"In coordination with the Logistical Branch, will apply the Zulu Time Zone to standardize coordination between Earth and Alagore. All military planning will follow Zulu standards, including coordinating with local allies. We are attaching an Alagore Standard Time (AST) for conversation. Zulu will be used to reference Earth and AST for Alagore.

A year is a full rotation of this system's host star, Dorash, being AST 315.5 days or 369.75 Zulu days (following Tekali orbit), and a month is AST 31.43 days (approximately 36.71 Earth Zulu Days). This allows a month to have three weeks, with a week being one orbit around the host planet, equaling three local days, all a total of ten months in a Tekali year.

The Alagorian calendar follows a 1:2:3:4 orbital resonance system. Orgatrash is the first world, Kallinth is the second, Alagore is the third, and Thrice is the fourth world (Virmina is fifth, and Logia is sixth, but neither has an orbital resonance). All these worlds orbit a Gas Giant called Tekali (warning to all staff: the Alagore religion centralizes around this world significantly, so all respect must be given).

As stated, all military operations will be focused on Zulu time to streamline operations." - Oracle

April 7th, 2068 (military calendar)

Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

Hearing the intense rainfall pounding on the roof, Mathew Ryder stared into the blazing fire at the center of the room, fiddling with his Christian cross necklace as he reflected on recent events. The fire was the standard red-orange—no one was trying to hide, only stay warm. Crystal light bulbs lined the walls, all switched off; the city had no electric power.

This world's lunar cycle brought relentless rain, forcing the Minutemen to adjust operations. The ridged terrain around Salva was already treacherous—now it was prone to mudslides and ambushes. Fortunately, the storms had slowed the enemy's movements as well.

"My Lord," Yeldan asked. "Are you listening?"

Ryder heard his name and snapped back to reality. The newly appointed Duke of Salva turned from the fire toward his motuia political advisor, Varitan Yeldan. The wood elf had tan skin, shoulder-length black hair, and gray eyes. He appeared middle-aged—probably a few hundred years old in his species' terms. Unlike the maid staff, who wore red and white, he wore a dark green and black silk-like robe with a wide Spanish red belt. White geometric designs ran across the fabric in a three-dimensional cube pattern.

Ryder had planned to lead a penetration mission once the rain lifted. But first, political duties called. His mentor, William Hackett, had provided a list of Council concerns. Still, adjusting to political life was proving far harder than expected.

As an Army officer, he had a support system and a clear chain of command. Now, while he had Hackett and Yeldan, he was being forced to learn how to rule on the fly.

"Sorry," Ryder said. "I was deep in thought. You were talking about money?"

"That is correct," Yeldan said. "The Council is upset that Lord Folen Elstina has been receiving all your people's contracts."

"We're at war," Ryder replied. "Restarting your arms industry is the top priority. Besides, we've only been here a month."

"I understand," Yeldan said. "But as your advisor, that grace period won't last forever. Your people and House have the support of the public, but economic growth must be addressed."

"He's right, Father," Assiaya added from the chair beside him. "Many shop owners see you as customers, not contributors. They're growing restless."

Ryder took a moment to reflect. Still, defending a starving, jobless population was a losing battle. Guns alone didn't hold a city together. Defense mattered—but people needed money to pay their bills. Eventually, the U.S. government wouldn't want to carry the full burden of Salva and its allies. They would want Salva to thrive economically for trade and stability. Even though Salva could never rival the U.S. economically, Ryder could see its potential. Being the first major city by the Bridge—a portal between two worlds—meant Salva could become the next Artemis Base on the Moon: a hub for expansion.

Ceka approached, carrying a tray with three glasses: two with water and slices of green citrus, and one with a dark blue berry juice for Assiaya.

Ryder took his drink, thanking his Head Maid but feeling awkward. He had seen such service for Colonel Hackett—and for generals—but never expected it for himself. He was living the aristocratic life now. Part of him still flinched at the sight of someone waiting on him, especially knowing that on paper, she was his property. It felt wrong—even if culturally accepted here.

He still preferred to see himself as a soldier rather than a royal politician. His noble status wasn't recognized legally by his own country, but Hackett had given him this role—and he had vowed to carry it out to the best of his ability.

He held up a document with the Council transcript, surprised at how little had been accomplished. After half a day's debate, only two topics had moved forward.

"Varitan. I understand that housing and currency exchange are the two main issues?"

"Those are the top concerns—among dozens," Yeldan said. "But yes. Unless you believe something else takes priority, I recommend we start with those."

"I'll pass this to Colonel Hackett," Ryder said. "My people value property rights, so I don't see much issue there. And assuming we're staying long-term, filling vacant homes won't be hard. Americans need a place to sleep. As for the banking system, we just need to modernize it so our currency can flow into yours. One of our computers could handle that."

"I'll relay the news to the Council."

"No need," Ryder said, watching the Wood Elf's reaction. The elf looked confused but remained silent. "Assiaya will pass the message in my absence."

"If that is your wish," Yeldan said, clearly displeased.

Noticing the discomfort, Ryder scanned the rest of the document. There were minor issues—sewer repairs, building reconstruction—but the major concern during the blockade remained food.

"I've also made progress on a food solution," Ryder said.

"These chickens I've heard so much about?" Yeldan asked. "I hear they can produce unlimited eggs—quickly, I might add."

Ryder chuckled at the absurdity. "I don't know the full history of chickens, but I believe eggs stopped being a luxury centuries ago. It never dawned on me that this flightless bird could become our salvation. It won't end the food crisis, but it'll reduce reliance on MRE shipments."

"Not unlimited, but close," Ryder added. "Sherman's on board and will send a few truckloads. I don't have an ETA, but it shouldn't take long."

"That will be good news for the public. Even if these... chickens... only provide limited success, morale should improve among the commons."

Ryder leaned back, flipping to a new set of proposals.

"These came from Hackett today—this time about motuias."

"Let me guess," Yeldan said. "More law translations?"

"Correct," Ryder replied. "We're trying to meet your customs halfway, but to do that, we need to understand your laws." The motuia system—voluntary servitude bound by contract—was both deeply cultural and politically essential in Alagore.

"I understand," Yeldan said. "Translating Elvish to your English is no easy task."

"Two thousand years of language evolution makes it tough," Ryder said. "It'll get easier, but for now, we take the hard road."

"That can be done. Any topic you want to prioritize?"

"Yes. Start with the motuia-related documentation. If I'm going to have these servants, I want to know the moral way to do it."

"I understand your people are sensitive on such matters."

"Sensitive?" Ryder snapped. "I'm sticking my neck out to make this alliance work. If it backfires, I'll be first in line for the public guillotine."

"Father," Assiaya said, "if your people hate our ways that much, why embrace them?"

"I'm not embracing them," Ryder said. "I'm trying to bridge two worlds. That takes understanding. Moral policing won't win this war—especially if we don't understand each other's customs. And frankly, I trust Natilite when she says your motuia system has been a net benefit—not an oppressive one."

"In other words," Yeldan said, "politics as usual. I'll prioritize the translations and provide a list of recommended changes."

"I think Assiaya should handle the process," Ryder said. He noticed confusion and annoyance in Yeldan's expression—and similar confusion in his daughter's eyes.

"My Lord," Yeldan asked, "have I done something to offend you?"

"Father," Assiaya said. "You can trust Yeldan. He's been a huge help to me as Princess."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Ryder sat quietly, staring at his political advisor. "Ceka, please take Assiaya."

"Yes, my Lord." Ceka gently touched Assiaya's arm and whispered that it was time to go.

The room went silent in confusion. Obeying his order, Assiaya stood, gave her father one last confused glance, and followed Ceka out.

Left alone, Ryder and Yeldan stared at each other in tense silence. After a moment, Yeldan opened his mouth—but Ryder cut him off.

"What's your deal?" Ryder asked.

Yeldan blinked. "My Lord?"

"Drop the 'Lord' stuff in private, or this will be a long night," Ryder said.

"You prefer to speak candidly," Yeldan replied. "I can respect that."

"But do you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Ryder turned back toward the large square fireplace. It was a tactic his mentor had used: silent stares into the fire to project posture. A glance told him Yeldan looked more irritated than reflective. Maybe he was doing it wrong—but he pressed on.

"What are you doing here, Varitan?"

"I'm here to guide you and the Princess through Salva and Alagore politics. I'm your motuia advisor."

Ryder turned. "Do you remember when we met?"

"Of course. After your team took the city, you gave that passionate speech to calm the militia. Then again at Vagahm."

Ryder was surprised. A lot had happened since then. "You've been a huge help—even before we installed Assiaya as Princess. But now, you're giving us political advice."

"And that's the problem? That I'm doing my duty?"

"Not that you're doing your duty. It's the manner of it. You're not a fool—that much is clear."

"Then what is the issue?"

"My issue is this: Why did you choose to remain a motuia?"

"If I may correct you—you have Ceka."

"Ceka was a gift that I was forced to accept for PR reasons. And the truth was, I needed someone to watch over the domestic needs of my House when I am away. And I do get it, the principle. If you want something, you must give something in return - nothing is given for free. For Ceka, she serves my family in return for being taken care of."

"Well said. If you understand the principles—"

"Then why am I angry with you? Because I remember a clause in the motuia contract. If the owner dies or there's no legitimate successor, the contract is void. The previous ruling House is gone with no lineage to reclaim the throne. You could've walked away—no fuss—and remained a political advisor. Neither Hackett nor I would have questioned it. But you chose to install yourself as my motuia."

"That is simple. On Alagore, the motuia institution—"

"Don't give me cultural fluff. You had a free ticket out—and instead, you locked yourself to me without my approval. I've studied this system and politics. Some use it to gain station. Others for apprenticeships. But for you? You're too ambitious for tradition."

Yeldan wanted to speak, but Ryder raised a hand, stopping any interruption. "Above all else, I don't trust any man near my daughter if he has ulterior motives. It is the only reason I am doing this."

It wasn't just the contract. It was the subtle way Yeldan always positioned himself, always advising, never obeying. Too smooth. Too strategic.

Yeldan stared—not blankly, but calculating. Then he raised his right hand, revealing his binding mark. The same kind Assiaya and Ceka bore.

"You are correct. I did consider removing the contract and remaining as a free agent."

"Then why didn't you?"

Yeldan lowered his hand, joining Ryder at the fireplace. "Because it wouldn't be proper. Closest advisors of a House ruler—Princess or Duke—are motuia, not politicians. It removes personal bias or bribes. We belong to you. No self-interest. No ego."

"I understand that. And yet?"

"And yet, with your arrival, things will change. I don't know how or when, but I've already seen it. One day, this city may become part of your empire—but that's a topic for another day."

Ryder followed the logic. Yeldan was securing his future by tying himself to the Ryder House—a calculated, political move.

"I see where you're going with this," Ryder said. "If you're going to be my motuia political advisor, I need to know what drives you. Loyalty must be earned."

Yeldan inhaled deeply. "I want to be a leader of this city one day—and further beyond. I admit, I'm uniquely positioned to learn from your world. But to do that, I must serve you and Assiaya. My station cannot leave without being branded a traitor."

"And you're the only one at the moment," Ryder said, seeing the long-term value.

To his surprise, Yeldan knelt before him.

In Alagore, kneeling wasn't just about submission—it was a declaration of allegiance, public and irreversible. But to Ryder, it felt feudal, alien, and unnecessary.

"Master Ryder," Yeldan said. "You didn't seek power—only to protect your daughter. That alone has earned my trust. You have handled yourself well so far in surviving the challenges of my world. Accept me as your motuia advisor. I'll carry your will and bring honor to your House."

Ryder realized Yeldan was anchoring his political career to Ryder's success. If Ryder failed, so would the elf's ambitions.

Feeling the heat of the fire and the awkwardness, Ryder still knew one thing: he needed someone he could trust by Assiaya's side when he wasn't there.

"Stand up."

Yeldan glanced up and rose. For the first time, Ryder saw fear in his eyes. He placed both hands on the elf's shoulders.

"In my House, no one kneels. Now that I know the man—I'll accept the arrangement. Do right by me and my daughter, and I'll do right by you."

Bridging two worlds would take more than fire and steel—it would take trust. And now, Ryder had taken the first step.

April 8th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

Hearing the Council discuss the latest issues plaguing the city, Princess Assiaya struggled to listen. In annoyance, she leaned back into her father's throne—one he refused to sit in.

"Princess," Yeldan whispered. "You must pay attention."

"We spent two hours talking about chickens," Assiaya replied.

"It is important," Yeldan said.

To reduce food shortages, the Americans had brought chickens to Salva and gifted them to the Council. The intention was for the Council to determine how to distribute the animals, as Colonel Hackett wished to avoid meddling in internal politics—at least directly.

What was meant to ease a food shortage instead ignited a political crisis. Usually, such a gift wouldn't spark controversy, especially over an ordinary animal. However, everyone quickly realized the value of the flightless bird. Most egg-laying animals produced slowly, making each egg a time-consuming luxury. But chicken eggs were nearly endless—transforming them from luxury goods into everyday staples.

The head of the leading merchant guild, Itotia, was a powerful Yalate within the City-State. He wanted to monopolize livestock and corner egg production, angering the other guilds and triggering a crisis for local businesses that wouldn't benefit from his hold.

"I know…," Assiaya said. "I just miss Father."

"I understand," Yeldan replied. "He has his responsibilities, and you have yours."

She sat up straighter and listened to the heated debate. The one challenging Itotia was Tayaki Minoru, who owned the banking guild. His wife, another Kitsune, owned the brothel guild, the High Moon.

According to her motuia advisor, those two Houses had always been at economic war. Most major cities had multiple guilds competing with one another, typically preventing any one guild from dominating an industry. But Salva, being a small City-State, lacked such competition. The only blessing was that Yalates and Kitsune didn't particularly like each other.

"You cannot be the sole owner of such a gift," Tayaki said.

Itotia waved a hand in dismissal. "These chickens are a merchant good, not a banknote to be handed out. My guild should manage them."

"Such items do fall under the merchant guild's authority," Folen added.

"And collect all the profits," Tayaki retorted. "Folen, you must see the value in this. These eggs could produce more profit than your weapons. We could become the hub for exporting cheap eggs."

"Which is why my guild should manage the animals," Itotia said. "I have the means and connections to export them."

As the two men shouted at each other, Assiaya turned to her advisor. "What do you think?"

"I believe the Americans did not understand the gravity of introducing such an animal to our world," Yeldan said. "What is common for them is not common for us. As they say—culture shock."

"No kidding…," the voice said. The voice, ever her unseen guide, stirred again. "Why can this not be easy?"

"The issue is," Yeldan continued, "under normal practice, these chickens would fall under the regulatory burden of Itotia's merchant guild. If any funds were needed, they would go to the bank for a loan. However—"

"There is no money in the banks," Assiaya interrupted. "And Itotia would make enough money to cut the banks out entirely."

"I am impressed," Yeldan said. "Yes. If Itotia gains a monopoly over these farm animals, he will have more influence than your House."

"True…," Assiaya muttered. "But I do not want to be a tyrant."

"Then we would have to allow Itotia to have the chickens," Yeldan said.

"But…," Assiaya hesitated. "No one should have that much control. Why is this not an issue for the Americans?"

"It is a common bird in their world," Yeldan explained. "We are the first to have such beasts. The economic potential is worth more than gold—if controlled."

The Princess closed her dual-colored eyes as a headache began to form. Clearly, the Americans hadn't fully considered the implications of importing such a common animal. Whether due to crisis management or ignorance—since the bird was an everyday meal—it was done without much thought.

"So," Assiaya said, "you think we should maintain control over them?"

"We need to boost the economy and mitigate the food crisis," Yeldan said. "If these golden eggs remain in the Council's hands, the cost will stay high. But it will bring much-needed profits to our House and the government—funds we need to rebuild the city."

"Why is this so hard," Assiaya thought.

"I was thinking," the voice said. "It was Forest who proposed the idea."

"Yeah…, so?"

"What was that thing they said? Something about people owning chickens. Even Higgins agreed with him—and they never agree on anything."

"Hmm…. If I recall, it was an amendment. Those are important, I think. Something to do with the Constitution."

For some reason, the point stuck with Assiaya. That celebration felt like forever ago, and she could barely remember it. "Varitan…, do you know about American amendments?"

"I have studied elements of their founding documents," Yeldan replied. "Knowing what your master values is key to survival."

She gave him a no-shit look.

"I mean," Assiaya clarified, "does it say everyone can own these animals? Even in cities?"

"It does," Yeldan said. "There is an amendment stating that their people can own chicken herds. I can only conclude there was a time when the state or guilds attempted to monopolize such animals into the hands of a few—similar to what we are discussing now."

"What do you think?" Assiaya thought.

"I think Varitan is testing us," the voice said.

"How so? I thought he was being direct with the options."

"Too direct. He's right—this will help bring funds to our House and the Council. But I wonder—do we even need them? The Americans are rebuilding Salva, and I don't think Father would want to enrich himself."

"True. Our new Father wouldn't do that. There must be a compromise, though."

"Varitan," Assiaya said, "I do not want us to hoard these chickens. But maybe we can find a balance. What do you propose?"

"I recommend asking the Council," Yeldan replied. "Declare your desired outcome and allow the Council to propose solutions. That is why there is chaos—you must show leadership."

"But I don't know what to do," Assiaya admitted.

"You don't need to have the solution," Yeldan said. "Sometimes, you must provide direction in order to discover the solution."

Seeing her motuia advisor's wisdom, the Princess took a deep breath and adjusted her posture. As the two Houses continued their heated argument, she said, "I have something to say."

The Yalate and Kitsune continued arguing as if they didn't hear her. Yeldan then raised his voice, demanding silence so their Princess could speak. The two council members quieted and turned to her.

"Thank you," Assiaya said. "Regarding these chickens—my House and this Council will not restrict them from the people."

She caught the disappointment in both Itotia and Tayaki's eyes. She knew why: they believed they were about to lose out on a major opportunity. "What can we do to make that work, so that all of us benefit?"

"We cannot allow everyone a chicken," Itotia warned. "A rodent crisis will unfold."

"If I understand," Folen interjected, "they must sell these eggs at a shop like any other product. Why not create an arrangement to encourage such trade?"

"I see what you mean," Itotia said. "There is empty land throughout the city that can be transformed into mini-farms. My guild can provide regulations and contracts for such farms."

"No shop restrictions," Assiaya said. "All shops can bid with these farms."

"I understand, my Lady," Itotia nodded. "I will treat it like your fishing agreement with the Nagals."

As the Council began forming a plan to resolve the chicken crisis fairly, the Princess leaned back with a sigh of relief.

"Then it is settled," Yeldan said. "I want your guilds to formalize proposals on your contributions to this program. The House of Ryder will review them. I expect the proposals by the end of the day."

When the topic finally ended, Assiaya felt the tension in her chest loosen—until the next debate arose: the sewage buildup from the sudden influx of native and Altaerrie residents.

Assiaya could only thump the back of her head against the chair in boredom.

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