Planet Tatamis, Goa'uld Territory

Captain Britay Pov

The chief was arguing with the heir and his friend about the gate: whether to explore the other side or not. He doesn't want to risk that the atmospheric or gravitational conditions on the other planet might differ from ours, like a colder or hotter climate, whether it be a forest, jungle, or desert. The gate ensures that each planet's conditions are suitable for life and, I believe, also eliminates any diseases trying to pass through it.

"Chief, I think I might have a possible solution to your problem, if I may."

The three of them stopped conversing as the chief approached us, contemplating the situation and the proposal I just made.

"Captain, I'm listening."

With a simple hand gesture, he signaled that I was free to present my idea or plan for his consideration. Despite having all the education, wealth, and demeanor to be a lord—if such a title could be used—he doesn't identify as one due to the serpents in his jealousy, madness, and megalomania, which prevent anyone from identifying as such unless they are part of the so-called gods' race. In my humble opinion, the chief embodies everything a great lord should be.

"Two of my men and I can explore the other side near the gate, see if it's a place we've visited before or a new one, and then return to report."

Husil of Tatami's narrowed eyes indicated he was carefully considering his captain's plan. This wasn't anything extraordinary; it was the most basic tactic used by travelers to minimize risks. But this was precisely why he didn't like it, as the volunteers must project the least threatening image possible, discarding armor and weapons like swords and spears due to the chance of encountering Jaffa guards trained to shoot first and ask questions never. Beggars can't be choosers, though.

"Alright, I think it's a plan I have no issues with. But, Captain, at the first sign of danger, I want you to prioritize your and your men's safety in the best way possible."

I made a slight bow, barely noticeable, indicating I understood the orders and proceeded to call the two guards I had in mind. Good lads; I trained them myself. I motioned for them to approach and explained our mission. Once done, we prepared for the exploration and reconnaissance mission through the gate, leaving behind armor, helmets, swords, and spears, taking only a medium knife sheathed at our waists.

"Chief, we're ready."

"May Ra's eternal light guide your way. Good luck, Captain."

With no further ceremony, I signaled my companions to follow me to the gate and the event horizon. Without further ado, we crossed. There's a belief that traveling through the gate is a kind of religious experience, that one must cross a spiritual plane to go from one planet to another. I regret to say it's nonsense. One moment you're at your starting point and the next at your destination, in a fraction of a moment, a sigh in the infinite river that is time.

Westeros, the North

Once on the other side, it was obvious the gate was buried. There was dust in the closed atmosphere of the artificial cave. Due to its nearly perfect circular shape, the smooth surface exuded water vapor from the heat produced by the plasma geyser, which must have caused the water between the stones to overheat, reaching an instant boiling point, causing an explosion due to the pressure from the violent temperature change, sending the vapor shooting out along with everything in its path.

"Jaxi, Bratt, come here. Here's what we're going to do. It's quite clear the gate was buried. This usually means two things: first, the planet's inhabitants successfully rebelled; or second, the gate is so ancient that the planet's movement buried it."

While briefing my subordinates about the situation, I noticed the temperature starting to drop abruptly. The vapor cooled enough to return to liquid water, accumulating on the cave's circular floor, and a light was visible at the cave's end, indicating a possible exit. At the same time, I noticed my companions having trouble understanding the second part of my explanation, so I elaborated more clearly.

"Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, or floods—those sorts of things are major reasons why gates stop functioning, only to resume a decade or century later."

I saw understanding in my subordinates' eyes and body language, indicating they comprehended my explanation.

"Good, find the pedestal."

It only took a couple of steps to find it partially buried to the left of the gate, just in time as the gate shut down, thirty-eight minutes after its activation. The pedestal seemed functional at first glance, despite a couple of buttons being buried, but nothing a few knives or a small shovel couldn't clear. But before we could inspect it further, a loud voice interrupted us.

"HEY, ARE YOU OKAY? CAN YOU UNDERSTAND US? WE WANT TO PARLEY!"

We all stopped and looked in the voice's direction, finding a couple of young men at the now clearer cave exit, no more than a couple of feet long. The language they used to get our attention was clearly not Goa'uld, but fortunately, it sounded familiar to the language Olaf speaks, which I have a decent grasp of thanks to many shared mead around a campfire on cold winter nights in Tatamis.

"Alright, listen up. We're going to approach them slowly and without sudden movements, with our hands clearly visible, okay?"

"As you command, Captain."

With this, we approached the cave exit, and I could see the two more clearly in the clearing; there was a two to three-year age difference between them. The younger one had long black hair like the night, skin white as milk, and piercing steel-colored eyes in an elongated yet delicate face, making him handsome despite the contradictions. He was average height for his apparent age, and his companion was clearly shielding him. Most likely related to rank, perhaps servant and master, heir, or brother and bodyguard. The companion had a similar skin tone and hair color but dull light brown eyes. There was a clear intensity in them. His face was more square than long, with a strong jaw bearing a budding beard. No one would call him unattractive, but no one would call him handsome either; they'd say he had a masculine face.

Once we reached the cave's foot, the older one stepped back to create space between us and them. Once face to face, we stared for a moment before the older one, more specifically, spoke first.

"Hello, can you understand us?"

The younger one, the protected, disciple, or burden, looked at him as if unsure if his opening words were the most foolish or wise thing they could have said.

"Yes, I can. Your language is quite similar to High Gothic, which an ally of mine speaks as their native tongue. But where are my manners? My name is Britay, Captain of Husil of Tatami's guard, and these two are my men, Jaxi and Bratt. It's an honor to meet you."

"Your accent is strange," the younger one muttered aloud, causing the older one to elbow him in the stomach, as if scolding a child, which earned him an annoyed look despite clearly being careful not to mutter again.

"Likewise, we apologize for our rudeness. My name is Owen, and my companion here is Jon."

It was clear they didn't want to reveal more than necessary in this conversation, which makes sense if this was their first time seeing a gate without any knowledge of it or how it works.

"Well, if it's not too much trouble, could you explain where you come from and what that thing is?" Owen asked. It was clear this whole situation was foreign to them; despite their calm demeanor, their muscles were tense, like predators ready to pounce at any moment. It's commendable they haven't shown us any disrespect given the abnormality of the situation.

"Well, it's a long explanation, but I suppose we have time."

With that, we launched into a long conversation about the gate, what it is, and how it works. Some might consider sharing this kind of intelligence foolish, but we need to use it to return, and it's better they know it's not dangerous and that someone expects us back within a set time frame and will come looking for us if we don't return on schedule. Additionally, we spent a long, tedious part of the conversation convincing Jon and Owen that we didn't come from Essos, the Summer Isles, or a place called Yi Ti, nor that by Ra, we were some sort of eunuch soldiers.

"That's… by the old gods, I don't know what to say."

I can't say I don't understand their feelings. I still remember seeing it for the first time as a child; it's something one doesn't easily forget. The amazement is even harder to shake off.

Throughout the conversation, I noticed the temperature was clearly wintery, and unlike the two young men, we were underdressed for this climate. They wore cloaks, wool, and leather tunics, pants, leather boots, and cloaks lined with fur, all of decent quality. They also had steel, bronze, and, as I saw, steel swords and knives. The chief will be interested in this; there might be gold on the table.

"Help us unearth the pedestal, and we can show you."

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Owen, of course it's a good idea; I want to see it. We'll help, Britay."

With that, young Jon, eager to see a Stargate in action for the first time, enthusiastically headed back to the cave to help my men, despite the cautious Owen, now almost certainly his bodyguard, whether temporary or permanent, as it

Was clear Jon was neither peasant nor merchant's son. There's a way of moving, acting, that's quite obvious if one knows how to recognize the signs. Maybe a prince or perhaps a spare.

"Jon, JON."

"Young Owen, sometimes it's better to go with the flow than against it."

A sigh of resignation escaped from the now slumped-shouldered Owen as he followed me into the cave to prepare for our return to the chief.

Despite the time and conditions we found it in, the pedestal was in perfect working condition. These things were eternal; I guess that's naquadah for you, the stuff lasts forever. After about half an hour, we were nearly ready when, in the distance, on the path connecting the clearing to the mountain, we heard the hurried steps of perhaps twenty to thirty men descending the path until a deep, masculine voice cut through the silence.

"JON, JOOOOON, ARE YOU THERE? ANSWER ME."

The expression on the two young men's faces vividly reminded me of the look I had when my parents gave me a task, and I failed spectacularly due to very important matters, if we're going with that.

"Ned, look at that cave; maybe he's there."

It was clear they were already in the clearing when a tall man, clearly a warrior with a physical appearance that indicated a relationship with young Jon, appeared with a sword in hand. If you can call that instrument of death a sword, by Ra, how can he lift that thing with one hand, and what on earth does he use it for? To kill horses and riders alike? Wait, what are those veins on the sword? It's made of a trinium-steel alloy.

"Father, I can explain."

Ah, here it is. I'm not sure how to handle this situation. By the man's face, he's ready to use that thing, and then Ra can sort us out in the afterlife, so I made the most harmless gesture as slowly as possible: a bow.

"My lord."

Apparently, this worked. The man seemed to calm down. Let's see if we can get out of this in one piece.

Author's Note: I edited the first two chapters. I hope they are more readable now. With the first contact made, we can get the ball rolling.