The dodads arrived two nights ago. They came in those strange, poorly made boats without a sail. Damn things rowed their way to this island. Simon told me it is because they are stupid, a race only bent on destroying anything they perceive as a threat. An insectoid hive mind of subpar intelligence. I don’t believe that is the case. Not from my observation of them.

  None wear clothing, instead they wear tight pieces of cloth around their limbs. I suppose they do that to indicate their own standing in society. They are bipedal with unguligrade legs, their carapace is a sandy yellow with blue lines tattooed all over their bodies, and they have three stubby fingers on each hand. Their two antennae flicker and click; it’s funny to watch how they would spasm when the cold breeze brushes over them. They are two feet shorter than me, and skinny too like they are constantly malnourished. Their preparations, come to think of it, are weird. Their arms from the hands to the elbow are as wide as their chest, while their waist is thin enough that I believe I wrap my fingers around it. The only expressive feature on their face are those two large eyes. They are like mine. They have an iris in an assortment of colours and a pupil. The dodads might blink vertically, but they seem kind.

  I can’t read the faces of the dodads as I can with the Cinari or my fellow Dogs. But I can read their eyes. They are curious about this place, they seemed to hate the cold as much as anyone. I can hardly blame them; they are not wearing anything to help. But some seem sad, like they miss their home, and others seem overjoyed that they are out of there. Such a curious bunch.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ Sydny stands next to me, catching me watching two dodads interacting in the garden while they communicate with one another through rhythmic clicking.

  I rub my tired eyes before I give a reply. ‘Not much, just trying to understand them before I talk to their diplomat tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, did you talk to them?’

  ‘I can’t understand them, they make these clicking sounds but that’s it. I don’t know if they can understand me.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sydney leans into a pillar. ‘So, besides that, what do you know about them?’

  ‘I suppose they came from Ishtu, they are part of the tribe called the Blues, and they are violent and stupid.’

  ‘Do you even believe any of that?’

  ‘No,’ I bluntly admit. ‘Simon told me those things; he said they would be easy to negotiate with.’

  ‘But you can’t understand each other.’

  I give her a shrug, ‘Simon says the dodads brought an interpreter with them. But I am forbidden to speak with them before negotiations.’ I look back at her. ‘What about you? How are you doing?’

  Sydny’s expression becomes sour, like I said something that struck at her soul. ‘I need to sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’ She says before she makes her way to bed.

  Fair enough, the question is still a bit too hot to talk about right now. Not when we are both living at a time of uncertainty. Especially after I admit to her what happened at the mine.

  The choice I made at Letharus was the easy option. There is no denying that. No matter how correct it is or how necessary I make it sound with maintaining peace in the South and to keep my rule. I willingly executed those people without second guessing. How can I believe myself to be a worthy father if I am willing to murder all of those people? Just for the idea of a better future.

  Simon is right to be angry at me, I am too. What I did was necessary, but that doesn’t make it right.

  The two dodads finish talking to each other and depart to their quarters that I lent to them. But besides heading to the door, they walk under to the second-story balcony to their room. The first one bent their legs back, giving them enough spring to jump to the balcony. Their friend jumps after them.

  ‘Holy shit!’ I mumble to myself. They jumped 14 feet from the ground to the balcony! I have to say that is very impressive.

  They notice my shocked expression, and in response, give a little wave. I wave back, knowing that they think the whole thing is funny with how their mandibles are clicking humorously. That is, if the sound of someone randomly slapping sticks together is the equivalent to a dodad's laugh.

  I sit on my throne waiting for the dodad diplomats to engage in dialogue with me. Simon waits by my side and acts calmer than in the last diplomatic interaction with an outside entity. It’s good to see that he is confident with the dodads, but he is coming off as arrogant. I just hope his judgment isn’t clouded.

  Max is also here, wearing her usual extravagant dresses. I don’t think the bugs will care what she is wearing. More likely, they will look at her weirdly because the clothing is tailored for her. Perhaps they see it as a waste of cloth? I can’t be too sure.

  Thorgan has taken a day off, wanting to get some rest after working hard. I allowed the old man to have a day off, even if it is during a crucial time. But if Simon is correct about the Dodads, there shouldn’t be any problems on our end.

  Two Dogs swing the throne doors open, allowing the two diplomats to walk up to my throne to bow before me. The dodad looks older, her features, well, I assume is a woman, looks more defined and complex than the other dodads that I’ve seen. She has more tattoos on her body. Instead, the usual blue tattoos are more of a copper green. Her exoskeleton seems to be rougher and has more layers along the waist and chest area.

  My heart flutters and my face burns in embarrassment at the translator, the dodads brought with them. A naked human woman, with her dark brown skin, has her red hair tied in a braid. Like the dodads, she has the blue lines tattooed on her skin.

  Besides the awkwardness, I notice they both have a rag tied on their right leg. Though she won’t admit it, the naked human seems cold. Yet she is doing her best to hide her shiver.

  The dodad moves her mandibles, creating an array of clicking sounds. The translator turns to me after she gives an acknowledged nod to their friend. ‘Before we introduce ourselves, I want to thank you for giving us an audience. As you can also tell, the dodads are unable to speak our language except their own. But do not fret, they understand what we are saying. I will interpret what they say to me and relay it to you.’ The woman gestures to me. ‘So, don’t worry. You don’t need to ask me to translate anything for them, but if you said something that confused them, I will make sure to provide them with a summary to avoid any miscommunications. I hope you understand.’

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  I stutter, trying not to distract myself with her naked form. ‘I… uh. Of course. I understand. But I also want to know if it is necessary for you to be naked during our negotiations?’

  The dodad gives me an annoyed look, but the human quickly explains before the bug can speak. Already, I can tell I am off to a bad start.

  ‘The dodads are a traditional bunch and want me to represent their society as best as possible. In Ishtu, clothing is a sign of status and occupation. If I wear a jacket or pants, it will give the people of the wastes convoluting messages. Clothing to them is also not important, like it is to you or I; their bodies can survive the elements just fine. But in case you are wondering, this is for formal purposes. I do have something to wear when I am not translating for them, if you are concerned about my health. The dodads see me as a valuable asset to their community, and they do their best to look after me.’

  Interesting, so it is what I thought. I want to ask what the cloth on their leg means so I can better understand their culture, but Simon taps on my shoulder to give me a warning. ‘It’s best not to ask questions about the topic, they are often sensitive about it.’

  I give him a nod. In that case, I will drop the topic. ‘Thank you for the explanation,’ I say to the translator. ‘I apologise if I cause any offence to you or your people.’

  The dodad looks surprised before they speak to their interpreter. ‘They thank you for your consideration, they thought you were already aware of the dodads and their culture.’

  ‘Not at all, for most of my life I was underground. The world and the people who live in it are all new to me. Not so long ago, I met my first human. However, I do promise to try to understand the various species and nationalities who set foot within my throne room. Though I am ignorant of the world, that doesn’t mean I won’t try to understand. But enough about my life, I believe we have delayed negotiations long enough. I'd like to know the names of the people I am talking to.’

  ‘I am Trist, the translator of the Blues. The one standing next to me is A’tesh, the Outer-Voice of the Blues.’ Trist gestures to the dodad.

  I place a hand on my chest to introduce myself, ‘I am Alex, Regent of the South. The man next to me is Simon, my advisor. The woman in the dress is Max, the General of my Army.’

  A’tesh examines Max with an unsatisfied gaze, then she speaks to her translator. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you. Fortunately, our negotiations are short.’

  Simon smiles, knowing that he is right about the dodads. He explained to me that they will only do this out of formality to make themselves look like a legit presence in the world and not a backwater wasteland.

  Trist continues what A’tesh says to them. ‘We came here to represent the United Colonies of Ishtu. We speak on behalf of the nations of Rolda, Dal, Wruz, Orok, Palk, and all nomadic communities within Ishtu. Under the interest of the Blues and the recognised authority of Empress Rebecca. The Blues and their allies have declared war on the rebellious forces on the side of Empress Rebecca. After we have spoken with the proper officials of the Cinaris Empire, we will head back to our lands. By the time we return to Ishtu, our fleets will be sent to the island of Cinaris to begin a ground invasion.’

  No, oh by everything good, no! This is worse than I can imagine. This should be a peace talk, not a declaration of war!

  Simon turns pale, and Max is frozen in shock. No one expects this. No one wants this!

  I clear my throat, trying to contain the situation. ‘I happen to let you know that we are also Cinari. War against me will be war against the Empress.’

  Trist swiftly responds to me without any prompt from A’tesh. ‘That is only true if we desire to take land; our intentions are only to aid a given side through military means. However, in accordance with international law, we are obligated to announce our declaration of war before we can leave our homes.’ Trist gives off a subtle sigh like she regrets giving me the news. A’tesh speaks to Trist, ‘peace is not an option, Alex. But we will accept your surrender to avoid any bloodshed.’ A’tesh speaks longer than before for such a simple message. I can only assume it is to comfort Trist or to relay instructions on what to do. I’m not sure

  I shake my head, another war to face, a new front to be opened. ‘Surrender is not an option.’

  ‘Then there is nothing more to discuss. We will depart in two days.’ A’tesh gives a ceremonial bow before the two diplomats leave the throne room.

  I don’t know what it means, but I can tell it isn’t done out of malice. Perhaps they are saying goodbye, I’m not sure.

  Simon sits down by the foot of my throne while he cups his mouth. ‘By the Gods.’ He mumbles to himself, unable to process what the dodads did.

  Max approaches me with both hands clenched into a fist. ‘While you two freak out, I will get our armies ready to fight those fucking bugs. Oh, and while you’re at it. I suggest you look into reinstating slavery to be harsher. We need to prepare, and we need resources if we want to win against them.’ She storms out of the throne room. I can almost hear her call me a stupid cunt under her breath.

  I can’t blame her, this negotiation wasn’t a negotiation but one big bad news. We are going to lose, and Max is right. If we have a chance of fighting against them, we need slavery to be harsher to produce the resources necessary to survive the onslaught. I have to make the Cinari suffer. I need to take a step back to end the very thing I want to break free from.

  Simon and I leave the throne room, refusing to talk to each other. It is clear that we need to clear our heads before we make any decisions. Another war to fight, especially when most of our soldiers are sent up north. Dark days are coming, and I am not prepared to deal with them.