Larisa raised an eyebrow as the shard landed safely in Cydnar’s hand. He set it down onto the table and folded his arms across his chest. They stared at one another for an awkward moment, daring one another to break the stalemate. Her two companions hesitated, torn between being impressed and reaching for their weapons in earnest.

“Well.” She sighed. “You have teeth, I’ll give you that.”

Cydnar recognised a brief glimpse of worry in the agents features, which told him they had suspected he was more dangerous than he appeared. He pondered wherever or not other recruits to their cause were visited by so many well-armed ‘tradesmen’ as he. He smiled just enough to reveal his elongated canines, snake-like gifts from the Thayne Yrene and ran a tongue over them salaciously.

“You accept my terms, then?”

“I’m not sure accept is quite the word, Cydnar. But yes, your ‘companion’, whatever he means to you, can assist you. He will be guarded until we can establish his motives, which is nothing personal. We have rules, laws, and a war to defend ourselves against.”

“Good. I’m sure you can tell me more about this conflict as time goes on.” He made to stand. “Is that all?”

“For questions, yes. But we were hoping to show you the workshops, to show you what you’ll be working with before the next material shipment arrives, and you’re put to work.” Her expression showed confusion, as though she was still not quite sure how Cydnar had wrestled the advantage from her in her own game.

“Lead on, then,” he gestured to the door and stood. Whilst the visitors arranged themselves by the exit he donned a second layer of deep purple cloth and tied his hair back in a ponytail. When he made to strap his sword-canes to his waist he paused.

“Is everything alright?” Larisa smiled, remembering her place.

“I’ll need them back. Blades they may be,” he turned to face the trio, “but they are instruments as well. Like a screwdriver or hatchet, I won’t get much done without them.” With such a sparse connection to the Tap in the distant future, he would have to rely on the residual energy, the life-essence of Yrene still flowing through the edges of his weapons to prove his worth and continue to gain, or rather, enforce his trust upon these ‘elves’.

“We’ll collect them from the armoury on our way to the star ship landing.” Finally, back in control Larisa waved Cydnar out of the room and they walked in a haughty procession along a dimly lit, steel lined corridor to the centre of the needle-like tower. “Truth be told,” she began as they approached a door set into an imposing bulkhead, “I’ve not seen a sword since I was a child.” She counted on her fingers mockingly, “some seven centuries ago.”

“Consider me a traditionalist,” he replied glibly.

“We were rather hoping you would be.” She entered a code and the door opened to reveal a circular chamber that reminded Cydnar of the vertical transport shafts in Ettermire of old.

“This lift takes us down to the armoury, then we’ll head out to show you the aft of the vessel.” They piled in and Cydnar found himself surrounded but stood tall and proud and unflinching.