“Dè a tha thu airson a dhèanamh rinn?” Kneeling on the floor with his hands and legs tied together, the eldest of the bird people asked.

After the forest terrors were pushed back and his people were captured by the grey clothed warriors, he was dragged into a newly erected tent with what seemed to be the warriors’ leaders.

His greying feathers ruffled when he was forced on the ground in front of what seemed to be the warriors’ chief.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to understand what you’re saying.” Lev replied, standing in front of the old man with his glaive in his hand.

“Dè tha thu ag iarraidh leinn!?” The old man yelled, thrashing against the ropes, stumbling whilst attempting to get up.

The old man couldn’t maintain his balance and fell, his mask was about to hit the floor was it not for Lev.

Lev grabbed him and made him sit back down.

The old man shook his body, trying to free himself from Lev’s grasp, until his captor’s words. “The city. Do you want to go back to the city?”

“Ta Citee. Am Baile mòr.”

“Baile mòr?” Lev asked.

“Ta citee. Am Baile mòr! A bheil an criostal sàbhailte?”

With furrowed brows, Lev contemplated what the old man said but he couldn’t make sense of the bird man’s language.

Lev looked into the man’s eyes and slowly uttered. “I can’t understand you.”

Both looked each other in the eyes and the old man slowly shook his arms. “Leig às mo ghàirdeanan.”

“leig… let? Let go of your arms?” Lev asked while parting his arms away.

The old man nodded and Lev hummed in thought.

Lev eventually called for two guards to enter and ordered one of them to untie the old man.

The old man opened his palm and croaked. “Maide. Thoir dhomh maide.”

Lev exchanged a look with the guards but no one answered. No one except a green bogey who entered the tent.

“I’m assuming he’s asking for a stick. It should’ve been obvious.” Orva grumbled.

Turning around, Lev nodded. “Since you’re here, it seems you’ve handled the situation outside.”

Orva grinned. “The scouts confirmed it. No more of those things will show up any time soon and the ones that already did were zapped to death.”

“Excellent. Now, can you help me translate what he’s saying?”

“I’m not much of an expert, Lev. There’s so much you can learn of a language from writing.”

“And now you have a partner to help you with it.” Smirking, Lev replied.

Orva rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s funny. Have you thought of quitting being a chief and becoming a fool? It would suit you.”

“Sure, once you quit being a shaman and become a general instead, I’ll do just that.”

The two of them stood there silently, not uttering a word, but then both of them laughed.

“It’s good that you’re in the mood for jokes, Lev. You were so tense when we started.”

Lev shrugged. “Considering my luck, I honestly expected something worse to happen. Nothing has been going right recently.”

“We’re not exactly in the safe just yet.”

With a glance towards their captive, Lev nodded. “I never said we were, but we did secure one of our main objectives for this journey.”

Eyeing the old bird, Orva replied. “I guess so. But will it be worth it?”

With a tap on his glaive, Lev replied. “Only time will tell, Orva. Only time will tell.”

A flutter caught their ear, it was the earlier guard pushing the tent’s flap with his shoulder, two wax boards and styluses in his arms.”

“well done.” Lev praised the man before grabbing the items from his hands and giving a set to the old man.

Lev drew both of the outer shape of the hall where he got his glaive from and the orb on the wax board.

He showed the old man the board, and was elated when he saw the man’s wide eyes. He caught him where he wanted him.

“Am baile-mòr agus an criostal; mar sin thàinig thu bhon bhaile mhòr againn!!”

Lev turned towards his compatriot. “Orva?”

With furrowed brows and her staff slightly twirling, Orva nodded. “He realized we came from the city. I didn’t get all of it, but I think I can manage.”

“That’s all I ask. As long as we can finally make some progress.” Turning his gaze back at the old man, Lev replied.

“Now tell me, do you and your people want to go back home?” With a sparkle in his eyes, Lev asked the old man with Orva slowly translated his words.

For a while the old man stayed silent, not uttering a single reply.

Weird. Did Orva make a mistake?

“Don’t look at me like that, the issue isn’t from me.” With a frown, Orva replied.

“Are you sure?” Lev asked, causing Orva to snort in offence.

“Who do you think I am? I spent ten months meticulously studying their made up language! I won’t fool myself into thinking I’m fluent but I’m sure that I’m good enough to translate this conservation.”

“Made up?”

“Yes and no. Taking some of the knowledge Ainshart recorded in his libraries including languages from his old world, some of his followers used it as a joke. They didn’t treat the non-goblinoid races kindly and they made an exhibit out of the natives. So why not teach them some humorous jargon that would make them more exotic?”

That’s just wrong on so many levels. Flowing with waves of surprise and disgust, Gherm thought to Lev.

Every society had its deviants, master. And more so its fools. The glaive added.

Before Gherm could ask what she meant, Lev chuckled. “They really were fools. They gave future rebels a way to communicate.”

Orva shrugged. “That’s possible I guess? The records, at least the ones that remained, didn’t mention anything about rebellions.”

It is likely to keep the image that all is well and the empire is strong. Lev thought.

The empire was always strong. The glaive commented, indignation filling her tone.

Sure, that must be why it collapsed. Gherm retorted.

Lev couldn’t help but smirk whilst Gherm hid himself in the recesses of Lev’s mind, avoiding the glaive’s wrath.