The two days it took to reach the meeting grounds were tense. Not that it impacted the clansfolk. While Martin and the Laskarian – he still hadn't learned her name and had no intention of doing so – had been provided food, there had been no other contact. Without Vorash and his insight into the local culture, Martin might have suspected he was walking into an ambush. But he understood it to be the accepted method of treating someone of undetermined status.

It was more honest than a lot of places he'd visited.

When the Meeting Grounds came into range of his senses, Martin immediately scanned the entire location for magic, and used his connection to the earth to get an understanding of how the place was constructed.

It was like looking at the skeleton of a city. Dirt paths radiated out in spokes from one of the few permanent buildings towards the center. Stone dwellings popped up here and there, a series of wells were scattered throughout, but beyond that, open yards, with only the faint impressions of past habitation filled the area.

A deeper probe confirmed his first impression. There was no established Core. Just like the first village where Keila and Vorash had been left to keep an eye on things. But after over a week in the region, Martin was getting suspicious. The mana flows were too…something. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the mana here wasn't like anywhere else he'd traveled. If it wasn't an effect generated by a Core, something else was going on.

More important than the architecture, or lack thereof, there were a few scores of people spread around the area. Some appeared to be simply going about their lives, but the largest clump was clustered inside what could only be the meeting hall for the clans.

There were 28 people, all cultivators. Half of which were on the level of the Laskarian with him. Not a master, lacking the insight needed, but powerful experts. Far more than the usual chaff he found amongst the modern populace.

No one needed instructions to join the gathering. Pushing through a cloud of sweet-smelling candle smoke, Martin was able to take in the scene at a glance. The building was sparse but functional. A few decorations lined the walls. Each was unique. The first was a wind-carved piece of wood, with a white design painted across it. Another a tapestry woven of long grasses. A third was a piece of stone so thin, it could almost be used as paper, with a design carved into negative space. And another 11 lining the walls. One for each clan then.

Sitting at a long table were thirteen of the cultivators. Each reminded him of Farin. Solid, dependable, dangerous when challenged.

Breva wasted no time with introductions and took her own seat. The other clansmen drifted off to the side, where a clump of cultivators were standing and murmuring amongst themselves. The Laskarian bolted straight towards a smaller group. Dressed almost identically, it was obvious they were her companions.

Martin stood alone.

They stood around for most of an hour, before another group entered. This trio had no foreign cultivators with them, just three of the strongest clansfolk Martin had yet come across. Their leader prowled to the final chair at the table and sat in front of a fire-blackened panel of wood, An abstract raven carved into the ash.

"The call has been heard and answered. Let's begin." It was an older man, gray hair creeping in at the temples, but still thick with muscle across the chest and shoulders that spoke first. "Strangers approached us two weeks ago as we worked our herds towards the spring grazing lands. They told us great tales of danger fomenting in Merista, and asked for our assistance in keeping it at bay. In return they promise riches and magic more than we could ever imagine."

The words were serious, but a subtle gleam glinted in the man's eye. These people would not be so easily swayed.

Another leader stood. The slight woman didn't look older than 20, but everyone around the table showed her the same respect as the previous speaker when she stood. "Our story is much the same. Except instead of meeting the clan at the grazing lands, we came upon the stranger arguing with an outrider returning from a scouting mission. We believed violence would have occurred had our entire party not arrived.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Later, we learned they had similar stories. The Naxians to the south were not to be trusted. We were asked to spy for these strangers, again with the promise of great rewards."

Around the table it went. He mostly tuned out the stories, they were all the same at the base level. Instead he observed the clansfolk. As a group they would make excellent gamblers. But even through the facade, he could pick up on their reactions.

Most were neutral. Perhaps telling, those were mostly the clan leaders that had been on the receiving ends of the visits. The Laskarians had not made a great showing of themselves. A few were eager. It was in the way they leaned forward, the way their eyes glazed over at the details of treasures the Laskarians offered to heap upon them.

Martin tried not to blame them too harshly. Tried, but only partially succeeded. Wealth was a heady thing when you didn't have it. Security for oneself and the future generations were possible with the items on offer. Or a straight shot to ascension and the wider cosmos, if it was hoarded by one person.

The remaining two were holding back a simmering rage. The Raven, as Martin had started thinking of the final member of the council, and the young woman whose scout had almost been attacked. Contempt dripped off the Raven as he listened to each tale.

Perhaps because they arrived last, or perhaps the order was chosen some other way, Breva was the final clan leader to speak.

"Like all of you, we were approached some days ago by one of the Laskarian witches, with portents of doom and promises of riches both. Our story has another chapter."

She gestured at Martin, and he smiled and waved to the table. May as well aim for friendly if they were going to be talking about him.

"Another guest appeared several days later. His story is similar, except he claims it is the witches from Laskar that are dangerous, and it is those in Merista, Naxos, Somorin, and others that are standing against the threat."

Breva returned to her seat. There were a few moments of silence, something he was beginning to understand must matter deeply to the clansfolk.

To the side, the Laskarians shuffled back and forth, whispering to each other about whether or not to speak up.

The folly of youth and the disdain of empire. The clans were not going to be led around by an outsider, whoever spoke first of the foreigners was liable to be the first asked to leave.

Martin spent the time keeping his smile natural and sizing up the competition. All six were at the expert level. For the modern world, that meant they would be at the peak of what cultivators had been capable of. If they were smart, then like Theresa and the rest of the Indell coven, the last years would have been spent building on that power as the world bloomed back into a full mana cycle.

The locals were more of a mix. A few, like the first speaker and the Raven, were on a level with the Laskarians. The rest were weaker, ranging from novice to adept.

Aspects were the normal mix. Lots of standard elements, with some more esoteric options mixed in. The youngest speaker, who was glaring at the Laskarians across the room, had some sort of bonding-based aspect. Family? Emotion? He couldn't quite tell, but he could only imagine the questions Adam would have if he was here.

That thought almost threatened his smile, though he held it in place through sheer willpower. Adam would be fascinated by whatever was going on with the mana. Martin would need to make sure he took notes so he had something to give to his lover on his return.

It was the Raven who broke the silence. "Liars all. Bring them to the border and leave them there."

Not the best start. But not the worst either. A memory flashed in front of his eyes then, from his old life. In his late forties, just minted as an expert, he and his friends were sent on a diplomatic mission to Churcan. They made it back to the sect two fires, three building collapses, and one jailbreak later. The clansfolk were being quite courteous in comparison.

"Now, now, let's not be hasty." The man speaking was in front of a fur pelt, a complex knot shaved into the hide. "Both promise advantages for the clans. Why should we pass such a thing up? The world has changed, we should embrace some of the advantages."

"Gunar is right," the first speaker said, "in content if not in motivation." The older man sent a sharp look at Gunar, who glanced away first. "The world has changed. In ages past, when the settled nations went to war, it was nothing to us. Now two come begging for aid. There will be no options to stay out of it when the violence breaks out."

"If violence is inevitable, why are we even bothering!" The young woman was on her feet with the exclamation. She slashed her hand at the clump of Laskarians, as though miming a knife strike. "They were going to kill Bitok! I say we send a message. Leave them for the crows."

"And when the next come? And the ones after that? The Empire is vast and the world even larger. One decisive act will not be enough."

"So that's it?" The new speaker was fully cloaked, with a cowl pulled low over their face. Behind their chair was a mosaic of shells, arranged in a swirl that reminded Martin of a whirlpool. They represented one of the clans that hadn't been visited. "We choose a side or fall into ruin?"

"I do not like it, but I believe so."

Martin couldn't quite puzzle out the dynamic. From everything he'd seen and read, none of the clan leaders were above any of the others. Despite that, the whole group seemed willing to acquiesce to the older man. Except for the Raven and the fiery young adept who felt so offended.

"Breva, you are the only one approached by both sides of the coming conflict. What say you? Can either be trusted?"

The room waited with bated breath for a response; the Laskarians fidgeted, the clansfolk with supreme patience, Martin sat annoyed, but faking equanimity.

"I do not know. I want to believe our neighbors are able to be trusted. I cannot tell if this colors my views."

"Then let's make them prove it," the Raven spoke up. "Surely they weren't sent with only their words to convince us. Let them bring forth their offerings and we can decide."

All eyes turned to the foreigners. Martin hadn't brought bribes, what research he'd been able to do on the clans suggested such a thing wouldn't help him. He would have to hope that the truth would be convincing enough on its own.

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