As Hoplite, Lance, and Michael all passed through the winding forest of the Bastion, Hoplite came to the realization that this forest was more like a city than he had previously observed. Many of the trees they passed were occupied by elves, the trees having been fitted with doors and windows. When these doors and windows were left ajar, Hoplite could see that the interiors of these trees had been hollowed out for living space. Many of the elves who lived in these trees were out and about, seemingly wandering the forest blindly at first glance. Elves of all ages passed through the Bastion, from elders with crow's feet just beginning to show, to pointy-eared toddlers that stared in wonder at Hoplite as the group continued toward the Ilum tree.

Then there were sections that were completely unlike a forest at all. There were several clearings within the Bastion, wide flat tracts of land bare of any trees. They were spread out through this forest much like pockets of air in a sea, random in spacing and size. Though not all were empty; for every clearing that was an empty field, there was one that was dedicated to some kind of production or recreation. Many of the recreational areas looked dedicated to some kind of sport if they didn’t simply appear to be a sort of park. One which stuck out to Hoplite was the clearing with massive bricked-off sandboxes, each several yards wide. Each was filled with white grains of sand that seemed to reflect the sun like glass. Indeed, Hoplite had thought it was glass until Michael took it upon himself to go and touch the strange substance. When it had gave beneath his finger Michael had appeared mystified. Apparently, these sands were from the lands to the far north, and the elves used these boxes to play a sport known as ‘sandstick’.

Why it was called sandstick Hoplite had no idea, for there were no sticks in or near the sandpits.

Besides the recreational zones were clearings that looked to be used for industry and commerce. Some looked like trade-hubs and marketplaces, the stalls un-manned but displaying whatever they would have been selling that day. Others were blacksmith shops, potters, tailors, and everything in between. These businesses were all contained in buildings of gray stone bricks, as opposed to wood. Strange, the elves seemed to prefer living in trees, but they didn’t want to use wood as a building material? Then again, the trees the elves lived in seemed undamaged by their residents, aside from the internal carving that was… was every tree in the Bastion a house? Are these trees the same moving ones he had seen before? The elves must not want to harm those creatures to build homes… but then why would such animals be content with letting the elves live within them? They had to have been domesticated somehow…

Besides his musings on the trees however, something more prevalent stuck out to him.

The text that advertised the products being sold in the market zones was all in written Jynesian…Perfect Jynesian. Written Jynesian was a long, interconnecting script that flowed like a river from left to right, the flow occasionally broken by jagged and sharp characters like treacherous rocks in a stormy sea. Each sentence ended in a long vertical wall of ink, like a dam to stop the flow of the water. That was what Hoplite’s education supervisor had taught him, and these signs all were written in the same fashion. Though here on Ahkoolis, it was called Saiharan, not Jynesian.

Hoplite believed that someone from Terna had been to Ahkoolis before, and had somehow managed to make Jynesian the common language among the people here. There had to be some sort of historical figure mentioned to have penned Jynesian in Ahkoolis’s history somewhere…

If he could get the time, maybe Hoplite could read up on the history of Saiharan as a language? He didn’t know where he would obtain such knowledge however, so perhaps it would be best to simply consult the locals. Not that he would stop to question people now of course, even if he did, he would have to search for anyone to actually speak to. Hoplite took note of the lack of people in these clearings. Barely any elves worked the smiths or sold out of stalls, and no elves could be seen in the recreational zones.

Lance had commented during the trip that the Bastion seemed empty compared to how it normally was. Tuji had inflicted a terrible death toll upon the watchers; it was so significant that there would likely be death celebrations being held by the families and friends of those who were deceased throughout the whole Bastion. Apparently, it was terribly taboo to deny attending such an event unless the denial was for a good reason.

According to Lance, these celebrations wouldn’t all be held at the foot of the Ilum tree, many elves preferred their bodies be ‘returned to the roots’ of the tree that housed them. Others that didn’t want their bodies to feed a tree were instead buried conventionally, in a coffin. This was rare however, for the wood had to be imported from other lands. Elves hardly ever used wood from their own forest for any kind of crafting, unless the tree ‘gave consent’. How a tree could give consent to being carved up Hoplite didn’t know.

Eventually, they finally broke the treeline to come into the field of roots surrounding the Ilum tree. It hadn’t changed much from when Hoplite had seen it last, the massive roots snaking around the wide open field like firm tendrils from the Ilum tree. Some were thick and as tall as a building, while others were only at height with Hoplite. Wide spaces separated the largest roots, these spaces being completely devoid of any plant life. The loose dark soil between these roots looked incredibly damp, and was nearly as black as pitch.

Though the darkness of the soil could be attributed to the massive shadow being cast on this side of the Ilum tree by the sun. Hoplite craned his head upwards to observe the towering creature with his main camera, seeing that the sun had been completely eclipsed behind its high leaves and thick trunk. The light of the sun warped around the top of the Ilum, like a brilliant halo of light. It was… magnificent. Truly though, it was much the same as it had been the last time he had approached it.

The difference now was all the elves that were now present.

Along seemingly every individual root, a family of elves hosted gatherings, several small holes having been carved out of the roots. Bodies had been shoved into the holes in the roots he was sure, for he saw a body of a watcher, bare to the skin being placed gently by two veiled elves into an opening. The veiled elves then sealed the hole by moving the hunk that Hoplite assumed they had carved out of it back in place.

Returning them to the roots. Why was it called that? According to the Harkmother and Lance, all living things on Ahkoolis were formed from the infinite blood of the Pillar-God of Might: Zodd. Why would they be returning to roots if they had never been born of them in the first place? Hoplite assumed that elves had reproduced in the same manner as humans, given the obvious similarities in biology the two species shared.

Perhaps though… if all living things were of the blood of Zodd, didn’t that include the plant life? So it could be that elves did come out of tree roots somehow at birth, and then could be returned to the roots at their death.

That was the dumbest guess he may have ever had since arriving on Ahkoolis. Elves were humanoid bipeds! They clearly were not related to these strange moving trees, how could he have ever entertained such a ridiculous thought? Hoplite felt embarrassed that the idea had crossed his mind. It was far more likely that it was a cultural matter, all life comes from dust and whatnot, so to dust life will return. The elves likely followed a philosophy more similar to that.

Still… just to make certain… should he ask anyway? If the matter of elven reproduction somehow became a topic at this party, would the elves be offended by Hoplite’s ignorance? Hoplite normally would not have cared, but this was a mostly unknown culture to him… what if there were severe consequences for social missteps? Consequences that would impact Lance true, not himself. Yet he found that he did not want her to be punished for his mistakes, if any were to be made. He would ask about reproduction to be safe, and then ask Lance if there were any taboo’s to be avoided before heading down to the objective.

Hoplite was still certain that they went about breeding in the standard fashion, but it was best to attain this kind of intel from a local who knew for sure.

“Lance,” Hoplite began in a monotone “How do elves reproduce?”

Lance stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him with her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Her face reddened for a moment before she shook her head, taking a deep breath and staring evenly at Hoplite.

“If this is your first attempt at a joke, I’ll let you know it really wasn’t all that funny.” Lance said flatly.

A joke? How had Lance interpreted that as a joke? Hoplite had never made a joke once in his entire life. Had he made one by accident? It had just been a seemingly innocent question. This must have meant that elves really did conduct intercourse the same as humans did. Lance knew that Hoplite was an outworlder, so if he got this kind of reaction from her after asking… Well, that could only mean the answer was what he assumed. Unless… unless Lance perhaps forgot about the implications of his origins in that moment? Could it be that her reaction lacked critical thinking? Hoplite needed assistance here.

Hoplite turned to Michael, who had stopped several paces behind them to stare in wonder at the looming Ilum tree above. It took the marine a full three seconds before his eyes found Hoplite's helmet. Michael blinked and looked to Lance, and then to Hoplite.

“Sorry what?” Michael asked “I was just… wow, that thing is friggin’ huge. I knew it was big n’ all, saw it the whole walk, but it’s somethin’ else seeing it this close.”

Hoplite wouldn’t get any help from Michael right now, the marine hadn’t been listening to his and Lance's conversation. Hoplite would simply have to take control of the situation, he still needed to know for certain about this topic before going down to the funeral celebration, just in case he would need to know.

“I’m not joking.” Hoplite said, once again in his usual monotone “If you’re returned to the roots, does that mean you’re born from the trees? Or does your species follow the standard human template for intercourse?”

Lance sputtered as she tried to speak, and Michael hid his face beneath a hand. Hoplite heard some kind of sound trying to escape Michael's lips… was he snickering? Lance shook her head again and covered her mouth with a hand, ducking her head down to avoid looking at Hoplite. He was already sure that elves and humans reproduced in the same manner, all he had wanted was confirmation from Lance. Why was this causing such a reaction? It was just reproduction, how was that in any way comical?

“W-we aren’t born from trees, Hoplite.” Lance said with a stutter “Please, do not ask questions like this at Muro’s party, I may die if you do.”

Hoplite’s eyes widened slightly. Lance would be killed if he asked about elven reproduction at the funeral party? Another cultural strangeness he didn’t understand. What else could he not mention for fear of Lance being executed? No matter, even if he did accidentally commit a taboo, he would not let Lance be killed by her own people for such a thing.

“I will not allow you to be killed.” Hoplite replied with a firm nod “It isn’t right for someone to be put to death just for talking about intercourse.”

He had thought that would have put her at ease, but Lance only buried her face in both hands as Michael let out a bellowing laugh.

“Sir, I think she meant socially she’d die.” Michael said, his laugh trailing off as he wiped a tear from his eye.

Hoplite felt… uncertain of how to proceed. He felt that strange sensation again… the same feeling as when Michael had told Hoplite that there were action figures of himself.

He felt embarrassed. It was a horrid, alien feeling, one that he wasn’t quite sure how to suppress. Hoplite felt strangely thankful for his helmet, not wanting either Lance or Michael to see his face.

“If you must know Hoplite,” Lance said with a suffering sigh, her voice somewhat muffled by her hands “We… we go about it the same way humans do.”

“...Affirmative.” Hoplite replied after a moment.

Michael then burst out laughing again, bowling over and clutching his stomach as if he had been gutshot. Soon, the embarrassment Hoplite had felt turned to irritation as Michael’s laugh echoed seemingly all throughout the valley of roots. Elves around different roots all turned to look at the source of the echoing laugh, seeing Michael, Lance, and Hoplite all standing right at the treeline. It would have been impossible for Michael or Lance to see the faces of the different groups of elves, but with Hoplite’s camera, he was capable of seeing the looks of confusion and irritation on their faces.

It was then that Hoplite noticed just how quiet the valley of roots had been since their arrival… wasn’t this supposed to be a party? Not that Hoplite had ever attended any sort of non-formal gathering, but he had walked in on a company of marines celebrating a recent victory once and the cacophony of drunken laughter Hoplite had heard that day was a far cry from the silence of these elves. Sheer complete lack of any noise, as if every creature in the valley had all dropped dead at once. Indeed, it could be considered almost deafeningly silent…

Besides Michael’s echoing laughter anyway. Laughter that echoed further and further throughout the valley with every expulsion of breath from Michael’s lungs. It echoed in Hoplites burning ears, and he grit his teeth in an attempt to quell the rage building within him. When Michael only continued his cacophonous laughter, Hoplite found that he could not contain himself any longer.

“Quit laughing private!” Hoplite snapped, causing the marine to instantly halt his snickering.

Michael’s face went white as a sheet as his eyes widened, looking almost as he had when Hoplite had retrieved him from the Fiendwall’s rubble for a brief instant.

“Sir yes sir!" Michael declared, becoming straight as a board and locking his arms at his sides "Will not happen again sir!"

Hoplite took a deep breath to help reign in his anger. Why had that irritated him so much? Hoplite would not have cared about something so trivial just a few days earlier… Hoplite had noticed that many of his emotions were beginning to break free from the clenched fist of his steel-hard discipline. He had been out of cryo for too long now… far too long.

He zoomed back in on the crowds of elves, seeing that they had returned to their own business, no longer looking toward the three newcomers. There had to be hundreds of elves in the root valley, all hosting their own individual ‘celebrations’. Thankfully, most of the elves would not have been able to see the three of them, either by way of distance or obstructed by roots.

When Lance finally lifted her head up from her hands, she let out a suffering sigh “Please, don’t ask about… inappropriate things like that at the party… or at least wait until everyone gets drunk first.” Lance said with a shake of her head “Hopefully everyone would forget about it by morning… and with how many elves are gathered around here now…” Lance said, motioning a hand over the tree-shadowed valley “With this many people gathered, there is bound to be some party crossovers… this will be a death-celebration to end the ages. There hasn’t been a gathering of elves celebrating deaths like this since the Akan-Dari Expansion war.” She continued, tilting her head back to look up at Hoplite, her face darkening as her voice took on a deadly serious tone “You must be ready. Normal humans do not have the capability to withstand such an event.”

Michael looked to Hoplite before back to Lance, not relaxing his posture an inch.

“Permission to speak sir?” Michael asked, his firm tone only shaken lightly by uneasiness.

“Granted.” Hoplite replied.

“Lance, this whole celebration thing ain’t gonna kill us alright?” Michael said assuringly “It ain’t nothin’ to worry about, look, y'all ain’t even doing nothin’ down there.”

Lance sighed, drawing her lips to a fine line before narrowing her eyes at Michael.

“Parties at the Ilum tree are… unique.” She said after a short pause “Just be ready,” She continued, a sly smile creeping onto her face “You’ll know when it happens.” She said, excitement creeping into her voice “You especially Hoplite, word has likely spread by now about you slaying the Pillar-Born… there’ll be a lot of partygoers that want to thank you and congratulate you… both for slaying a Pillar-Born, and avenging their kin.”

Hoplite and Michael both looked at one another, the marine’s brow furrowed. Hoplite knew exactly what Michael was worried about… something that Hoplite would need to negotiate with Lance, despite his hesitation to earlier.

They could not stay overnight, that was surely what Michael was concerned about.