Book 2 - Moon
Part 1
This thread is intended to be paired with The Hourglass (2.1)
Monday, February 6th, 2023
Arzaalnay, Dabaab 18th, 412
Yufraan Abd’ildarra was sitting in a fairly comfortable couch in an uncomfortably-lit room, vaguely reminiscent of sitting in a school at 9 p.m., long after everyone who was supposed to be there had left. The harsh white walls and beige furnishings did nothing to dispel the feeling, either. Standing in the doorway, a young soldier was nervously apologizing, explaining that they hadn’t known who Yufraan and Omar were when they had been apprehended. They being Alkhatawf, the quote-unquote “rebel group” that the duo had been searching for for almost a month. And now Yufraan had just sort of… stumbled into them. A bit anticlimactic, they supposed, but they also certainly weren’t turning it down.
“Yes. Yes sir. Loud and clear.” Yufraan’s focus shifts back to reality as the soldier puts up his walkie-talkie. “Colonel Hawk would like to see you now. Follow me.” Yufraan and Omar gave each other a quick glance, before standing up and following him.
Don’t worry, Yufraan. This is not a trap - these people still respect me, came a voice inside Yufraan’s head. Ildarra, the great spirit of change. It was still sometimes weird, having a god in their head - Not a god. A deity. Right, right. Sorry, Yufraan thought. It was weird having a deity in their head - although Ildarra was also technically a god, because she was worshipped, and really isn’t that All right, all right, you’ve made your point. Don’t worry, I’m not walking into a trap, Yufraan responded. Although it will be interesting to meet this Hawk fellow. We have almost no information on him.
The soldier led the mortal pair through a tight hallway up to a metal door. Yufraan figured they were in some sort of repurposed bunker, by the looks of things. A good hiding spot.
“The colonel has given you an audience. Please stand back,” he said, and began to open the door. The inside of the room was large and dimly lit, and emanated a musty stench as if the door hadn’t been opened in weeks. At the far end was a crescent dais, with an elderly orcish man seated at its head, who Yufraan assumed was Saarkis Hawk, the leader of Alkhatawf. Standing to his right and slightly behind him was a young human woman, her features obscured by the darkness. Around the table were various other people, all in formal dress and all seemingly above the age of 50.
“Arham kaawlbak, Mutj Mutadiit al-Ildarra Alaalahiiya.” Hawk’s voice is loud and booming, carrying throughout the chamber.
“Well met, Colonel,” Yufraan says, giving a small bow. “My father and I have come to seek assistance in the fight against our oppressors.”
“Very well. Make your case.” Yufraan takes a deep breath before beginning.
“For a century now, the Aldaari people have suffered under the yoke of the Western Gondwanan Economic Company, and their subsidiaries - symbols for the oppression of our faith, our culture, our people. Here, in Sayaduun, Zakyn Petroleum has put harsh quotas on fishermen, disrupted all natural flow of trade, and put the same oppressive cultural repression laws in place that they did in every republic. But you all already know that - that’s why you’re here, after all. And likely, you also know what I am about to tell you next: In Mukarras, we were able to strike quickly and take the power back for the people. But WEGEC isn’t happy, and they’re coming back. And when they do, they’ll crack down even more, do anything to prevent us from rising up again. Which is why we need Alkhatawf. With your help, we will be able to drive out these imperialists. We will be able to take back our homeland. We will be able to protect our people. But we can’t do it alone. We need every willing person in the Anabat to stand with us, against tyranny. So I, Yufraan Abd’Ildarra, ask you - will you stand up and fight?” Several of the people around the table begin to clap, even lightly cheer, but Saarkis Hawk shushes them with a wave of his hand.
“I have one question for you. Can you channel Ildarra, like the stories claim? Are you truly our Mutadiit?” Without even a half second of hesitation, Yufraan replies.
“Yes.” Colonel Saarkis Hawk sits back in his chair, and strokes his chin in contemplation.
“You have given me much to think about, Mutj Mutadiit. Tomorrow night, we will hold a banquet. I will give my decision then.” The heavy metal door opens, and the same soldier escorts Yufraan and their father out.
That went rather well, I think, came the voice from inside Yufraan’s head. I agree, the young leader thought. Let’s hope it was enough.