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his crew. It seemed incredibly important to him that everyone be spoken to politely. Chord had once told Jessie that Pax Common was a far less emotionally powerful dialect; hearing Morwyn speak, she could see why that would be the case.
    â€œGo to the cantina with Doctor Varsin. Right now, you need to stay out of sight until told otherwise.”
    â€œI can make my way to there.” Jessie stepped past Morwyn. “And I’ll try not to be the stick in your wheel.”
    Morwyn shot her a confused look. “I do not know what that means.”
    Jessie walked away from him. “Of course you don’t.”

 
    CHAPTER 7
    DOMIANT
    The greater the prey, the more cunning required to fell it.
    â€”­Uldur saying, dates and authors unknown
    20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E
    C rimson Ginseng root had been dried and used in teas by Wolvers since its discovery on Uldur during the days of the First Expansion. The Elvrids had learned that it had the property of calming the nerves, boosting one’s immune system and improving the memory, and they drank infusions of it regularly. Domiant had found that Crimson Ginseng had a very hard cinnamon flavor; it was not at all unpleasant. Fortunately for him, prior to his forced departure from home his mother had made sure their ship pantry was stocked with a more than generous amount of it.
    He was quickly finding that there were many comforts he could do without while traversing the cosmos trapped in the Althena without losing his composure. However, one day without his regular Crimson Ginseng tea would no doubt have caused him enough mental anguish to harm someone with his own hands.
    It was their third day in slipspace and it was these jumps that were particularly dull. The ship portholes were all closed and they were effectively all stuck in a tight six-­room living space traversing the cosmos with no view of the outside world. Niko Taem had taken to preparing his gear and weapons for what he no doubt was expecting to be an incredibly violent operation. Mikali and Jerkol Loc were in the cockpit, spending long days and sleepless nights as they desperately tried to reach their destination within Domiant’s time frame. Zanza had kept to herself in the kitchen, not even offering Domiant or Sopherim so much as a glance during their brief interactions.
    All in all, discourse between Domiant and his crew had been minimal, just the way he liked it. Sopherim had been her usual silent self, spending her days going through her stretches and combat katas and preparing her blades and armor for the assault on the Jinxed Thirteenth . Like Pax Slayer, her armor had been given a name after its forging by the legendary metalsmiths of Troy. “Wolf Maiden” was an intricately ornate reenforced laminate steel armor, fully segmented, each piece painstakingly crafted by hand. The metal had been dyed a dark shade of purple with golden lining. The war helmet was forged with a mouth guard that resembled the snarl of a wolf.
    Wolf Maiden had also been designed with dozens of leather sheathes for various knives. Today, Sopherim was looking over her armor’s various thick leather straps and running her fingers along the sharpened edges of her gauntlets. “Treat your weapons right and they will do the same for you, brother.”
    The Wolvers of Troy were not as fortunate as those of Uldur. Where the latter boasted one of the richest biodiverse planets in the known cosmos, the former had not been as lucky. Unable to breed miracles like the living skinsuits, yet still bound to the Elvrid laws of the Living Green with regards to using Machina-­made technology, the Wolvers of Troy had been forced to adapt and use what they had at their disposal, a near limitless supply of various metals and ores. Where Uldur could create new breeds of life, the metalsmiths of Troy were capable of crafting anything from razor sharp blades, to pistols, to ships, all by hand, with the ores they