Night has fallen, and the group has replaced fruit wine with warm tea. Mitsura snoozed in the living room, while Elisia, Layla and Tynaris still talked with the otherworlders. The two young women felt their heads throbbing, brains overloaded with information they received from the men sitting across from them.

Elisia found some of what she heard difficult, almost impossible to believe. The world they came from sounded like something born from the mind of a deranged artificer. Talk of buildings made from steel and glass that rose so high they pierced the clouds. Of machines that would put even the best dwarven mechanists to shame. Weapons capable of devastation on a scale that was unimaginable, weapons powered by tearing apart the very fabric of their world.

They spoke of mushrooms that could wipe cities from the map and the aura of death in the wake of such weapons, which would leave lands poisoned for decades. Elisia chuckled while they crudely and purposely vaguely explained the most devastating weapon ever conceived by the human mind, thinking the men were joking with them.

What fascinated her most was the discovery that they truly weren't a full military force, nor that they arrived as conquerors. "So, you're paid by a guild from your world to come here and acquire doramite and mana crystals?"

"Correct," Jeremy replied, leaning in his chair.

The fire softly crackled from the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. Marcel had his arms crossed, snoozing in his seat, and even Clyde was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Why fight the elves then?" Layla asked, trying to figure out if she missed a crucial detail.

"Fuck if we know. Like we told the Queen, we came here and they took great offence at that. We have protocols for first contact scenarios, and those are usually peaceful." Explained the soldier. "Apparently, on this world, it is common for negotiations to have a lot of boasting and waving around with threats."

"Had we known that, we would've blown a hole through their big tree and then sent a delegation, instead of the other way around." Clyde grinned.

"Are negotiations different on your world?" Tynaris refilled their cups with tea and sat back down.

"Very much so." Jeremy nodded while taking a sip. "There are a lot of rules, regulations, protocols, agreements and laws in place to keep us from self-exterminating."

"Sounds like such things happened before." Layla deduced.

The two soldiers snorted, and Jeremy agreed with the mage. "Yes, it has. Multiple times, luckily, our technology wasn't as advanced back then as it is now."

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, and all that," Clyde added.

Elisia was dead quiet, staring at her cup while on the verge of an existential crisis. There was no change in the story the men just told, and the story they told the Queen. The idea that the elves were fully to blame for the entire conflict that was brewing on the horizon had her mind working overtime to connect the dots. "The fucking elves embroiled us in their battles while making us think they were the ones being attacked."

"Luckily, the emissaries belonged to the guild that hired us and not to any of our governments, or things would be playing out very differently here," Clyde admitted.

Jeremy turned to his comrade with a look of shock, as if the man had said something he wasn't supposed to.

"What? It's not like it's a secret that the emissaries were company sent, just like us." The Warhound shrugged.

"Do guilds have political influence on your world, too?" Layla asked, drawing parallels between the two sides of the gate.

"Yes. Someone might say they even control the governments." Clyde leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, making a triangle shape with his hands and looking through it.

"So, what are your kingdoms and nations doing that is more important than a portal to a whole new world?" the mage looked at them, her curiosity only increasing with each answered question.

"Well, the natives are hostile, the logistics of transporting shit through the gates is a nightmare, and this world is powered by mana. Meaning that our oil guzzling asses have nothing to look for here. How many cataclysmic events did you guys have?"

"Well, besides the Demon Lord in the legends of old, not many. I think that was the only threat the world has faced that you could call world-ending. How many did your world have?"

Layla felt her eyes widen and face go pale when Clyde began mentioning all the world-ending events like the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs, multiple mega volcano eruptions that drowned the world in ash, ice ages and the most recent one, the Blackout solar storm of 2039. "Gods, what kind of Hell do you live on?"

"Earth's a nice planet once you get used to it." Jeremy shrugged.

"So, you use 'fossil fuels' to power your world." The mage nodded, wishing she had a book and a quill to write all the information down.

"Yeah. We used to, until the mid-century transformation of the global energy mix in 2052. You seem to catch on fast." Clyde pointed out.

"Thank you." Layla smiled at the praise. "The idea isn't impossible to grasp. When creatures die here, especially in large numbers, they are absorbed and distributed back into the world, the soil. Whatever the excess is forms mana crystals."

"I see. So those are crude oils on this world." Jeremy nodded while rubbing his chin like an intellectual. "How long does it take for mana crystals to form?"

"Depends. For some it takes years, for others centuries." She said with a shrug.

"You mentioned you two boys have known each other for over twenty years. Did you grow up together?" Tynaris joined in, wanting to steer the conversation away from a topic she understood little about.

"No, no, we met after joining the organisation." Clyde answered while trying to remember.

Tynaris looked at him and chuckled, before a chilling thought crossed her mind. "That makes no sense. Did you join the organisation as a child?"

"Nope. I was… around twenty-eight when I underwent the Warhound procedure."

Elisia looked up from her cup, now staring at Clyde and his comrades along with Layla and her mother, the three women carefully paying attention to every detail of the men's faces, trying to deduce how old they were based on how they looked.

Jeremy was the youngest of the three; that much was evident. He seemed to be of a similar age to Elisia. The appearance he sported, though dishevelled due to lack of upkeep and grooming, was one of a clean shaven and well-rounded young man.

Marcel's face was smooth, lacking any noticeable wrinkles. His hair was a short crew cut, and just like Jeremy, he wasn't trying to grow a beard. The short Warhound had a near-constant tired look in his eyes, one that was rarely a result of just physical exhaustion.

The oldest was definitely Clyde. His face showed subtle signs of no longer being in his twenties, but he seemed much more lively compared to Marcel, even though he was much more unkempt, with a longer and messier beard than the other two and a hairline that seemed to slowly surrender ground to oncoming age.

"I see. So, you." Layla pointed at Jeremy, smiling as if she were playing a guessing game. "You're twenty… eight."

"Seven. Twenty-seven." Jeremy replied.

"Darn. So close." She sipped her tea and turned her attention to his comrades. "You are… thirty? Thirty-one." The mage told Marcel, but the man did not grace her with a response.

"And the big fella seems to be in his mid-thirties, I'd say around thirty-three, maybe four on a bad day." Tynaris joined in, throwing her own guess into the mix.

Neither of the men replied; Clyde only smiled, a smile that told them their guesses were off and not by a little.

"Guess again." Jeremy drank his tea and grinned.

"Alright. What year were you born in, on your world?" Elisia joined in on the silly fun.

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"2029. The current year of our calendar is 2093." Clyde replied, now grinning as much as Jeremy while watching the gears turn in Elisia's mind.

Her eyes widened as she ran the numbers in her head again and again. The knight stares at the grinning Warhound, trying to see how it was possible that a man his age looked as youthful as he did. "You are a liar. There is no chance, not a single chance, that you are sixty-four years old."

"It's true," Clyde replied while shaking her head. "What about you, Mrs. Tynaris?"

"It's rude to ask a lady her age, but if you must know, I'm only forty-five. I was eighteen when I had Elisia." The woman answered, sharing her daughter's disbelief about Clyde's age.

The behemoth of a man pointed towards his dark-skinned comrade. "I'm not lying. This guy's fifty-five."

Marcel did not look a day over thirty, and no amount of bewildered staring from the still sobering women would change that fact.

"How?" Layla just whispered.

"Modern medicine. An average human lifespan on Earth is one hundred years, with some rare examples pushing into the one hundred and twenty range." Jeremy explained proudly, before motioning to Clyde and Marcel, who sat to his left.

"And Warhounds are genetically modified, they age much slower because they're designed to remain combat capable for as long as possible. Theoretically, they should have a life span between one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty."

The last part of his explanation caught Layla's attention. "Why 'theoretically'?"

"Oh. Well, because most Warhounds."

"All Warhounds." Clyde corrected him.

"Yes. All Warhounds eventually end up KIA. Death on the battlefield. By design, they should be able to live that long, but none of them do." The otherworlder revealed, losing his grin while speaking.

"What's the highest any Warhound has gotten to before dying?" Elisia asked, her mother shooting her a disapproving glare for such an unsavoury question.

"The current record holder is sixty-four years old. Colonel Clyde Sullivan." Jeremy replied, pointing towards the large man and shaking his open hands a bit. "Ta-dah."

The fact that neither of the three men was joking finally seemed to register as Layla and Elisia exchanged shocked expressions.

"Gods, you are older than Albrecht Perriman." The mage spoke, almost as if accusing Clyde of being old against his will.

"Shit, really?" The Warhound chuckled, not entirely believing her.

"Yes! The duke is fifty-three."

"Former duke." Elisia corrected her.

"I mean, being fifty meant you were old as fuck in medieval times," Clyde said to the other two otherworlders matter-of-factly.

"True, true. But I don't think this world fully mirrors our own medieval times." Jeremy countered.

"Good point."

The knight was processing all the information she had heard since lunch began a few hours ago. It was a lot to take in, and even more to accept. "I thought they were just soldiers, typical soldiers." She rubbed the sides of her head with her fingers to soothe the pressure.

"What about retirement? Soldiers retire, right?" The mage was the first to point out.

"In my thirty-six years as a Warhound, I took only two years of vacation in total," Clyde said boastfully, as if proud of his workaholic nature.

"That is insane. Why? Do you enjoy risking your life that much?" She asked, shocked by the response.

"I do." Confirmed the Warhound.

Jeremy sighed, looking up to Clyde for permission to answer her question. The Colonel nodded. "Warhounds are soldiers, but they are also seen as weapons. The process that creates them also makes them always crave high-risk, combat-like situations. They are designed to be borderline unable to function as civilians, it drives them nuts."

Elisia and Layla immediately looked at one another after hearing the soldier's explanation. The two women acted like that wasn't the first time they had heard of such a thing. A look of "should we tell them?" was etched on both their faces pretty plainly.

"Sound familiar?" Jeremy asked, as Elisia's and Layla's reactions got him curious.

Elisia exhaled, torn between lying by saying it doesn't and being honest. The otherworlders were pretty generous with all the information they provided about their world beyond the gate, and the conversation was too far gone for her to act secretive now. "The Queen has a similar affliction."

"Oh, really? How so?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"Hold on. I have to ask about what you told us about your comrades. It sounds like a pretty big secret, yet you shared it so easily, as if it were common knowledge." Layla interrupted Elisia before she could speak, allowing the knight some more time to gather her thoughts.

Clyde just waved her off dismissively. "It's not. The procedure, yes. It's pretty top-class. But the question of ethics that rose from the fact that Warhounds are always drawn to the battlefield or risky situations has been a hot topic of discussion on our world for the last thirty years."

He laughed and added. "Plus, it's not like you can do much with that information anyways. I'm drawn to situations where I have to kick ass and look good doing it, but I'm not without autonomy. I mean, I'm the one lea-".

The man's jaw suddenly clamped shut as he realised he may have spilt more beans than he would've liked. Elisia looked to be about thirty seconds from going into shock as she pieced together the continuation of his sentence. "Who is the man in charge of your 'mining operation', as you put it?"

Silence. She locked eyes with Clyde, and Layla did the same with Jeremy, preventing the two soldiers from glancing over to one another to get their stories straight. Marcel, who was snoozing in his chair but listening to the conversation the entire time, just cackled without uncrossing his arms or opening his eyes.

"It's him." Elisia stared at Clyde, struck full force by the realisation that the man in charge of the entire force of the otherworlders present on her world sat across the table from her.

"Does knowing who's in charge change the plan of taking us to Vatur?" Clyde asked carefully.

"No." She replied without hesitation. "The elves want to make an example for the rest of your forces and to boost their own morale by doing so. They do not care if the prisoners are bottom-of-the-barrel soldiers or higher-ranking ones. Though if they learn that you three aren't just grunts, they might torture you for information before killing you."

"And are they going to find out?" Clyde leaned forward, implying that the only way the Vatur elves were to learn of their importance would be if the people present at the table were to tell them.

"No." Elisia again replied without hesitation, surprising even herself. Prior to everything that happened in the village, she would've relished the thought of seeing the prisoners tormented and denied death for a long as possible. "I am tasked to deliver you to them. I will do so, and nothing more."

"If it wasn't for them, Filtz would most likely not survive his encounter with the ragabarn." She sighed, looking down at the table and then at Layla. The mage seemed to understand what Elisia was implying. The knight owed them a debt now. "I cannot set you free, nor can I go against my orders from the Queen, even with everything I know now. All I can do is keep my mouth shut so that the elves do not torment you for too long before executing you."

"For too long." Clyde laughed. "Good to know we will only get the standard amount of premortem torture."

Jeremy and Marcel chuckled at his words, none of them seeming to hold anything against Elisia or Layla, despite being told they are still being taken to their deaths. The knight thought back on the day when they had kneeled before Queen Kyara, listening to her tell them their sentence. If she knew their importance, would she have made a different call? Elisia doubted she would; after all, maintaining the already strained alliance with the Vatur kingdom was of greater importance.

The young combat mage was just glad that the Queen was not rash enough to execute them herself, even in spite of their bold taunts during their interrogation. Executing their people a second time would no doubt spark a much larger conflict with the otherworlders, but executing important figures, especially their leader, would all but guarantee war.

Her mind raced as the dots began to connect. "Their people are looking for them, that much is certain. If Perriman actually went to their outpost, then they'll know where to look."

"How much has Savik told you? Before you knocked him out and helped Perriman escape." Elisia's words dropped the atmosphere of the room immediately.

"Tell us what?" Jeremy replied, still maintaining his smile, but it no longer seemed genuine.

"About your sentence. About the route this group will be taking to the Vatur Kingdom."

"Nothing that the Queen hasn't told us already. He told us more about what will happen to Perry and when he will be executed. That's why we chose to try and bust him out." Clyde said without missing a beat, his stone-faced façade perfectly concealing the lies.

"Yeah." Jeremy nodded, maintaining a relaxed posture and tone despite the sudden shift in conversation and atmosphere at the table. "We felt like we sort of dragged him in with false promises and you know, prison makes a man contemplate his crimes, feel guilty and shit. So, we decided to help him escape so we'd sleep better at night."

"You didn't free him to send him on a mission to your outpost?" Elisia continued, her gaze boring into Clyde as if trying to read his mind.

"No. Even if we did, he lost everything because of associating with us." Marcel finally chimed in. "It would be crazy to think he feels any loyalty to us to take on such a mission. Even if we did tell him to deliver a message, the first thing he probably did was disappear and start to look for his family, not go run errands for us."

What he said made sense when spoken aloud. Perriman betrayed the crown over false promises and also got his head removed from his shoulders because of it. To think he would remain in any way loyal to the otherwolders was outlandish. He didn't strike Elisia as a man of unwavering character.

"I must excuse myself. The food, the wine, I will go to bed early." Her head was a mess, brain pounding like a drum, overloaded with all the thoughts and information she received in a single afternoon. With the excuse that she was simply in need of a lie down to digest the hearty lunch and the many cups of wine she had drunk, Elisia left the table and disappeared into her room.

With her gone, Jeremy looked to Layla. "What did you say about the Queen again? Something about an affliction?"

The mage nodded, sipping her tea and clearing her throat.

"Oh boy, story time." Clyde grinned.

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