the last dozen familiar stanzas remaining. Moments later, Buldrokkas'tee emerged, the warmth emanating from his large form offering a welcome comfort against the cool night air. He settled onto the log, taking the wolf's vacant spot.

"Good evening, Miss Alisa," He greeted softly.

"Good evening, Buldrokkas'tee," She replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "Can't resist a good ol' chanting from our little imps like me?"

He hummed a reply. "In a way, yes. Though I notice some droopiness in your eyes. Will you be okay?"

"Just making sure Daniil comes with me," She replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Remember his insomnia last year? Now, he practically needs either Za'kala or me glued to him at night. He isn't out like a light unless he gets a cuddle and a goodnight kiss."

Buldrokkas'tee nodded his head in approval, shaking off a bit of snow off his antlers, "His love for the two of you comes through clearly now."

Alisa smirked, "My little Buster is so absolutely in love with her big brother like you wouldn't believe. I'm actually surprised she hasn't announced plans to marry him when she grows up yet. Every night she snuggles him close, determined to be the big spoon all night long. She peppers his forehead with kisses and even hums him songs when he squirms even slightly because she thought he had nightmares! It's so adorable I swear I had 14 heart attacks under a single week! Four years old and already playing house, acting all grown up like a big girl!"

Alisa practically squirmed with delight, enduring another episode of cute-induced cardiac arrest, but she held down her excitement with a practiced sigh, "Thank goodness for that though, honestly. Those bear hugs of his are…really Ursus-like, and the kid's a Feline. I think his strength keeps growing every year, and I swear he'll crush me in his sleep someday if Za'kala wasn't there to steal some of his attentions. And I thought my papa gave the biggest hugs that crushing when I was small."

Buldrokkas'tee hummed, amusement clear in his voice. "Has Jacob's blessings taken its leave from you? Surely my Master's blessing isn't so flimsy that it would leave you at the mercy of your dear son's enthusiastic affections."

Alisa whipped her head so quickly towards him it should've snapped her neck. "It shouldn't, yes! I'm supposed to have a Wendigo's strength and endurance to survive a damn mountain! But not the ability to breathe after ten minutes of one of his ministrations, apparently! And don't even get me started on Za'kala! She's a full-fledged Wendigo, she can cuddle with him all night without a care in the world but what about me!? I'd be gasping if he held me for more than 15 minutes when he's really clingy! What am I missing here!? Did Jacob forget to give me the good Wendigo parts? Is there some secret Wendigo stamina I haven't been informed about!? Is my Wendigo side taking a vacation or something and went to the South!?"

Buldrokkas'tee released a low, rumbling hum. "Look upon the bright side," He offered, his voice warm underneath the depths of his helm. "Your efforts to grant Daniil peace of mind have yielded remarkable results. He's become brighter, more talkative. His tendency towards laconism has lessened considerably."

Alisa feigned shock, raising an eyebrow. "Buldrokkas'tee? Advocating for optimism? Never! Not even in my darkest nightmares! Did I fall asleep and wake up in a parallel universe!?"

He turned to her in a twitch, a hint of exasperation peeking through the red lenses. "What sort of person do you think I am, miss Alisa?"

"Broody? Stubborn? A man of few words, perhaps even fewer pleasantries? Distant? So pragmatic that sometimes I appear more emotionally intelligent by comparison?"

Buldrokkas'tee let out a huff. "Are you still clinging to those outdated impressions? I assure you, I've strived to improve, for your sake and Za'kala's."

Alisa laughed, punching his arm. The impact sounded like a boulder meeting a mountain. The mountain quivered and the boulder felt neither pain nor regret, the ground underneath the log trembling from the strike, making the trees nearby shake off a few clumps of snow from their branches.

"Just messing with you, big guy," She chuckled, wiping her eyes and rubbing her red knuckles to wipe off the dirt. "It's just...unusual to hear you talk like that. It's hard not to focus on it...not that it's a bad thing. I like it."

Shifting the topic back, she continued, "Yeah, you're right, Daniil has definitely blossomed. He's so much more comfortable talking to people now. A real people-person. Do you think it's because of his playdates with Za'kala? Or maybe because he's been working so hard helping every new arrival adjust to our life here? Teaching them the ropes? Showing them all the things we've learned over the years to stay alive out here?"

Buldrokkas'tee offered a noncommittal shrug, his massive shoulders barely moving. "Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. Does it truly matter?"

Alisa laughed, a genuine sound full of relief. "No, I suppose not. It's just…those rituals they lead with Oleg – they're hilarious! I can't believe they actually got all the kids invested in it and even memorized the whole thing! Za'kala, I can understand since she's always with Daniil and Oleg, but every kid's on it!"

Curious, the Wendigo asked, "Do you understand what they're saying?"

Alisa snorted, feigning a submissive bow. "HA! Me? Understand the sacred words of our tiny overlords? Absolutely not! We mere adults wouldn't dare trespass on such sacred knowledge! Let alone understand it! Why, attempting to do so would surely result in some divine retribution and my immediate erasure from the Earth!" She winked at him, a playful challenge in her eyes. "But you, you're a Sarkaz, aren't you? Care to enlighten an ignorant infidel in your ways?"

A hint of a smile played beneath Buldrokkas'tee's helm. "Infidel? Hardly, for you aren't Sarkaz. But ignorant, perhaps a touch. And explaining something like this is hardly a burden."

"Excellent!" Alisa chirped, her grin widening. With practiced ease, she looped her arm around his massive forearm, pulling herself close to the emanating warmth underneath his power armor and bumping her shoulder playfully against his side. "Alright then, enlighten me, Oh Wise One."

His voice rumbled softly as he began, low but still heard over the children's roars and chants. "It's a rather old dialect, either long-unused or spoken by very few of my people, but I can still decipher the nuances..."

Alisa listened intently as Buldrokkas'tee delved deeper, translating specific verses that told of the whole intent behind the 12 minute-long ritual.

Just as he finished, Oleg and Daniil's voices roared out the final stanzas, Za'kala mimicking their booming pronouncements with her best raspy shrieks. Reaching the climax of the ritual, the last embers of exhaustion and the need for sleep battled against the surge of adrenaline in the children thanks to the Mighty Patriot's presence as a spectator. With one final, coordinated blow-out, they channeled their remaining energy into the final verses, intending to show just how they can be warriors in their age.

Chests were thumped rhythmically, forearms slapped with resounding thwacks, and thighs slammed with surprising force. Their youthful voices, now tinged with fatigue, filled the air, desperate to reach the end. As the culmination of the ritual neared, a faint rippling in the air emanated from the children's bodies, a sudden rise of their body heat producing steam in the cool night air.

As if responding to the raw power unleashed by the chant, the menagerie that surrounded them joined the chorus. Houndbeasts howled in concert, manglers slammed their massive paws against the ground with thunderous roars, and the big felinids let out guttural growls, batting savagely at the snow. The air crackled with primal energy – the desire for battle, friendly competition, and the thrill of victory. The children, emboldened by this echo of ancient power, chanted with renewed vigor.

The translation Alisa received from Buldrokkas'tee painted a clear picture of what's happening. The children are invoking the actual physical effects of the ritual itself, and the next canto are just as comprehensible.

"Spirits of old, grant us strength! (Heed!)

Ancestors of our line, bless our might! (Heed!)

Warriors of our blood, join me in chorus! (Heed us, kin!)

Motherland, heed our voices! (HEED!)"

And finally, in the last refrain, the children broke away from the chorus, invoking specific virtues through six ancient Sarkaz pillars. These pillars, according to Buldrokkas'tee, represented six core tenets: Wisdom, Strength, Patience, Intelligence, Charisma, and Health. Each child could choose to focus on all six, just a few, or even just one, depending on their individual needs.

Palms pressed against their hearts signified a desire for wisdom. Pounding fists on chests represented strength. Raised hands in supplication invoked patience. Fingers touching foreheads indicated a yearning for intelligence. Cupped palms to cheeks symbolized a wish for charisma. And finally, hands clasped at their necks symbolized a desire for good health.

With their individual choices made, Oleg and Daniil, their faces flushed with exertion and sweat, raised their fists high. A guttural howl ripped from their throats, echoing across the camp. The other children followed suit, exhaustion evident in their movements, yet their eyes blazed with an unnatural, almost feverish determination.

In unison, their voices, ragged yet powerful, filled the air one last time.

"Spearmen! Bowmen! Swordsmen! Axemen! Artsmen! Beastmen! Grow with strength! OH!"

As the final syllable faded into the night, the children collapsed onto the snow, eyes fluttering closed, their bodies spent but definitely triumphant, thankfully not landing on the dangerous parts of their weapons still strapped to their person.

Alisa chuckled softly. The ritual had achieved its desired effect, but it still wasn't designed for small, growing bodies. They would undoubtedly feel the strain in the morning, but for now, they slept soundly, wrapped in dreams of mighty strength and the promise of a brighter future.

To no one's surprise, only the youngest little warrior remained awake. Thanks to her Wendigo physiology, Za'kala had survived the extreme demands of the ritual itself.

Za'kala stood amidst the sleeping bodies, the glow of her red eyes dimming, the only one standing in the clearing amidst a puddle of collapsed bodies slightly bigger than hers. Turning towards her favorite brother, Daniil, sprawled face-down on the snow, Za'kala whimpered. She knelt down beside him and nudged him, then shook his back.

Nothing.

He lay sprawled on the cold ground, utterly unresponsive to her gentle nudges and soft calls. Panic threatened to rise in her chest. Reaching forward, she carefully lifted an eyelid, her gaze meeting only the emptiness of sleep in the brown depths. Relief washed over her as she realized he wasn't hurt, just deeply exhausted.

Za'kala knew exactly what to do. With practiced ease, she maneuvered herself under Daniil's fallen form, wriggling until she was nestled chest-to-chest with him. Her small arms and legs wrapped him in a tight embrace, her face burrowing comfortably against his shoulder, taking his scent in.

She's almost bigger than him now, but it's still her haven, her favorite place to be, curled up within the warmth of her brother. Tonight, however, his usual comforting presence wouldn't be there. There would be no sleepy mumbles, no gentle kisses on her forehead, no return squeeze to validate her love.

She didn't understand why the ritual had affected them so much, why her brother and friends were seemingly lifeless. But she knew one thing for certain – she wouldn't leave his side. She would be his protector tonight, a little Wendigo guarding her big brother against the cold and the darkness just like her Uncle Patriot, ready to greet him with a smile and a hug when he finally woke.

Moments later, Alisa materialized beside them, her eyes crinkling at the sight. With practiced ease, she scooped them both up, Daniil seeming no heavier than a stuffed animal in her arms. A gentle kiss landed on the boy's head as she turned towards their hut, the other parents and guardians mirroring her movements to collect their sleeping children.

Matteo passed her by and scooped up Oleg in his armored arms, "Really let themselves go, huh?" He joked behind her.

"Indeed." Alisa agreed, nuzzling both Daniil and Za'kala's heads as she reached the seated Wendigo.

Passing Buldrokkas'tee by, Alisa couldn't resist a playful jab. Stopping beside him, a smirk danced on her lips. "Look what you've done," She teased. "They pushed themselves far too hard, all because their idol was watching and they didn't want to disappoint him."

Buldrokkas'tee let out a low, good-natured harrumph. "That was not my intention," He rumbled.

"Well, you certainly inspired quite a spectacle," She countered, amusement bubbling in her voice. Stepping closer, she playfully presented the children to him. "Here, take a look at your little admirers. They practically worshipped the ground you walked on tonight."

There was a different intent behind her words, however, and Buldrokkas'tee is already aware of it. And he is not afraid. Not anymore.

Buldrokkas'tee reached out a massive, armored hand. He gently patted Daniil's head and lingered for a moment on Za'kala's, his touch tender and tinged with real affection, his thumb brushing over her little forehead. "Good night, little ones," He rumbled softly. "May the land grace your dreams with peace tonight."

Alisa watched him, a flicker of warmth creeping into her chest. The old, broody Wendigo from last year has come so far. All her efforts weren't for nothing.

Emboldened by this sudden sense of connection in her heart, she offered him her forehead, and he met her touch with a gentleness she wasn't familiar with, even in the presence of the children. The cool metal of his helm sent a shiver down her spine, but it was a feeling intertwined with a sense of safety and security.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before Alisa broke away, her soft voice clinging to his ears as she walked towards her hut. "Good night, Buldrokkas'tee,"

---

The Kazdelian battleship, a newly-developed leviathan of steel groaning against the relentless bite of the desert wind, carved its path through a sea of sand. The desolate landscape stretched out in an endless expanse of ochre dunes and sun-bleached rock formations. Inside, Jacob and Theresa were already well on their way to a prize he'd unearthed from the unforgiving embrace of RIM Billiton just weeks ago.

Weeks ago, Theresa had expressed a fervent desire to find this particular Landship, buried deep in the unforgiving barrens of RIM Billiton. Ever so eager to make her happy, Jacob had already found it and in a much shorter timeframe than she would have accomplished on her own. His reward? A display of affection that literally stole the air of his lungs: abandoning all decorum, Theresa had thrown herself into his arms, her kiss slamming into his lips.

It wasn't a mere kiss; it was extremely aggressive. She had him pinned against the nearest wall with severe prejudice as she devoured his lips, as if she was making sure he doesn't mistake her gratitude for anything else.

And it was so prolonged. Losing track of time? Try forgetting the world existed during that moment. It was so unlike her, so violent and hungry, and he loved it.

The interesting secrets and mysterious present in the ancient vessel aside, the Landship itself was practically his gift to Theresa. Ownership was already secured in her name, deeds signed and sealed, legalities completed, all that remained was a simple financial transaction. Then, it was off to be towed to a specialized mobile platform for the long-awaited repairs and modifications. It wouldn't be easy; the vessel was more decrepit than functional, full of sand and a few critters living in it. But with a bit of love and a lot of ingenuity, they might just get it humming again.

All else fails, they can just use his Divinity as a shortcut. A transaction Theresa can repay with a wonderful evening. He won't care how that sounds to others.

Their departure from Kazdel a week prior had been a bustling affair. Theresa's loyal bodyguards and a retinue of trusted associates formed the backbone of their expedition. Unfortunately, that retinue also included Kal'tsit, whose presence was as unwelcome as it was strangely insistent from the latter. According to Theresa, Kal'tsit had been the driving force behind the landship's search, her initial fixation predating Theresa's own.

Despite his usual bitching around Kal'tsit, Jacob found himself more than welcoming the Lynx's presence. Seeing the usually stoic doctor genuinely excited and interested in this venture made him gape in the mouth, an anomalous sight that nonetheless drew his full attention. In fact, it was intriguing. Here was a woman who rarely found anything captivating for as long as he knew her, yet the prospect of this Landship had her practically buzzing.

It's hard not to be interested though. Just what secrets is she privy about the Landship that she's acting outside her usual self? He could just ask, of course. Kal'tsit had sworn her transparency to him, and he's already used to her cryptic responses that he can already see through most of it, but where's the fun in that? For an immortal, discovering things on his own usually kept his heart beating with life, more willing to spend another day in the world before he met Theresa.

There was a bittersweet pang to this adventure though. For one thing, the distance from the eyes of Kazdel's elites offered a perfect opportunity to introduce Theresa to the people of his Sanctuary, to acquaint her with the Sarkaz that grew there. But this same distance also meant the least amount of time he can enjoy Theresa's lips and hands, not with the others around, especially Kal'tsit - fucking Cockblocker.

It was frustrating. He feels extremely dry, and that kiss from Theresa stopped being delicious as a memory anymore.

Still, the silver lining remained, a chance for change to come physically. He understood the traditional Sarkaz belief system – those who turned away from their grievances were seen as traitors, further exacerbated by most of the Sarkaz tribe leaders actively encouraging it. This self-perpetuating cycle of bitterness was something he's been trying to stop, even to this day as Kazdel's Samaritan.

In comparison, Theresa's followers were a lot that knew better, a quality he deeply admired. Perhaps, just perhaps, his people and Theresa's associates could find common ground. There was hope yet. His Sanctuary could bridge the gap between past and future, fostering a new generation of Sarkaz who looked forward, not back. They can strengthen her campaign in Kazdel.

Meanwhile, in the dusty and isolated interior of an unused storage room of the Warship, the rhythmic crunch of mortar and pestle echoed through the sparsely furnished room as Jacob meticulously ground herbs for his special incense. He ignored the whoosh of the automatic door opening behind him, his horns detecting multiple heat signatures entering the room.

"May we poach a bit of your time, Lord Samaritan? There's a matter of concern we would like to relate to you." A female voice inquired, polite but firm, as the first person stepped into the room.

Jacob remained focused on his task, not bothering to turn around as he spoke, his voice a low growl mixing with a hiss. "Green, I've told you and the others countless times – these formalities are reserved for Kazdel's courtly circles or official business. Especially not here, not in front of me. You sound like a bunch of preening courtiers, and frankly speaking, it's worse than a toothache. Disgusting, even. Could you quit? Remember how I raised you? Not to turn into self-important windbags. Talk to me straight, the way you used to as a kid, the one who used to yank scales off my tail for 'lucky charms'."

Green chuckled, a brief but hearty sound. It carried the warmth of the good old times. "Always the charmer, Pa," Green replied, her voice carrying the comfortable familiarity of old times. "And yes, I still have one of those scales tucked away." She added, with a wink, even if he doesn't see it. "We're coming in, alright?"

With ease, she and her entourage navigated the room, all while dodging his sweeping tail and avoiding any knee-knocking collisions with his impressive frame. These were lessons learned the hard way during their childhood. It was so long ago, but nothing's changed with their ease of movement and the deeply-ingrained caution.

Seven in total, these kids were, just a selected handful of the hundred and more he raised after the war. They used to be so pathetic and dependent. Now they were a far cry from the scrawny, scale-collecting youngsters he remembered.

In the 164 years since he had last seen them, time had carved their passage on their faces really well, transforming them from cheeky youngsters into imposing adults, and their horns caught the eye really well. Each one carried themselves with a strength that had blossomed over the years, and surprisingly, beneath their utilitarian gear, were undeniably attractive features. He couldn't help but blame Theresa's influence for that – the woman always took the time to compliment their appearances, fueling a healthy dose of self-care in his wards so they can hear it more.

Despite a touch of vanity, he couldn't deny the wisdom that shone in their eyes – a reflection of Theresa's vision for a better Kazdel. A future where Sarkaz will never have to be ruined because of each other or from someone else repeatedly.

"Let's not waste time," Jacob rumbled, continuing his work with the mortar and pestle. His words carried the familiar and recognizable weight of a millennia, a Chimera who could anticipate actions and unspoken thoughts before they even materialized. Facades and pretensions crumble quickly if he wanted it. Here, with these kids, it's a very familiar feeling to them since childhood. They were like souls, naked before their god.

And in the physical realm, sometimes the difference doesn't exist. "You didn't come here to watch me work incense. Spit it out. What's on your minds?" He demanded.

Green, ever the person at the front, offered a grateful nod for his directness. Her face, however, was etched with seriousness, something her companions are mirroring in their faces.

"We need you to stop, Pa," She said, her voice grim. "Finish your task if you must, but what I'm about to tell you requires your full attention."

He already knew what it's going to be. These kids practically don't have skulls to hide their thoughts anymore. Even so, Jacob refrained from letting his awareness overshadow their need to speak. He recognized the value of them expressing themselves, their agency.

"Alright," He rumbled, setting down the pestle and rising to his full height, his horns nearly scratching the ceiling. He towered over everyone in the room, a veritable mountain of a Chimera with more horns than any of them had height despite their growth. Yet, his former wards stood their ground, their gazes unwavering even as he met Green's stare head-on. "Let's hear it."

They exchanged glances, each taking a deep breath as if readying themselves for a plunge into icy water. Green stepped forward, her posture radiating a fighter's tension. Her voice, when she spoke, surprised him with its directness, devoid of its usual playful banter.

"Do you love Her Majesty?"

A flicker of surprise – and perhaps a tinge of disappointment – crossed Jacob's face. He'd anticipated this question, but not from Green, not from the one who was once a parasite stuck to his side before the war.

Just to clarify. "Come again?" He asked, his voice low and rumbling.

"Do you love our King, Theresa?" Green repeated, her voice edged with a tremor he hadn't heard before.

He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. "Of course I do." He finally said, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "As much as one of you can love your King. And just like you, we show our love according to how we think the other will appreciate."

Jaw clenched, Green tapped her foot impatiently, a small movement that somehow resonated in the room with the force of a Sankta's cannon. "This isn't about me or the others. This isn't about the world or your supposed duty. This is about you. I'll ask again. Do you love her?"

Frustration flared within him. He huffed, the sound a puff of hot air. "Do I love her?" He scoffed, a huffing breath escaping his nostrils. "I love her, Green. I love Theresa more than a retainer should his King. More than you can even begin to imagine."

"How do you love her, Pa?" Green persisted, undeterred by his rise to an outburst she used to cry from.

His tail lashed against the floor in agitation, but his voice remained steady. "So much..." He growled, "...that the horrors of the war, of seeing Kazdel being ravaged in front of me, could not even come close to how I felt when she became King. It was...the worst day of my life. Before the war, before everything went to hell, I had plans. I was going to propose. I wanted to swear on everything I held dear that I would dedicate every fiber of my being to her happiness. I wanted to build a life with her, a simple life, a life filled with nothing but her. Far from...all this…all this political garbage she's in."

He tilted his head, a loud crack echoing as his neck bones strained. "But she's the King now, and all my dreams, gone. Ashes. Dead the day she was coronated. But even so, I'm still her second half. I've given her more than I ever could have imagined in my life, and I'll keep giving. I will not stop giving. Every ounce of my strength, down to the last inch of my tail, all so she can achieve her goals. Because that, Green, is love. True love. And when that day comes, when everything is done and she reached her summit, then she has a choice. She can either put the crown down, or shove it in my hands so I can crush it to dust. And only then, once this charade is over, we can finally be together."

Green's posture softened, the coiled tension visibly unwinding from her body. The relief emanating from her and her companions was palpable. Their rigid stances, primed for action just moments ago, relaxed into a more natural state. She wiped at her eyes with a gloved hand, her voice filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"We already knew, you know, about you two." Green confessed, her voice husky with emotion. "The way you two look at each other, the way you talk about each other, even you two can't seem to get away from each other for several minutes – it's not exactly subtle...not like you two were even trying to in the first place since you came back 4 years ago. We just...well, we just never said anything or drew attention to it by asking. When we get bored, we talked to some others outside the palace walls. You know, the soldiers, mercenaries, even the occasional civilian. When we asked them this one question, they all say the same thing. That is, unanimously, that you, and only you, should be Theresa's consort."

Murmurs of assent rippled through the group. Their King, known for her kindness and unwavering spirit, deserved someone selfless and strong. Jacob, their Samaritan, fit that description perfectly. Both had done so much for Kazdel, each of their services spanning for more than a hundred years. And over the last 4 years since Jacob returned, the number of accomplishments doubled, contributed to both their names.

Green and every other child raised by the Chimera, the ones who personally witnessed the immense sacrifices both Theresa and Jacob had made for Kazdel in their lifetimes, couldn't help but agree this was a perfect match.

Green spoke with a vulnerability she rarely displayed. "And frankly, I'm happy for it, for you both. Really. Of course, there are always going to be those who think nobody's good enough for Theresa, or even saying nobody should, but they can all go to hell. She deserves someone better, and there's no one better than you. She deserves nobody but you."

Her companions stood a little straighter, some crossing their arms, others clenching their fists, all struggling to hold back the emotions that threatened to crack their stoic facades. They understood the weight of Green's words. Theresa shouldered a heavy burden as Queen, striving for the betterment of all Sarkaz.

"She works tirelessly, day and night, for us Sarkaz, for all of Kazdel," Green continued, her voice thick with a bitter sentiment. "There are no words to express my gratitude for all she's done for us. The only thing I can do is to do my duty, be her guard. She smiles for us, always bringing her sunshine into our lives, but I know she's hurting. She's holding it all in, and she can't stop doing it because she wants to be strong for us, always"

Her fist clenched, a tremor running through her. "I want to do something, anything, to lighten her load. But I…" Green faltered, gesturing helplessly to her companions who remained silent, their expressions mirroring her frustration. "...I don't think it'll be enough."

Jacob, however, disagreed. He knew Theresa cherished even the smallest gesture, a truth Green couldn't comprehend, even to this day as an adult. To her, meaning equated to the scale of the action, and he only met her standards of a saint by coincidence.

"That's why... Pa, just be there for her," She said finally. "Keep doing what you do. Be her support, being the strength and comforts she needs when I can't. You helping her is better than anything I could do. Trust me, knowing just that keeps out all my anxieties. And I swear on everything I hold dear, I will make sure you two get married. A wedding fit for Theresa and my Pa – it will have everything. The chuppa, the hennas on your hands, the brightest clothes, flowers, jewelries, feasts - I'll invite everybody else as well, damn their duties. There will be everything. No matter what."

His companions echoed her sentiments, grunts and chest-pounds filling the room. A wave of warmth washed over Jacob, and to hear all these things from Green, of all people, struck deeper than he had thought.

Green's expression hardened, a playful danger sparkling in her eyes. "You took care of me when no one else did. Gave me a family, loved me fiercely. You are the reason I can stand beside these people, never truly alone. You showed me what loyalty meant, what love really feels like. There's nothing you can't do to make me happy and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. But…" She paused, her voice dropping to a low growl, "...none of that makes you invincible, especially if you hurt her. Make her cry, betray her trust, or even look at another woman the wrong way…there's nothing I wouldn't do to make your worst day pale in comparison. I will hunt you down and make your life a living hell."

Green's stern warning hung heavy in the air, a tense silence gripping the room. Then, a tremor shook Jacob, a hitch in his breath that morphed into a muffled chuckle. He fought to suppress it, clamping a hand over his mouth, but the sound escaped in a series of choked snorts.

Green quivered, her entire demeanor bristling. "What's so funny? I'm serious! I meant it, you overgrown freak! Theresa's practically my mother, you know! She's been around most of my life, while you were…well, gone! 164 years! I counted! You raised me, sure, but she was there for the long haul. You just...showed up again!"

The snickers turned into full-blown laughter, a deep rumble emanating from Jacob's chest.

He waved a dismissive hand at Green, wiping tears from his eyes as the laughter subsided. "Easy there, Green," He chuckled, his voice still raspy with amusement. "Don't get your horns in a twist. I understand your protectiveness, honest. I mean, this is Theresa we're talking about here, the greatest thing that ever happened to anyone that met her. And frankly, I expected a lecture on keeping her safe or watch over her since she's the type to hold it in. That much, I already knew. I do the sooner I'm with her. But all this posturing, this threat of violence? Threatening me? Threatening me? That's what all this was about? Because of some grand theft of a maternal figure? Did the mere thought of me taking her away scare you all so much it sent you all into a protective frenzy!?"

Green's face went from indignant to a furious scarlet. Her companions shifted uncomfortably, the accusation hitting a little too close to home. "Th-that's not it at all!" She stammered, voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "You're in love with the King of Kazdel! This isn't the time for petty feelings and-"

Her protest was cut short by a sharp, sickening crack that echoed through the confined space. All eyes snapped towards Green, horror contorting their features. A crimson mark blossomed on her cheek.

Frozen in shock, Green reached up to touch the burning welt, tears welling in her eyes. Her strong, defiant aura vanished, replaced by a regression to the scared child she once was. Shamefaced and bewildered, she looked like she might crumble any moment.

Jacob lowered his hand, the sting of the slap lingering on the palm. His gaze shifted to his children, all bowed low in a mixture of apology and fear, unable to meet his eyes.

A heavy sigh escaped him. They were still his young ones, prone to flinching under his wrath, the memory of his beatings etched deep in their minds.

When he spoke, the rumbling of stone and earth was firm and cold, leaving no room for any argument. "Never do that. Never again. Do not doubt my love for Theresa. You cannot question it. You simply cannot."

He gently cupped Green's face, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes welled over, reflecting a wounded pain. "Green, I tolerate questions, because my very nature invites them. It's easy to forget, even to myself, but I don't function like you, like a human. The things I do...they look incomprehensible and bizarre, making you question your own reality, like something out of a myth. So ask. Question my thoughts, my methods, even my sanity. Strategy, plans… anything that troubles you, I expect you to voice it because it's your right to do so. As long as time allows, I'll answer to the best of my ability. Whether you find my answers palatable is irrelevant. Feelings are fickle. I cannot control them, nor do I seek to. I can only expect them."

A lash of his tail against the steel floor sent a metallic clang reverberating through the room. It made them flinch, as if they were hit instead. The sound mirrored the sickening thud of past beatings. It came first before his fists. Thankfully, they remained unclenched.

"But my faith, my loyalty, my dedication – these are beyond question. I am ancient, Green, so ancient that the human mindset I once had is so far away that it blurs my memory. It is Theresa who keeps me grounded, and for her sake, I stay humble. She lives in a human world, a world of human joys. My way – the way of a Semigod – is not hers. Every single second I'm with her - Every single time I thought about her, I struggle to not pull her into my world, to force compromises to suit me. This isn't about me, it's about her. And I know what matters most. She deserves happiness, and I bend myself to fit into her reality, no matter how frustrating or painful it is for me."

Jacob released her jaw, frowning, "I have not failed, and I will not start now. Do you understand?"

Green's teary eyes darted away, a choked sob escaping her lips. "...Yes, Pa," She mumbled, the word barely audible.

"Louder!" He roared, the sound echoing through the confined space of the room, causing it to vibrate slightly. "You're not a kid anymore, Green! You're a soldier, Theresa's guard, handpicked for this expedition! You shouldn't be reduced to whimpers! Again! Do you understand me!?"

Green flinched at the force of his voice, her gaze snapping back to him. Tears streamed down her face, but her jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to regain her composure. "Yes, Pa! I understand!" She shouted, her voice hoarse with the effort to be heard over the pounding of her heart.

Jacob swept his gaze over the room, his presence once again filling the space with an almost tangible weight. He whipped his tail against the floor, the resounding clang making them all jump. "The rest of you, do you understand!?" He bellowed.

"Yes, Pa!" They roared in unison, the sound raw and desperate.

And just as quickly as the storm had begun, it ended. The crushing pressure that had descended upon them seemed to evaporate, replaced by a tense silence. Jacob stood unmoving for a moment, gauging their reaction. Finally, with a deep breath, he let the sternness drain from his features.

A gentleness, so unexpected it almost surprised him, softened his eyes. Reaching out, he carefully placed his large hands on Green's shoulders. With a tenderness that belied his monstrous form, he pulled her close, enveloping her in a powerful embrace.

Green, for a fleeting moment, resisted the urge to push him away. But the fierce soldier she had become crumbled beneath the unexpected warmth, and she found herself melting into his hold. More than anything, she craved the comfort she hadn't realized she desperately needed. Tears streamed down her face, soaking his rough-spun shirt, as she sobbed uncontrollably. Jacob held her silently, his large hand patting her back in a slow, steady rhythm, and he stroked her head with his other hand, a gesture so familiar it sent a wave of emotions crashing through her – love, gratitude, and a childlike sense of security.

Jacob silently huffed. She's still his little girl that hogged his chest for cuddles during the cold evenings in his barn home.

He turned his gaze to his companions, who still stood stiffly at attention. He beckoned them closer with a tilt of his head. "Come. Until you're all older than me, you're never too old for a hug."

For a moment, they hesitated, unsure how to respond to this unexpected display of vulnerability. Then, one by one, drawn by a familiar emotion older than than their fear of him, they stepped forward. The first, a weathered soldier his eyes recognized from his childhood days with them, took a hesitant step forward. Seeing his movement, the others followed suit, emboldened by a shared sense of purpose.

Finally, they were all gathered around him, a circle of warriors in a group embrace. Jacob's tail extended to impossible lengths, wrapping around each of them in a way he's known for. It looped around the last man, completing the circle. He was the youngest among them, named Chipped, a man barely older than Green had been when they were taken in, found himself nestled right against Jacob's chest beside her, a place he hadn't occupied in years. Green felt a pang in her chest, a strange mixture of joy and sorrow.

The warmth of their shared embrace, the scent of familiar bodies, brought back a flood of memories from a time when they were all just children, completely dependent on their Pa. And for this brief moment, it was okay to feel like that again. They weren't invincible soldiers; they were just scared kids seeking comfort from a father figure they both respected and feared. It was a fleeting moment, a fragile bubble of vulnerability in the harsh reality of their mission, but it was enough.

Because in the end, he's still their Pa. He'll look after them.

"I'm sorry, Pa," Green mumbled against his chest, her voice choked with tears.

"Don't," Jacob rumbled gently, surprising them all with a gesture of surprising tenderness. He brushed his hand across her hair, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "We all got what we deserved. A reminder of our place, especially me."

They lingered in the embrace for a moment longer, the unspoken apology and forgiveness hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Jacob loosened his hold, and with a sigh, Green reluctantly stepped back. The others followed suit, blinking away the lingering tears in their eyes.

"Now," Jacob said, his voice regaining its usual gruffness, "Punishment time."

The room erupted in a collective gasp. Green, in particular, shot him a look of betrayal. Hadn't they just shared a moment of understanding?

Jacob surveyed the room with a critical eye, landing on the dusty corners and haphazardly tossed equipment. "I want this place spotless," He declared, gesturing broadly. "Empty every crate, clear out any non-essential items. We'll work with mops and buckets, that means no Arts. After that, you'll prepare my incense, following my instructions exactly. Fuck it up, and I yell all your heads off."

Silence reigned for a moment as they absorbed his words. Then, Green huffed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Relief seeped into her tense form. "Alright, alright," She conceded, "You heard him, guys. Let's get to work. Group one, get rid of the junk. Group two, cleaning supplies. I found them on the west wing. I'll do the incense myself. I've seen how specifically Pa does it."

"Hold up," Chipped, the youngest of the group, chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'll be assisting our esteemed leader on the incense front. Who knows what kind of dangerous substance she'll start huffing if I'm not there to supervise?"

Green rolled her eyes, a playful shove aimed at him. "The only thing that screws up when you're around, Chipped, is my concentration. I seem to be doing just fine independently these days, thank you very much."

"Oh really?" Chipped countered, feigning innocence as he dodged the shove. "Then why did your infamous potato stew turn into a lump of socks and despair the last time you tried to cook without me? Left to your own devices, you'll transform the entire battleship into a gourmet drug den!"

Green swatted him playfully. "It was you, Chipped! Your negativity messed with the stew's karma! Just get the fuck out of my face and let me have my moment of unsupervised glory in making Pa's smoke!"

Undeterred, Chipped persisted, his voice rising in mock alarm. "Guys! I think an intervention should be in order! Green's clearly spiraling towards a herbal addiction for Pa's smoke! Look at her, so insistent on making it on her own even though she never made one before! One whiff of that incense and she'll be lost in a haze!"

The room erupted in laughter and the teasings started, Green trading barbs with Chipped while the others piled on, poking fun at their playful rivalry. Doorknob, the second woman of the group joined in and started calling Green with a clever acronym: Z.E.U.S. – Zero Effort Unless Supervised. She even suggested Green must have a crush on Chipped, considering the way she always 'loses focus' whenever he was around on the more menial things.

Suggestive whoopings and hoots ensued. Teasing about crushes was a well-worn path amongst them, and Green, despite her initial protest, couldn't help but blush. "Oh shut up, all of you! Get to work before Pa changes his mind! Don't turn spring-cleaning into a beating, for fuck's sake!"

---

The clean-up was a whirlwind of activity, the air flowing with a good amount of curses and clever insults. Moments of frustration are bountiful in supply as the group tackled the cluttered room. Constant motions of squatting and lifting with the legs turned out to be worse than a fight, more so when someone stepped on a well-scrubbed part of the floor, forcing them to do it again, leading to more curses and insults as well as a good throw of a bucket that resulted in a bump on the head.

Eventually after hours of restless work, mountains of equipment dwindled, replaced by a gleaming floor and sparkling walls. The air even seemed fresher. Additionally, Green emerged victorious, a cloud of blue smoke billowing from a round wooden bowl in the center of the room – the incense, crafted with meticulous care according to Jacob's painstakingly detailed and painfully unbearable instructions.

It was a perfect replica, its scent identical to the one he'd used in their rooms over a century and a half ago. Green basked in the praise showered upon her, a victorious grin that would undoubtedly haunt Chipped for weeks to come the moment. This triumph over complex and unidentified herbs with exacting instructions would be ammunition for her playful barbs for years to come once she lords him over it.

With a satisfied rumble, Jacob led them to the mess hall. There, amidst the usual fare, laid a feast reminiscent of their childhood. He'd prepared their favorites, each dish a memory on a plate. It was a familiar symphony, one that evoked images of him hunched over a pot, stirring a concoction that could rival a Banshee's most potent love potion in terms of its ability to capture hearts (and stomachs). They anticipated his arrival with anticipation and growling bellies, faces glowing with an eagerness that transcended mere hunger.

Before they could dig in, the door swung open, revealing Theresa. Her eyes landed on the spread, an adorable pout forming on her beautiful face. "Oh," She said, her voice tinged with mock hurt, "Now what is this sight occurring before my eyes? My dear subjects enjoying themselves in merriment without even a lovingly-written letter of invitation for their King? Especially from my dear consort?"

The others reasoned uncomfortably that they can't ask their King to be scrubbing floors like a servant.

She flared her nostrils indignantly, which is somehow more endearing than it is intimidating. "I wouldn't have minded getting down on my knees and scrubbing the floors myself, if it meant indulging in Jacob's cooking. His masterpieces are worth any danger for a hungry Sarkaz."

Green and her companions, ever loyal and easily cowed by their adoptive mother's adorableness, instantly switched allegiance. A chorus of agreements filled the room, some even daring to question Jacob's affections for excluding their beloved King.

Caught between his love for Theresa and a flicker of annoyance at their audacity, amplified by her presence, Jacob grumbled under his breath. A fierce glare shot their way, one that would have shut up and sent lesser souls fleeing (except Theresa, who simply batted her eyelashes innocently).

With a resigned sigh, he turned back towards the kitchen, the scent of sizzling meat and fragrant spices trailing behind him. Theresa, eyes sparkling with delight, scurried to claim a seat at the table, greeted by a chorus of welcomes from her devoted "court."

Eventually, he'd spoiled them rotten, and by the looks of their distended bellies and happy sighs, they were utterly content. Once they were able to stand up, he ushered them back to the room they cleaned, where the blue incense continued to fumigate the space inside, literally suffocating it.

Standing outside the closed door, he addressed Theresa. Originally, this was supposed to be a private first contact with her. But now with her loyal band of guards behind her, the audience had grown considerably. Thankfully, these were familiar faces, and the potential for chaos was minimal.

"Theresa," He began, his voice taking on a diplomatic smoothness, "I'm about to initiate first contact between the Sarkaz of Kazdel and the Sarkaz of my Sanctuary. I require your open-mindedness and a peaceful interaction."

Theresa clasped her hands in delight. "Wonderful! I've been dying to meet them ever since you first mentioned them. I understand if it wasn't the right moment to rush you, so I held my tongue over the last 4 years."

A hint of a smile tugged at Jacob's lips – a semi-sarcastic one, perhaps. "Your patience is appreciated." He then turned to Green and her companions, his gaze lingering for a moment. "Green and company, do you understand the gravity of this moment?"

"Understood, Lord Samaritan," They replied in unison, though a collective wince followed as the reflexive use of the title made them feel quesy.

He gave a curt nod. "Stay here. What you're about to see is the threshold to another world – my world." He pushed the door open, revealing a room swirling in a fog of blue vapor. Any details of the interior were completely obscured by the thick haze.

"This door leads to a portal. None of you are permitted to enter… yet. Many of the Sarkaz within haven't laid eyes on the Kazdelian King, nor spoken to their original kin in over fifty years. Some even longer."

Theresa, ever the diplomat, chimed in with a confident smile. "Oh, then there's no need to worry. I'm quite adept at making first impressions."

Jacob chuckled, a warm sound tinged with a hint of amusement. "Yes you are." With a final glance at his companions, he stepped through the swirling blue portal, disappearing into the unknown.

Left to themselves, Green turned to Theresa and asked. "So, uh, Your Majesty-"

Theresa's smile was playful but firm as she turned around. "Green, remember what Jacob always says? No formalities outside of Kazdel. Besides, this isn't some official ceremony. It's a chance to meet our distant relatives! We should be thrilled!"

Green chuckled, a hint of sheepishness in her voice. "Yes... Theresa. But honestly, I can't believe I never heard about this Sanctuary or these Sarkaz cousins before. How long has Pa been telling you about them?"

Theresa answered. "Just four years ago, actually, the day after he arrived. Apparently, during those 164 years he was gone, he's been building a community – a Sanctuary – for Sarkaz mercenaries who needed a way out and any Infected he could save."

Green nodded in recognition. "Right, I remember you talking about those adventures during dinners. I always volunteered for guard duty just to hear them. But I never heard anything about this Sanctuary before. Did you keep that a secret on purpose?"

Theresa offered a sheepish smile. "Well, it seemed important to him, and I didn't want to be careless with the information. I figured it would be best coming from him directly. But now that he has, let's put on our best smiles and meet the family, shall we?"

Green's heart warmed at Theresa's innocent intent. "Yes, Theresa," she agreed, a genuine smile gracing her lips."

Just then, Chipped chimed in beside Green, a smirk dancing across his face. "Hey Green, better make sure you brushed your teeth before you meet your high-and-mighty cousins. I'm sure they'd appreciate proper decorum over yellow molars."

Green's smile sputtered. She turned to glare playfully at Chipped, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the group.

Moments later, Jacob emerged from the swirling smoke, waving a hand to clear the haze clinging stubbornly to his face. An unusual air of anticipation crackled around him, a contrast to his usual self that's barely surprised by anything. Even the easy camaraderie Green and her companions usually shared seemed muted, replaced by a tense awareness of the momentous event unfolding, their postures straightened and ready in reflex.

Jacob held up a finger, drawing everyone's attention. "A reminder," He rumbled, his voice low and heavy, "These people speak the original Lingua Franca. The Sanctuary predates the fall of Gaul, so recall your cues and conjugations when interacting with them."

Theresa glanced at Green and her squad, a knowing smile playing on her lips. A silent message passed between them, a quick mental rummaging for dusty memories of Gallian grammatical rules. She turned back to Jacob, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness masked by confidence, "Nous serons prêts quand tu le seras, Jacob." (We will be ready when you are, Jacob.)

He let out a satisfied hum, his approval evident, "Magnifique." (Magnificent.)

Stepping aside, he gestured towards the blue haze with a sweeping motion of his arm, inviting the unseen inhabitants to cross over. "Entrez ici," (Enter here.)

The blue vapor writhed and churned, parting like a curtain to reveal the first figure stepping out of the Sanctuary and into the world of Terra.

A collective breath was held as a bare foot, adorned with intricate henna tattoos, emerged from the swirling mist. A long, flowing skirt, its rich brown fabric emblazoned with traditional Sarkaz embroidery, followed, clinging to a surprisingly slim waist before flaring out around wide hips. A smooth navel and bare midriff were exposed to the cool air of the battleship for a fleeting moment before being obscured by a vibrant poncho. The lack of an undershirt beneath was unmistakable – she's completely naked under the woven garment.

Her arrival sent a collective gasp through the assembled group. In her tattooed arms, she cradled a weapon that sent a jolt of fear down their spines. It was a gun – a Sankta's weapon, an MG-42, a legendary firearm some recalled whispered stories about, its fire compared to an Arts laser in its destructive power.

With fiery red hair cascading down her back and bright green eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light, she embodied the classic image of a Sankta warrior.

Closer inspection, however, revealed an anomaly that left them speechless. Yes, she was undoubtedly a Sankta, with the telltale green wings that resembled shattered glass scythes for her case, and a glowing halo hovering behind her head instead of above.

But defying all logic, Horns, unmistakably Sarkaz in origin, curled gracefully from her temples, an impossible combination, a heresy defying all understanding between their races. And as if that wasn't enough, a Pythian tail swished gently behind her, its white scales catching the light.

This woman was a walking paradox, a fusion of three distinct bloodlines, an abomination by all accounts. Her very presence should have triggered a primal urge to attack in any true-blooded Sarkaz.

Yet, the Sarkaz warriors remained frozen in awe. Perhaps it was the undeniable Sarkaz features, the combination of incompatible features, or maybe she exemplified what Jacob meant, that he's capable of things that no one thought was even possible.

Theresa, however, understood. Unlike the others, she was aware of Hanina, the only Sankta girl who resided in the Sanctuary, the subject of Jacob's frequent and proud stories. Theresa knew of Hanina's unique lineage, a product of the Sanctuary's blending races.

With a warm smile gracing her lips, Theresa extended her hands in a welcoming gesture. "Bienvenue à Terra, Mlle Hanina," She greeted in Gallian, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "Je m'appelle Theresa, et je vous salue de tout cœur en tant que roi de Kazdel et très chère à votre père adoptif." (Welcome to Terra, Miss Hanina. I am Theresa, and I greet you with all my heart as the King of Kazdel and one who holds your adoptive father very dear.)

Hanina stood frozen, her gaze fixed on the diminutive Sarkaz King who extended her greetings with genuine warmth and welcome. Her hands tightened around the weapon in her grasp, her trigger finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

Theresa, undeterred by Hanina's apprehension, continued to smile. "Vous avez peur de moi, n'est-ce pas?" (You're afraid of me, aren't you?) She asked softly, her voice laced with empathy. Stretching out her arms further, she gestured towards a hug rather than a handshake. "Jacob m'a parlé de ce que tu as souffert, de ce que tu as vu et enduré à Ursus. Cela a dû faire très mal, n'est-ce pas, de voir une telle absence de cœur?" (Jacob has told me about your suffering, about what you witnessed and endured in Ursus. It must have been very painful, hasn't it, to see such a lack of heart?)

The tall Sankta's body tensed visibly upon the mention of her trauma, her jaw clenched as she took a step back. Her tail swished menacingly, and her grip on the machine gun tightened, her finger coming close to curling around the trigger. However, the barrel remained pointed to the side, not at Theresa or the others.

Green, sensing the growing tension, instinctively reached for the sword and axe strapped to her waist. The rest of the squad followed suit, their hands instinctively moving towards their weapons, ready to protect their King.

Jacob raised a hand, his eyes fixed on both Hanina and Theresa. His gaze held a silent command, for understanding and patience. Moreover, to let Theresa handle everything. She can do this on her own.

Theresa, despite the hostile reception from the towering woman, maintained her gentle demeanor. "Vous êtes sorti de votre maison et vous êtes entré dans le pays des hommes mauvais. C'est ce que vous pensez, et je ne vous en veux pas." (You've left your home and entered the land of evil men. That's what you believe, and I don't blame you.)

She looked directly into Hanina's eyes, her gaze filled with compassion and understanding. "Mais s'il vous plaît, soyez ouvert à moi, et voyez que je n'ai que de la chaleur et de l'attention pour vous. Tu es l'enfant chéri de Jacob, et il t'a tenu en haute estime comme son bien le plus précieux. C'est pourquoi je te traiterai de la même manière. Un enfant en qui je peux avoir confiance sans poser de questions, et je te protégerai." (But please, be open to me, and see that I have nothing but warmth and care for you. You are Jacob's beloved child, and he has held you in high esteem as his most precious possession. That is why I will treat you the same way. A child I can trust without question, and I will protect you.)

Hanina's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze darting between Theresa and Jacob. The warmth and sincerity in Theresa's words were undeniable, and she would know as somebody that was ever the closest to Jacob in terms of reading people straight to their soul. And Theresa is completely genuine in her care for the Sankta, down to the last fiber with not even a lick of pretension in her words.

Jacob remained silent as he met Hanina's pleading gaze, offering no guidance or instruction. He left the decision entirely in her hands.

With a hesitant voice, barely above a whisper, Hanina asked, "Aimez-vous mon père?" (Do you love my father?)

Theresa nodded without hesitation. "Je l'aime," (I love him) She replied, her voice filled with conviction. "Je ne peux rien dire de plus. Il a tant fait pour moi, et il est une partie irremplaçable de mon cœur. Je n'affronterais pas le monde avec force s'il n'était pas là." (I cannot say more. He has done so much for me, and he is an irreplaceable part of my heart. I would not face the world with strength if he were not here.)

Theresa's smile grew warmer, her heart filled with compassion for the frightened Sankta girl. She took a step forward, her arms still outstretched. "Viens ici, Hanina," (Come here, Hanina) She beckoned gently. "Je ne peux pas vous demander de pardonner au monde ou de lui faire à nouveau confiance. Mais tout n'est pas sombre dans le monde. Il y a aussi de la gentillesse et de l'amour. Commence par moi, et je te le montrerai." (I can't ask you to forgive the world or to trust it again. But not everything in the world is bleak and dark. There's kindness and love too. Start with me, and I can show it to you.)

Hanina hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting between Theresa and Jacob. Then, slowly, she lowered her weapon with a soundless placement. A monumental display of surrender and trust in Jacob's eyes, extremely fragile and ridiculously precious. This is something he warned Theresa about, and she managed to coax it out of the Sankta in short order.

Jacob wondered just how long did she imagine this exact scenario and simulated so many approaches for the best outcome she can conjure.

Hanina took hesitant steps forward, as if still fearing the worst. The sooner she knelt down within Theresa's reach, the latter's arms enveloped her in a warm embrace, her touch as motherly and reassuring as it can be.

Hanina's body stiffened at first, but then she slowly relaxed, her eyes tearing as she buried them in Theresa's shoulder, her tattooed hands slowly reaching up to clutch at the her dress, her white tail gently coiling around the both of them.

And just like that, Diplomacy is achieved.

Stifling a cough to avoid disrupting the emotional connection, Jacob subtly gestured for Green and her squad to retreat from the vicinity with him. Green, caught between the heartwarming scene unfolding and the nagging worry of leaving Theresa alone with a potentially volatile Sankta, hesitated.

"Is it alright to just leave them alone?" She whispered, catching up to Jacob's long strides. "What if something happens? Can't we leave at least two people to look out?"

Jacob didn't break stride. "I trust Theresa..." He replied with an air of finality, "...and the Horned-Tailed Sankta trusts me. Hanina knows my feelings for Theresa, but the outside world is still her enemy. It's a place of pain, especially intolerant of the Infected. If she's ever to be a true asset to Theresa's goals, she needs to learn to love it again. Only Theresa can show her how, and much better than me. But that can only happen without interruption."

Green grumbled, casting another lingering glance back. "Alright, alright," She conceded, "But if things go south, I'm intervening. Don't you dare try and stop me."

"There's no need for such worry," Jacob countered, his voice laced with a certainty Green couldn't quite decipher. "But others might not be as understanding as you. No matter if Hanina is the only Sankta Theresa can trust wholeheartedly, raised in a Sarkaz home where love and acceptance were her birthright, Kazdel's Sarkaz won't forgive a Sankta easily. They will be the ones to make things go south, Green. And that includes Theresa's followers."

His words hung heavy in the air, causing Green to halt mid-step, unable to comprehend such a statement from him, especially when he'd never say such things so lightly.

Then she noticed an anomaly on everything around her.

A jolt of confusion ran through her as she scanned her surroundings. She'd been following Jacob down the familiar hallway, yet now they stood inside a storage room, one that's separate from the other that endured a cleaning frenzy. Panic flickered in the eyes of her squad mates, mirroring her own confusion. How did they get here? This wasn't right. The layout of the battleship dictated three turns before reaching this room, and certainly not this quickly.

Jacob turned to face Green, his gaze intense. "Green, do you know what Theresa truly desires? What is her ultimate goal beyond uniting Kazdel?"

Green faltered, her initial response forgotten. The question hung heavy, prompting her to reassess what she thought she knew. After a moment of deliberation, she cautiously answered, "To stop the fighting?"

"Yes, to stop the fighting," Jacob agreed. "But why? Why stop the fighting? Why is there conflict? Why is it even there in the first place?"

Green stared back, a realization dawning on her. Whether it was instinct or the wisdom gleaned from years of experience, the answer rose quickly to the surface of her mind. "Grudges,"

"Grudges," He echoed with a grim nod. "Grudges against the Victorians. Grudges against the Lethianiens. Grudges against the Sankta. But more importantly, Grudges against yourselves."

He paced, his voice rising in frustration. "The Sarkaz are their own worst enemy, so willing to turn on each other for a scrap of bread or a handful of LMD. You've turned grudges into a virtue, ensuring you'll tear each other apart the moment someone dares to turn the other cheek. Don't think the past Kings were exempt from this. Kazdel has had peaceful Kings, and they were assassinated the very moment their vision didn't align with the warmongering conservatives and those who prioritize revenge at the cost of countless Sarkaz lives."

This revelation had struck deeper than the betrayal of his domestic dreams on that very day. It was the very reason he damed the day Theresa was crowned.

He turned to Green's squad, scanning their faces. A grim truth settled in their eyes, a mounting horror of what could happen filling their minds, reflecting the chilling possibility that Theresa might end up just like her predecessors.

Jacob's gaze swept over Theresa's loyal guards, his question hanging heavy in the air. "As followers of Theresa, you are all bound to her virtues. And I ask you this: can you truly forgive a Sarkaz who has transcended his grudges?"

To everyone's surprise, it wasn't Green who spoke first. Chipped stepped forward, his face etched with unexpected resolve. "Yes, I can forgive." His voice rang out clear and firm. "I still curse the invaders who ravaged my homeland and stole my parents. The anger still burns within me. And frankly, I despise the fact that Theresa brought Victorians and Leithaniens to Kazdel. Those people took everything from me. But what purpose would clinging to my grudges serve? Will it bring back my parents or buy me bread? Will it strengthen my bond with Green and the squad? The answer's no. All I want is to stand beside Green and everyone else, protecting Her Majesty and keeping this brotherhood strong."

Green and the others were stunned by the raw honesty and conviction in Chipped's voice. It was a stark contrast to his usual flippancy and the constant need to get a rise out of anyone.

An air of approval lingered around Jacob's form before he gestured towards a corner of the room.

As they turned their attention, a towering figure emerged from the darkness, making them suddenly hold their breaths and tense up.

A Sarkaz Goliath, his face veiled not in the usual metal faceplates but in a pristine white cloth. Unlike his brethren who wielded massive swords, this Goliath gripped a weapon far out of proportion for a normal human and far out of place for a Sarkaz in general – an anti-material rifle that resembled a cannon in his enormous hands, long enough to be his height when upright. Yet, he held it with surprising ease, his posture relaxed and confident. Unlike the scavenged firearms most Sarkaz obtained from fallen Sankta, this Goliath's weapon was pristine, properly maintained and polished as any self-respecting Sarkaz would his sword. His only secondary weapon was a large bowie knife strapped to his ankle, a seemingly impractical choice for close combat at his size.

He lowered the rifle's butt to the metal floor with a soft thud, bowing his head with a dignified air, his voice a deep rumble like distant thunder. "Shlum-elikhm, brider aun shvester fun Kazdl," (Peace be upon you, brothers and sisters of Kazdel) Lifting his gaze, his sincerity came through tangibly in their ears as he extended a large hand towards them. "Mit enivs shtrek ikh dir di hant fun freyndshaft," (With all my heart, I offer you the hand of friendship.)

Green and her squad were dumbfounded. Staring at the towering figure before them, they felt an unsettling mix of awe and confusion. Goliaths were practically synonymous with Sarkaz mercenaries, and this one exuded an aura that was entirely at odds with common expectations. Instead of the customary grim, guarded demeanor, this behemoth radiated a gentle, welcoming warmth that was almost alien in its familiarity. The veil draped over his face didn't help.

Jacob observed their reactions with a touch of amused stoicism. "If you can find it in your hearts to forgive a Sarkaz who prioritizes feeding his children instead of making sure he stabbed the other person in the eye, then perhaps there is still hope for our people."

His gaze drifted past the metal walls, peering faraway. "Just forgiving won't do anything. I know. It's inconsequential, not even going to change minds. There's so many factors that'd make forgiving even impossible to do. But the moment you forgive, when you completely abandon it, you already accomplished so much compared to more than half of Kazdel's population. I'd rather take a start, and I prefer one coming from you lot than the rest of the Sarkaz doing nothing to make things better for themselves."

Jacob's hand found a resting place on Green's shoulder, his eyes returning to the present as he gestured towards the Goliath. "And so, feel free to get started and know him a little better. I don't say this often, but I demand it. Sanctuary's education includes being multilingual so you won't have any problems. Ask him about the Sanctuary if you want, or how the Sarkaz are doing there. How living there is like. The weather too if you're desperate. Anything. I'll allow it, and I'm sure he's quite eager to share to his cousins. I only ask that you don't bring him out of this room. Not yet, at least. Oh, and don't worry about hiding him from the others. Despite how big he is, I trained him to be a good hider, and considering none of you noticed him until I pointed him out, that means he's doing a good job."

Green, still reeling from this unexpected encounter, turned to Jacob as he started to leave. "What about you, Pa? Where you going?"

"Kal'tsit," He replied simply, holding the door open. "She'll need to know about our new arrivals. And I trust you can handle a conversation without my supervision, right?"

"Uuh..." Green glanced uneasily at the Goliath, his hand of friendship still outstretched for her acceptance with dignified patience, "...sure...? I mean...I could try..."

Jacob nodded, closing the door with a firm thud.

But before they could fully process the situation, he reappeared, his horned head peeking into the room. "One more thing," He added, his voice carrying a mischievous glint. "Once you lot get to an understanding and even become best friends, immediately introduce him to Theresa. I'm sure she'll be delighted to meet another representative of the Sanctuary, and I'm certainly sure she'll love to see her guards doing their own part for her goals."

A surge of adrenaline and anticipation coursed through the squad as the door slammed shut, sealing their fate - or rather, their opportunity - within these four walls. The promise of Theresa's approval ignited a fierce determination within them, eclipsing any lingering unease or presumptuous prejudice.

Green took a deep breath, her mind racing as she hopped in place. "Okay, team." She began, her voice cutting through the charged atmosphere, "Let's make a good impression, yeah?"

Ever the provocateur and needing to fully ease the tension, Chipped seized the moment. With a dramatic flourish, he gestured towards the towering Goliath. "After you, Squad Leader. Just make sure you don't accidentally spark a diplomatic crisis, yeah? Remember that time you couldn't even reply to 'Shalom aleichem'?" A ripple of snickers and chortles erupted from the squad, and Green's face flushed with embarrassment.

She retaliated with a swift and well-aimed punch to Chipped's gut, but the latter merely laughed it off, his resilience still as impressive as his lack of self-preservation. "That was ages ago, you moron! I was just a kid, living off of Pa's back and not much of a people person! I've learned my manners since then!"

"Prove it then!" He challenged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hurry up, or his arm is going to fall off from boredom."

"Stop rushing me then!" Green retorted, her cheeks still flushed.

The Goliath's deep, rumbling chuckle cut through the playful banter, drawing all eyes back to him. With two effortless strides, he closed the distance, the butt of his anti-material rifle nearly sliding across the metal floor before soundlessly resting on the floor. His outstretched hand hovered inches from Green's.

"Shalom aleichem," He repeated, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of amusement. It was a test of her social acumen. But to the Goliath, it was a long-awaited reunion.

---

It took a whole load of threats, physical intimidation, and a retort growl against the biomechanical beast capable of leveling half the warship, but at least Kal'tsit was finally dissuaded from her pursuit of Theresa to remind her of a meeting she was supposed to be in, at least until late evening hours.

The unfortunate reality, however, was that this spectacle unfolded before a select audience of Theresa's inner circle. Jacob's announcement of the Sanctuary Sarkaz aboard the warship, a diplomatic initiative spearheaded by their King, had ignited a powder keg. The ensuing argument between Jacob and Kal'tsit was a masterclass in passive-aggressive hostility, occasionally punctuated by outright threats. The subsequent argument between the two powerhouses was a spectacle in its own right, the speed in which it got heated was alarming. It was a display that oscillated between the uncomfortable and the downright entertaining, depending on one's tolerance for high-stakes bickering. Jacob, in particular, seemed to possess an infinite reservoir of petty insults when engaged with Kal'tsit, and an even shorter fuse to boot compared to everyone else he's spoken to.

The Chimera, the Samaritan of Kazdel, acting like a petulant child, his words coming out more barbed and sharp. Kal'tsit, in turn, rose to the bait, her usually calm demeanor replaced by a steely determination.

Kal'tsit leveled the first serious accusation, claiming that Jacob's recent actions had been unilaterally-driven, bypassing the usual channels of communication. The recent unauthorized excavation of a Landship she had been meticulously preparing to acquire was a prime example of his disregard for protocol. That had undone months of preparations for smoothing the process of acquisition, followed by other open opportunities she was supposed to take advantage of escaping her, especially when they benefited her mission for Theresa. Now, with the introduction of Sanctuary's Sarkaz into the Warship, she expressed concern about the potential for unforeseen consequences. Such a brazen introduction of unfamiliar and controversial entities into the Sarkaz ecosystem was another potential disaster waiting to happen, especially once word of it reaches Kazdel.

Jacob countered without any apology or regret. He argued that Theresa had given him her full support and that her decision to bypass informing Kal'tsit first was a clear hint to her confidence in his judgment. He emphasized that he had the Sanctuary Sarkaz kept in seclusion and would not be introduced to the rest of the crew until Theresa gave the green light. He and Theresa weren't being careless. They are taking the necessary steps for a soft and gradual introduction to reduce the chaos.

Jacob also added that whatever meeting Theresa was supposed to attend to, it literally can wait. The topic would likely be just about a switch of commission over which mobile platform in RIM Billiton would fix the Landship they're towing away since the first one they had in mind had diverted their priorities. They got 2 weeks left before the deadline

Kal'tsit concedes that yes, that was the topic of the meeting and the topic can wait, but it still doesn't change the fact that Jacob is intentionally obstructing official business that the King is supposed to attend to, which is literally a felony and a breach of trust for the advisors, something that even Jacob's privileged position as Theresa's proxy couldn't excuse. He is overstepping his boundaries.

It was at this point that the conversation took a sharp, venomous turn. Kal'tsit's remark had triggered a furious response from Jacob, the context known only between them, and his spite practically warped the metal surfaces of the room when endless words and death threats started flying everywhere. Their colleagues watched in stunned silence as the two figures engaged in an exchange of what's literally a verbal massacre that lasted a grueling thirty minutes.

In the end, exhaustion, rather than reason, prevailed. Defeated, exasperated, but not subdued, Kal'tsit reluctantly agreed to postpone her meeting with Theresa.

Jacob had won the battle, but he wasn't about to to be a dick...at least, not completely. A modicum of decency remained within him, even when dealing with the likes of Kal'tsit. She deserved no quarter, but their colleagues did.

With a calculated nonchalance, he explained that while he did derailed Kal'tsit's plans for the Landship excavation, it was calculated, not just out of pure spite. He had anticipated her strategy for the Landship's acquisition and devised a parallel course of action of his own that pretty much yielded the same results. The opportunities she was talking about, he anticipated those too and acquired them the sooner they popped up. She can either take those off his hands or leave it to his, it's all up to her.

And just like that, any animosity they had with each other, perceived or otherwise, all gone. Their shared history, marked by countless eons of shared experiences, had honed their ability to compartmentalize their conflicts. They were both old souls, weary of all sorts of pettiness that were prevalent in all of humanity, and when it no longer mattered, they'd be quick to get over it. A tacit agreement to bury the hatchet always exists, at least until the next disagreement.

As evening descended, Jacob joined Kal'tsit to retrieve Theresa. Their steps echoed through the silent corridors, side by side, with Kal'tsit taking 2 steps every time Jacob took one. Their outward demeanor betrayed none of the recent confrontation earlier that nearly ended badly for the Warship's left side.

At the end of the corridor, an unexpected sight came into view. The figure of the Kazdelian King was kneeling on the cold metal floor, projecting the perfect image of serene maternal care. Her ringed fingers traced gentle patterns on the head of a sleeping Sankta girl, the latter's tattooed hands cradling one of Theresa's own to her cheek with a possessive tenderness.

Theresa met their gazes and lifted a finger to her lips, her voice hushed in reverence for the sleeping child. "Shh, the child sleeps." She whispered over the rhythmic hum of the ship, her eyes conveying a depth of affection that was both surprising, and not. This was just her typical self, only the usual recipient was different. Hanina is still a Sankta, after all.

"Child," Jacob repeated softly, amused. "In the Sanctuary, she'd be considered an elder in most circles on this ship."

Kal'tsit eyed the Sankta's horns and tail, confirming the identity she had in mind, "This must be Hanina, the anomalous Sankta from Jacob's Sanctuary. To think that the Law allowed this..." She murmured, kneeling down to inspect the green wings and halo closely.

Theresa smiled, gently brushing a stray strand of red hair from Hanina's face. "Who would have thought Jacob's little disciple would have such an adorable sleeping face?" Her voice carried a touch of fondness.

"If you remember what happened to her, you'd understand why she struggles to sleep alone. Even without the horrors of the gulag, her body and mind have developed a deep-rooted need for specific comforts before she can actually relax." Jacob explained, sitting beside the girl. His fingers found Hanina's tattooed feet and ankles. He began to gently massage the sole of her foot. "You can tell by her tail movements. It's completely still."

Theresa looked down at the sleeping girl, her image of the powerful Sankta Jacob had described at odds with the peaceful child before her. "She doesn't seem like it at all."

"How did you get her to sleep, Theresa?" He asked with genuine curiousity, increasing the pressure on Hanina's toe. "Since she was a baby, her mother and I would soothe her by massaging her feet. It's a real sleep trigger that's stuck with her to this day."

Theresa observed as Hanina's breathing deepened from his ministrations. "That's incredibly sweet to know," She cooed, taking Hanina's hand in hers, interlocking fingers. Theresa's is slightly smaller in comparison. "I wish I'd known about this earlier. She talked nonstop about the Sanctuary, and she eventually exhausting herself. I offered her my lap, and she fell asleep within an hour ago."

"An hour ago?" Jacob raised an eyebrow.

Kal'tsit, her eyes narrowing, boring into Theresa, then to Jacob, then back to the King. "In other words, you two have been engaged in uninterrupted conversation for 9 hours? In this specific location? The whole time? Have you even eaten, Your Majesty?"

Theresa, her maternal glow momentarily eclipsed by her sheepishness, exclaimed, "Of course I ate! I would have went somewhere to grab a snack for her if Little Hani here didn't brought back the most incredible apple from the magic door! It was as big as a watermelon and incredibly sweet! You should've tried it!"

Jacob's gaze flickered towards the still-fumigating interior of the portal room. "Magic door, huh?"

"Well, what else could it be?" She challenged with a smile, "It's an old storage room that you turned into a portal, and it takes you to a place that doesn't even exist on Terra's map, much less its plane of existence. In my eyes, that's a magic door. Even Miss Ermangarde calls her portals so. What would you call it then?"

"A door."

Theresa scoffed, a touch of amusement and exasperation crossing her face, "I can't believe you, Jacob. The Samaritan of Kazdel. The creator of a whole dimension called the Sanctuary, full of thousands of people hailing from every Nation in the world since the year 1005. The Semigod of Conquest. The Chimera who is capable of miraculously curing Oripathy with a mere touch. And you call a portal to another world...a 'door'. I worry for our future son or daughter. Other children will bully them to tears for it."

"Hey, I have a sophisticated system for kids, thank you very much." He retorted with slight crankiness. Jacob's tail snaked in the air and tapped Theresa gently on the nose before tapping it in-between her eyes that were getting wrinkled, "And you, in particular, look like you in serious need of sleep," He declared, his voice laced with gentle amusement.

With practiced ease, he lifted Hanina from Theresa's lap, her tall body barely jostling as she's fitted comfortably against his shoulder. The Sankta stirred slightly, her white arms finding their way around Jacob's neck, as if by some reflexive instinct. Her tail wrapped securely around his waist, anchoring her to him.

Jacob let out a soft harrumph, his tail wrapping around the handle of the MG-42 on the floor. "I'll take care of her. You go to bed for the night."

Theresa's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "That's very sweet of you, but..." Her gaze shifted to Kal'tsit, a hint of sheepishness in her eyes. "...there was a meeting I was supposed to attend, wasn't there?"

Kal'tsit's expression remained impassive, her voice a steady counterpoint. "Yes, there was."

A nervous laugh escaped Theresa's lips. "Sorry about that. I got a little carried away with the diplomatic exchange." She attempted to stand, but her legs wobbled precariously, the blood rushing back to her limbs after being compressed by Hanina's weight.

A wave of discomfort washed over her as pins and needles attacked her legs. She groaned and whimpered on the floor, her body convulsing slightly as she massaged her legs through her skirt. Jacob and Kal'tsit watched patiently as Theresa endured the discomfort.

Once the tingling subsided, she stood up, stretched and yawned dramatically. She turned to the two with a mock pout. "I can't believe you two. I believe my Kingly dignity is deeply wounded from a severe lack of attention and assistance during my moment of suffering."

Jacob replied with swift but playful dismissiveness. "A bit difficult to offer assistance when I'm occupied with a child and a firearm with 3 arms, you know."

Theresa adopted a dramatic pose, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your three arms, of course. How could I forget the gun's superior importance to the love of your life who worships the ground you walk on? The mother of your future child, who adores your kind and gentle soul? Your devoted Theresa, who showers her dearest Jacob with endless admiration in her heart and arms?"

Jacob's grin was sly, cutting through her theatrics. "Flattery will earn you nothing, my love. That is not how you pay for my wishes. But if this is your subtle way of asking for affection, you could've just asked. I never turn down an opportunity to attend to you in the bedroom."

Theresa's cheeks flushed, and she tried to hide her smile behind a hand, looking away. "You shameless lech, always luring me to your bed or stealing into mine when I'm at my most vulnerable."

Jacob chuckled. "As if you actually refused me once," He replied, his voice low and inviting.

Kal'tsit's gaze lingered on the pair for a moment before she spoke. "I will reschedule the meeting for tomorrow. Your Majesty could use a well-deserved rest after securing our relations with the Sanctuary." Her voice was firm, yet laced with a subtle undertone of concern.

Jacob closed his eyes briefly, a silent expression of gratitude for Kal'tsit's consideration. Her decision was unexpected, but welcomed nonetheless.

Theresa's eyes lit up with a playful glint. "Really? Thank you, but I can still handle one more meeting before bed, honest."

Kal'tsit shook her head gently. "Theresa..." She used the King's name, further emphasizing her words, "...you've been working tirelessly lately, perhaps more so than usual. Despite Jacob's efforts to alleviate your burden, you continue to push yourself, which, in turn, forces him to match your pace. Jacob may be a Feranmut, blessed with the infinity his status implies, but that doesn't mean he is completely safe from factors outside his direct control and influence. Eventually, when something unexpected strikes and he did not anticipate it, he'll either slow down at best or halt completely at worst. And that can happen anytime."

Kal'tsit paused, taking a deep breath, "Kazdel appreciates your efforts but your own well-being is priority number one and you're not obligated to torment yourself this far, even as the King. Given our current location and priorities, you have a unique opportunity to relax without interruption. Allow Jacob and me to handle everything in your stead. If not for yourself, or me, then at least do it for him."

A brief look of shock filled Theresa's visage as she turned to Jacob before it fell into guilt, especially regarding the mention of what he's doing in the background of her work. She knew that he is working tirelessly in his own side for Kazdel, but he never mentioned that he's also making it easier for her in hindsight. Not once. To think that the Black Crown never showed his turmoil at all, and the fact that it went this far...

Likely noticing the thoughts running through her head, Jacob moved closer to Theresa and leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. A gesture both comforting and hurtful.

If he had an opinion about being forced to match her pace and constantly ensure her convenience at the same time, the Black Crown didn't show it. There's only a selfless love in his heart, unapologetic and completely willing to do it again, which only troubled Theresa further.

"Take a break, Theresa." He whispered, his voice full of love and care, sincere and devoid of any begrudging sentiment. With that, he turned and stepped through the shimmering magic door, the sleeping Hanina cradled safely in his arms as the azure smoke swallowed their forms whole. The door to the room closed behind him with a punctuating thud, leaving Theresa alone with Kal'tsit.

Instead of heading to the comforts of her chambers, Theresa found herself drawn to the cold, unforgiving wall. Leaning against it, she wrung her ringed fingers before her navel, a nervous tic that Kal'tsit is very familiar with, her troubled gaze hidden behind the shadow of her brow. Her usual air of regal confidence was absent, replaced by a vulnerability rarely glimpsed.

Her voice, barely a whisper, carried a weight of insecurity. "Kal'tsit, do you think I'm fulfilling my role as his other half? His treasured partner? Am I providing the support he deserves for everything he's done as he does to me?"

Kal'tsit's expression remained impassive, pools of green remaining steady as they held the King in their gaze. "More than you realize. He's expressed feelings of inadequacy to me before, believing he doesn't deserve you."

Theresa's heart sank. She shook her head, her doubt evident. "It's the other way around. I'm the one who falls short. How can a Lord of Fiends that's struggling to unite the Sarkaz even be a suitable match for a God-king that could have accomplished so much and more than I would have if he wasn't burdened to pick up the pieces of my potential failures? The Royal Court grows increasingly resistant to my proposals, and I fear Theresis is on the brink of following suit. I suspect Jacob has been working tirelessly to sway their opinions, but what about the countless challenges he faced with more difficulty than that? And how much did he put on his plate because I could not produce results on my own, without his help?"

Kal'tsit's voice held a reassuring firmness. "His actions are born of his own volition, Theresa. His desire for a united Kazdel is as much his own as yours. Serving you is a means to that end, but it is not his sole motivation. In the 164 years since he was away while you ruled, his contributions to your reign were minimal, and you still managed to rebuild Kazdel back to its peak. That is a testament to your wondrous ability as a King. When Jacob returned to you, it merely empowered your ability to rule, and you made good use of it, as he wanted you to."

Moving closer, Kal'tsit placed a comforting hand on Theresa's arm. "Remember, you are not alone in this. Don't worry about Jacob too much. He's not without his own helping hand when you're unable to provide that for him. Despite how compromised my relationship with him is, I remain committed to the oath I swore. My loyalty to him is unwavering, and I will always be there to give him my all when he needs it, especially when he cradles the immature thought of not wanting to trouble his beloved with his problems even though it's one's right to hear them out."

Theresa's hand reached up and her grip tightened around Kal'tsit's hand as she met the Lynx's gaze, her heart growing warm and especially light upon hearing this.

After a moment of silence passed, Theresa spoke, "Kal'tsit, I have a question."

"Ask,"

Hesitation flickered in Theresa's eyes before she continued. "Do you...love my Jacob?"

"I do." Kal'tsit's response was immediate, as clinical as a medical diagnosis when the patient asked for it. "Due to our own nature, our relationship actively defies human categorization, but the closest approximation of relatable comprehension in regards to the sentiment I have for him is indeed Love. So yes, I do love him. Why do you ask?"

A brief, almost mirthless chuckle escaped Theresa's lips. "I was merely contemplating a radical solution. Perhaps making you Jacob's second wife would alleviate so much of my concerns and simplify so many matters."

Kal'tsit's expression remained unchanged. "Such an arrangement would be impractical and counterproductive. I advise against it."

Theresa's giggle grew louder, "Don't be so reserved, Kal'tsit! I believe I could persuade Jacob to accept you if that's what you're concerned about. Just give me a chance to change his mind."

"Your Majesty..." Kal'tsit fell back to formality without the slightest change in her demeanor, "...levity is good for mental and emotional equilibrium in our circumstances but I strictly forbid jokes of this magnitude."

Theresa, undeterred, continued her playful banter with a bright smile. "Come now, Kal'tsit, how could Jacob not be delighted with two lovely girls hanging from both his arms and doting on him?"

Kal'tsit continued to be steady, "Your Majesty, you've seen my past as well as the history I shared with Jacob. He and I have already marri-"

Her words were cut short by the abrupt opening of the magic door. Jacob emerged, his face contorted in irritation as he swatted away lingering strands of incense.

His gaze fell upon Theresa, who was still lingering in the hallway instead of retreating to her room. "Are you planning a slumber party here or something? Why aren't you in bed by now?" He inquired, mildly exasperated.

Theresa turned to Kal'tsit, who met her gaze with an impassive expression.

Turning back to Jacob, Theresa seized the opportunity to add to the theatrics. With a dramatic flourish, she collapsed to the floor, clutching her chest in mock agony. "Oh dear~! My legs have betrayed me~! How could this be~? Surely it's not my dear Jacob's neglect that has caused this terrible affliction~?"

Jacob's expression remained impassive, cross-armed, mirroring Kal'tsit's composure. A paragon of long-suffering patience. "Shall I carry you to bed, my love?" He offered with mock sympathy.

Theresa's playful demeanor faltered slightly as she realized her plan had backfired, him playing along proving to be a lot more awkward than his exasperation. Yet, she pressed on to save face, her voice filled with feigned helplessness. "Oh, please do! A King's retainer must always attend to his monarch's every whim! I demand an atonement from you, my dear Samaritan! A tight tuck in under my blanket! A loving kiss on my forehead! And a sweet narration of the grandest tales that hailed from your adventures in the years you were not by my side!"

Jacob's huffed as he looked down, lips curved into a subtle smile as he reached out with his tail, coiling it deftly around Theresa's legs before scooping her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Theresa turned her attention to Kal'tsit, going for more, "And you, my dear advisor, must join us. I cannot possibly drift off to sleep without a soothing lullaby from you."

Kal'tsit continued to maintain the grace of a stoic statue, replying flatly, "You'll find me lacking in my vocal finesse. Jacob's own are beautiful by comparison."

Theresa's dramatic flair intensified. "Do not deny me this pleasure, Kal'tsit! I am the King of Kazdel, and I demand satisfaction as well as your obedience!"

"Finally deciding to assert your authority for once, Your Majest-"

Kal'tsit fell silent as Jacob's tail left Theresa's legs in blinding speeds and darted towards her, slickly wrapping around her wrist, locking in firmly and yanking her. She slightly stumbled as she's dragged along.

The Lynx sighed in resignation to her fall from grace, relenting to Theresa's authority for once. "I shall deign to offer one verse for you, Your Majesty."

"Yay~!" And Theresa returned to embracing Jacob's neck, resting her head on his shoulders.

The journey to her quarters was leisurely and without any hurry, the gentle and rhythmic rocking of her body in Jacob's arms nearly lulling her to sleep.

But Theresa's mind ran, keeping her out of it. She suspected it. Or rather, she knew. Jacob definitely saw this interaction coming. Perhaps he even predicted the collapse of her confidence and her doubts growing earlier, knowing every word and thought that followed between her and Kal'tsit. The fact that he didn't even react to Kal'tsit bringing it up and even leaving her be just to process it is very telling. For all the time she knew Jacob, it's just too farfetched to even assume that he didn't.

Almost all the time, Theresa greatly wondered how he could make anyone's personal agency untouched even if he told them, or how he perfectly convinces her and everyone else like he knew nothing at all. She has the Black Crown, sure, but it's merely a look into the person's thoughts, not their next action. Jacob's reach is much more advanced.

More than that, however, she wanted to know how she can make him feel appreciated and supported with something other than words. The fact that he's been clearing her road of all the caltrops and rocks in the way just so she can have a smooth passage still stings her heart, especially if she's just realizing this now and he never brought any attention to it.

As much as she'd like to tell him that he doesn't need to, there's nothing stopping him from doing so anyway. He's just that kind and, like he said before, 'wealthy' enough to do it in the first place.

But for now, this felt like the only solution she has for now. Burdening him with her neediness sounds like the most merciful thing she can do, and she's okay with that.