21. Tyrxie
Chapter 21
Tyrxie
Gifts
T wo days have passed since we reached the tentative agreement for the Nebian-Klendathian alliance, and now is the time to formalize the pact. I stand awestruck on a raised platform, overlooking a sea of curious Nebians with hair in shades of brown, orange, red and yellow stretching out as far as the eye can see.
Hundreds of drones hover and buzz, adding to the cacophony of the excited murmuring of the enormous crowds. Nebian battlesuits stand or hover through the air and above them loom sleek, arrow-like vessels, patrolling the sky like languid creatures. The setting for this event is the courtyard of the Imperial palace.
It’s surreal to be honored here in celebration when only some days ago, I snuck in as an enemy desperate to reach Xandor. Thank the stars things turned out as they did. Massive banners of various colors and designs flutter over the enormous thick walls of the palace, where ominous laser cannons sit to host more curious Nebians, seeking any vantage point.
A towering statue of Bulba, the first Imperator, looms behind, cast in glittering orange. I marvel, wondering if it’s real Elerium, meaning its value would be beyond measure. I wrinkle my nose, nervous tension building inside as I suppress the urge to scratch my face. Our projections fill Nebia’s sky, and the last thing I want people to think is that I’m picking my nose.
They already think we’re backward savages.
“Relax, my love, you look stunning today,” Xandor smiles, placing a hand on my back. My heart flutters at his gentle touch and words as I smile at his frowning face. “Well, you always look stunning, even when you scurried like a varmint under the ship’s gangways.” He gives a brief chuckle.
Seems like a lifetime ago, a different Tyrxie who would never believe this scene before me now.
Xandor is the beautiful one, posing like a majestic hero in his gleaming armor, his fearsome mask hanging from his belt and his half cloak billowing in the light breeze, covering his missing arm. Not only had the Nebians returned his equipment, but repaired every facet, even replicated his cloak. He looks every bit the noble leader, towering above everyone, danger wrapped up in his infectious good humor and easy smile.
Love flows through me as I look upon him, knowing how well he spoke before the Imperator. Like a different person, he banished his dark impulses and played the part better than I dared hope—my Warrior of Peace.
For my part, I struggled to prepare for this event, wishing I had a uniform or something like Xandor’s armor to make the choice easier. Instead, I entered the puzzling world of Nebian female fashion—a world with endless depths and numerous pitfalls. For the Nebians, high collars signify social rank, but too much is seen as arrogant, unless deemed worthy. Rules on colors and styles for certain occasions sent my head spinning, making me wish I could just wear my simple shirts and maintenance pants.
In the end, I choose a distinct style—Rebecca’s style—opting for a human dress. I do not know if it’s considered fashionable on Earth, but I thought it was beautiful. A flowing floor-length, deep green dress with a plunging neckline. Xandor seemed to like it when he nearly ravished me on the spot, saying how it matched the emerald depths of my eyes.
He’s such a dramatic charmer.
“Gods, this is turning out like one of Crenix’s boring clan meeting reports,” Xandor states in frustration, although he maintains a smile toward the crowd. “Is an army of short-stuffs supposed to watch us until we keel over from boredom?” My eyes dart across the roaring scene, wondering what comes next.
I chuckle at his silly complaints. “If you’re leaving, then so am I. I’ve been wanting to scratch my nose for ages!”
“Oh?” Xandor wastes no time rubbing my nose in a blinding flash of movement, so quick I can’t even react. “Better?”
“Yes, actually, thank you,” I say, slightly embarrassed, hoping no one noticed in the giant projections.
“I could really use a piss. But I don’t want to leave, not until I get my sword back,” Xandor states with an eager smirk.
He’s getting it back?
I resist the urge to ask how he knows—Xandor seems to know everything now. It’s unsettling at times, speaking with him. His single eye often glazes over as if he’s seeing something beyond the moment, and he speaks with a certainty that borders on the uncanny. What troubles me most is the fear that he might be feigning interest. Why ask when the ceremony begins if he already knows? It unnerves me, but I’m determined to keep him anchored in the present.
A sleek, purple-trimmed-in-gold Nebian ship comes pulsing into view, interrupting my troubled thoughts. The enormous crowd erupts into raucous cheering as my pulse rises, knowing it must be the Imperator. “Come to Xandor,” my love chuckles, eyeing the landing vessel with greed.
The ship halts with surprising speed and precision, a fraction above the platform. Its door opens upward, revealing the Imperator flanked by seven Nebians who must be the Consuls. All dressed in colorful high-collared robes that soar past their heads as if reaching for the stars. The cheering of the crowd becomes deafening as I find myself seeking comfort in Xandor’s powerful arm.
“Everything will be fine, my little puffrio,” Xandor assures me as we focus on the approaching procession. An honor guard of purple Nebian battlesuits hovers above, their presence adding to the ear-splitting din and overwhelming atmosphere that seems to shake the very ground and electrify the air.
To our right, a musical band with strange luminescent instruments and young Nebian singers dressed in gleaming white begins a pulsing, driving rhyme heightened with a celestial sense of haunting harmonics from the singers. It gives the impression of a great powerful force coming from among the heavens.
The Imperator turns to wink at us, and I smile back, despite feeling so overwhelmed by this momentous event. All the massive projections now focus on the Imperator, giving me a sense of relief, as he approaches a hovering circular platform that projects rings of orange and blue. He floats into the air with his hands raised, basking in the adoration of the roaring throng.
“Brothers and sisters of the twin-suns!” The Imperator’s voice booms out, amplified by unknown means. “I stand before you this day renewed; thanks to the two visitors from distant stars, you see before you!” he gestures towards Xandor and me, my face feeling like molten plasma has heated it. The crowd erupts into deafening cheers once again, forcing the Impetrator to wait.
“A gift from you, my Kor-Kis,” Xandor whispers in my ear, his hot breath sending a tingle down my spine.
From my quick studies of Nebia, it’s well known Bulba the Fourth was a faded genius. Many Nebians thought it an ill omen that, in their time of greatest need, their trusted leader, who they looked to for a thousand years, had all but abandoned them, lost to a strange madness.
But I brought him back, like I did Xandor. A gift from who? Xandor’s Gods?
“And now a new way forward is revealed!” The Imperator’s voice echoes out as he waits for his words to settle. “An alliance with the Klendathians! Together, we shall turn the tide against the Fallen Scythians, a stunning victory before a lasting peace. A peace that will echo through the ages!” The words boom out over a sea of joyous cheers that hitch my breath.
“Now as a symbol of our everlasting peace, and to right that which should never have happened. I offer these gifts to our esteemed allies!” the Imperator gestures beyond him to his many Nebian attendees. Four of them approach carrying a long, heavy black object that can only be the sword Xandor spoke of.
Xandor beams beside me, his excitement palpable. He joins the struggling Nebians, grasping the massive sword with ease, his eye admiring the new addition of the scabbard of the deepest black with intricate glowing golden symbols etched into it. “It’s even more beautiful than I envisioned,” Xandor mutters in awe. He struggles, placing the strap over his shoulder.
I rush over, my heart yearning to spare him any embarrassment. “You’ve earned this a hundred times over,” I congratulate him as I help loop the strap over his shoulder, fixing it tight to his armor.
“Let’s give it a whirl,” Xandor smiles at me. The crowd is now silent. Only the buzzing of machines overhead and the pulsing music can be heard. Xandor unsheathes the sword in a single graceful motion, stepping into an empty area.
“Nothing can ever mend that which was taken and suffered. But I, Imperator Bulba, the Fourth, bestow upon you a piece of our sacred technology, a symbol of our repentance, and of our trust,” the Imperator’s voice booms through the immense courtyard.
Xandor activates his sword, placing the glowing weapon before his face. “And those are the words engraved on it!” The Imperator adds as Xandor crouches low, his chest rising and falling, golden mist spilling from his eye. He leaps into a blinding flourish of slashes and thrusts, gliding and dancing through the air with fluid grace.
At first, he moves with dazzling, mesmerizing speed, flowing from one poise to another with smooth precision. His green hair drifts behind him, each strand catching the light as he spins and twists, a living whirlwind of color and energy. The sword leaves a trail of glowing crimson arcs, cutting through the air with an almost musical hum.
The crowd mutters in disbelief, their eyes unable to follow his movements as Xandor’s speed increases further, becoming a blur of motion. He seems to defy gravity, his feet barely touching the ground as he performs intricate maneuvers, his body a blur of green and gold. The sword flickers and flashes, a radiant extension of his will, carving patterns in the air that linger like afterimages in the crowd’s dazzled eyes.
My heart soars, watching his impossible speed, pride for my male overwhelming me. He is a force of nature, an unstoppable tempest of elegance and power.
As quickly as it started, he reappears, his chest heaving with effort and a broad smile before bowing towards the roaring audience. “A limb for a limb. I shall treasure it always!” he declares between gulps of air, his voice carried by some amplification.
The ground vibrates as the horde of attendees stomp their feet in appreciation of the stunning display. “With allies like Ambassador Xandor, the Scythians can’t stand against us!” the Imperator laughs, soon joined by the throng of others.
Xandor returns to stand beside me, smiling as he re-sheathes his massive sword. “You were amazing,” I beam up at him.
“Tis but a trifle,” he replies in a mocking voice, his hungry gaze drinking in my body in a wonderful, exciting way.
“Next, for the ship that was tragically destroyed, I bestow this!” the Imperator declares, gesturing towards the purple and gold Nebian vessel he and the Consuls arrived in. My mouth falls open in disbelief, looking at Xandor who nods with a knowing smile. “Our latest Starfighter, envied throughout the galaxies, however stripped of its laser cannons, downgraded to plasma. We can’t give away all our secrets, can we?” he adds with laughter directed towards the crowd who cheer in agreement.
“Congratulations, my love,” Xandor whispers into my ear, while I’m still overcome with shock. “It mightn’t have the personality of the Mutalisk Hammer, but at least it works,” he adds with a laugh.
“Um... Is this for us?” I shift my gaze between the beautiful ship and my handsome Xandor. “Like an actual Nebian ship?”
“An actual Nebian ship.” He nods in agreement. “For you and the crew. Earned a million times over,” he echoes my early words with a proud smile. “The bravest, strangest band of mercenary misfits that’s ever graced the void of space.”
I struggle to hold back tears, rushing over to stand before the immense glimmering ship. It’s like a work of art, a single piece of solid chassis as solid as my love for Xandor. I run my hand over the cold surface, marveling at its construction.
“It’s bad luck for a ship to go nameless. What shall it be called?” The Imperator inquires as I notice a drone hovering beside me.
An answer snaps to my mind, the one person who’d appreciate this gift more than me. “Kaanus’s Gamble,” I mutter, my words amplified yet still filled with automatic purity. A part of his legacy to live on, the good side that struggled, the side that sacrificed his life to save ours, the side that used to tell me stories as I gazed out into the stars.
“A fine name!” the Imperator declares. “Though there won’t be much need to gamble when that ship gets going!” he laughs, followed by the deafening crowd.
“Now, let us bind our splendid alliance. Ambassador Xandor, if you would join me,” the Imperator gestures to a podium that’s now rising from the platform, as his hovering surface carries him to stand before it.
A radiant red projection extends up, dominating the sky, detailing the terms of the alliance. “With our biometric signature, we bring into reality this alliance for the betterment of both our peoples,” the Imperator declares, placing his hand before the beam of light, causing the color to flash to blue for an instant.
An eerie silence lingers as millions wait with bated breath to see Xandor loom over the podium. He reaches his massive hand into the red light, pausing for dramatic effect. “Death to the Scythians! Honor to the Nebians! Honor to the Klendathians!” he roars, placing his hand inside the flickering light.
The silence erupts into a deafening cheer as the ground shakes with the stomping feet of the countless crowd. The Imperator holds out his knee while grinning, a final symbol of agreement. Xandor wastes no time completing the simple act with a little too much gusto, almost toppling the Imperator. Thankfully, he helps straighten him before he falls.
The Imperator laughs, reaching into a compartment on the podium and extracting two golden plates. Both appear engraved with writing. “I hold history in my hands, a copy for each of our peoples. Take it back to your High Chieftain with pride.” He offers Xandor one of the shining plates. “Let us celebrate this momentous union with feasting, dancing, and song!”
As the twin suns beam down on us, and the deafening crowd stomps their feet and roars their approval, Xandor approaches with a smile. “We have a party to attend.” He flashes the golden plate for emphasis.
“Oh, such a striking beauty you are!” Gnaeuthan, the red-haired Nebian, declares. I only just learned his name moments ago. “Tall, but not too tall, long sleek limbs.” His orange eyes roam my body from top to bottom, making my skin crawl. “Yes, and your delicate features!” He moans, as if in pain. “Hair of purest black and green eyes. Twin stars, your beauty is unbearable!”
“Um... Thanks,” I reply, distracted, scanning the immense throne room for my Xandor. I smile, seeing him talking with Logarn and Noroth, laughing and slapping each other in hearty banter. Unlike me, who’s stuck with this creep?
“You know... I’m a Consul. I watched you in the Imperial Forum, knowing I had to speak to you.” Gnaeuthan leans in, his silly large collar tapping me in the face. “How about a modeling contract? I have connections that’ll go wild for such an exotic beauty as yourself. A thousand credits a day, how does that sound, my lovely?”
I almost choke on my fruity Nebian cocktail, maybe just a tiny bit spat onto Gnaeuthan’s long collar. Thank the stars he didn’t notice. “I think that sounds ridiculous!” I declare at the outrageous amount.
Gnaeuthan’s leering smile flashes to a brief frown before he barks a laugh, “Oh, you are a shrewd one I see. How about one and half thousand credits a day? You’ll get no better offer, I assure you.”
Has this Nebian lost his voiding mind?
“Leave the poor lass alone, Gnaeuthan.” I recognize the squeaky but stern voice as my former jailor, Thalaxia. “You’re not interested, are you?” she asks, turning to me dressed in a black flowing robe with a high collar not as long as Gnaeuthan’s.
“I have no idea, I just got here!” I exclaim, feeling overwhelmed by the nosey crowd and the loud music.
“Listen Curator, I outrank you. Best—” Gnaeuthan sneers directed at Thalaxia.
“Yes, and we’re both off duty, so why don’t you void off?” Thalaxia interjects, folding her broad arms beneath her ample breasts.
Gnaeuthan recoils as if slapped. “Nobility is never off duty,” he grumbles before turning to me. “Seek me out when you want a life of riches and fame,” he offers with a nod before stalking off.
“Thanks for that,” I say to Thalaxia, breathing a sigh of relief. “Does he usually lure females in with ludicrous lies of wealth?” I ask, frowning at the retreating Gnaeuthan.
Thalaxia snorts, “Oh, no, he’s genuine. The only problem is you’d be indebted to the loathsome quark.” She takes a drink from her translucent cup. “And believe me, that’s not worth all the credits of the empire,” she laughs.
I give a short sympathetic laugh that doesn’t touch my eyes, stunned that the offer was genuine, that someone would pay me so much based on my looks alone. He knows nothing about me! Unlike Xandor who looks after me—he always does. The thought steadies and refocuses me. “It’s good to see you again, Thalaxia. What do you make of all this?” I ask, gesturing to the buzzing room filled with elaborately dressed Nebians. “You had a sneaky part to play in all this,” I suggest, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.
“Oh, my!” Thalaxia startles, her face deepening its shade of blue. She clears her throat before continuing. “I still can’t believe it.” She shakes her head and glares at me. “That you managed to break into the Imperial palace, kill the Prefect, and still negotiate a peace—I’d never believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
I smile, a sense of pride at her amazement washing over me. “We had inside help.” Not to mention having Xandor know the voiding future! “You and Felixus. So, we can’t take all the credit. Or all the blame!” I let out a giddy chuckle, feeling the potent cocktail working its tricksy ways on me.
“You’re far too modest, lass.” Thalaxia smiles, taking a generous gulp from her cup. “Do you think it’ll last? This peace, I mean.”
“Yes,” I reply without a second’s thought, looking towards Xandor. Our eyes lock, his smile mirroring mine. “Xandor says it’ll last, and I trust his word without a doubt,” I add, distracted, my heart fluttering.
Thalaxia glances between Xandor and me, giving a short laugh. “You must really love him?” she asks.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, he’s coming over here, and he’s far too scary-looking for me,” she says with a light tone, performing a bow before me. “Farewell, lass. I hope we can speak again soon.”
I tear my eyes away from Xandor, rushing to wrap my arms around Thalaxia. “Thanks for everything, Thalaxia. Enjoy the party.”
“You... you too, lass,” Thalaxia stammers, breaking our embrace with surprising haste. Her face once again turns a deep blue as she hurries away.
Strange female, or maybe it’s all Nebians?