Cullnartan stepped down the gangplank.
It was clear from his demeanor, the size of the crew and the lack of cargo that his diplomatic mission had failed.
The honor guard stepped forward, barking out the ceremonial greeting in the lyrical ancient tongue.
Their armor and mailskirts gleamed in the waning, horizontal sunlight, scimitars in bone scabbards, single crimson arrow strung to a small bow at the shoulder.
Doshnaltan, first in command in the absence of Cullnartan, stepped forward and pulled his scimitar halfway from its bone scabbard, gesturing to the leader of the island nation that the weapon was his for the taking. With his left hand, he made the Villcortian sign for “Welcome Home.”
It was theatrical, a tradition dating back to the first scrolls of their people.
The leader would decline the gift, bow in return, and then debrief his second in command.
Doshnaltan had witnessed these homecoming ceremonies since he was a child.
For the first time in his life, The Grand Tallak’ean gripped the scimitar and brandished it.
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