Walking toward a reinforced chamber hidden by the singed husk of an armored vehicle of some kind, a trophy from a CO/IN defeat, they passed a line of security who stiffened when they saw them. Their weapons slung haphazardly across them, a guard wearing a bored expression challenged them. Fela and Epyc Ro exchanged wary glances. Fela shifted her weight, a subtle move preparing for anything to go down. Epyc Ro’s steely gaze reminded the commander of someone taking out her earrings in preparation to throw hands. Gripping and regripping their weapons—which they held at their sides—the HOVA understood that they risked walking into an ambush once they decided to follow Ellis. But if they were going to gather enough intel to make informed decisions, they had to proceed. A moment passed between them all, a held breath. Nodding to them, the guards parted.

Waving them through the entrance, Ellis!Olinger ducked his head to step through another bolt door. He held it open for them. A regal figure relaxed at the center of the room, flanked by two seated others. Cloths wrapped them, made of finer material, more like silk and much, much cleaner than the clothing worn by the people above. The elder stood. At first, they had a bowed stoop though their spine seemed to straighten the more they took Fela in. Extending their hand, she received it. Their grip was dry, with a cat’s-tongue grittiness. They mirrored her expression, their smile resembling the broken grin of a barracuda. The other two remained motionless, their hands empty, yet kept in plain sight. One smoked a hand-rolled cigar of some sort. The cave had eyes and the walls had ears. They were under a microscope, observed and studied. Eyes lurked all about her from the shadows. Without so much as a nod, their fingers had unlocked their weapons and needed only an enemy’s move for them to unleash. Bodyguards with iceberg eyes, cold and unyielding. Unlike the security upstairs, they were poised, each movement parsed with intent. The chieftain gestured for Fela to take a seat. She recalled her first-contact security protocols. Fela sat directly across from the chieftain. Epyc Ro remained standing, at parade rest, behind her.

“I am called Fela Buhari,” she said, now mad at herself that she didn’t have Robin alongside her to consult her wisdom in cultural affairs. Fela didn’t even know enough to guess whether the host or the guest was to speak first without causing offense.

“You may call us Natan!Olinger.” Succulent smoke sweetened the air as they inhaled from a strange pipe. “We apologize for having to meet this way.”

“We understand the need for precaution. We are armed strangers in your land,” Fela said.

“And our first visitors were not as … congenial. Thank you for demonstrating such trust.” Natan’s posture relaxed, almost as if her acknowledgment and frankness were a peace offering.