The Moss-Badger Lord was seated when Talia walked through the doors.
There was no gong, no herald, no waiting hall meant to impress. A guard simply guided her through and closed the doors again.
Talia followed without entourage.
The chamber was deeper within the burrows than the previous hall, cut closer to the mountain's heart. The air was cooler here, heavier with damp stone and soil. Roots webbed the ceiling like frozen veins, thick enough to support weight, thin enough to breathe. The walls bore faint marks—claw, tool, time—layered so deeply that no single generation had claimed them.
The Moss-Badger Lord glanced at her and gestured to the chair beside him at the fireplace. He did not rise. But waited till she sat and poured a glass of what seemed to be a juice of some kind.
I wonder if they have alcohol here. Talia thought as she sipped the drink.
The Moss-badger Lord had his back against a living vine pillar, his massive body folded with the patience of something that did not need to move to assert dominance. Scarred forearms rested on his knees. His fur was darker here, dampened by shadow, moss threaded through it like old growth reclaiming rock.
Talia watched as he shifted to human form in front of her and sat on the opposite fur lined chair. She inclined her head and waited, sipping her drink and watching the fire. Silence stretched—not as a test of endurance, but as calibration. When he spoke, it was without preamble.
"Winter. How much do you know?" The word landed heavy.
Talia answered honestly. "We don't know. We're learning by observation and preparing blind."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "Two moons will rise and pass. The first brings a cold and will bite shallow. The second will kill the careless."
He watched her steadily. "Where do you believe your territory begins?"
The question was not aggressive. It was foundational.
Talia exhaled slowly. "Roughly. A valley basin within the mountain ridgeline to the North-East. We have not pushed claims beyond what we can protect."
"And what do you feel," he asked, "when you step beyond it?"
She hesitated, then chose precision. "Uncomfortable and a faint resistance."
A low sound rumbled in his chest, not laughter but approval.
"Good," he said. "Then the land has acknowledged you, even if you have not learned to listen yet."
She kept her voice steady. "How does Beastworld recognise territory?"
He tapped one claw against the stone, the sound echoed softly. "Territory is not measured, it is felt. Once a deity awakens in a clan, every member can feel their land—and feel rejection from others. Borders form before markers and disputes happen when Lords refuse to listen."
"And if borders are unclear?" she asked.
"Blood clarifies them," he said simply. "Or time."
Talia absorbed that without comment.
He continued, tone unchanging. "Lord Systems are the Vaelterra Deity's method of collecting faith. They allow passage of divine power and delegate territory. They remain unless the owner ascends to a high enough Rank and becomes a lesser Deity, or if a clan war breaks the keystone and lastly if the Lord personally relinquishes control."
It was information delivered without preamble, a simple instruction, not boast. She realised then—quietly—that he was explaining origins, not enforcing them.
"Otherworlders," he said next. "Are they common where you came from?"
"No," Talia replied. "We came here unprepared."
"Here," he said, "they arrive every thousand years or so. Refills the population and stirs the stagnation. Your group is irregular."
His eyes sharpened slightly. "Which means a bargain was struck between deities."
She did not deny it.
"Our deities were informed," he continued. "We were told to leave your clans untouched until you initiated contact."
That sent a ripple through her chest that she did not outwardly show.
"You chose the mountain," he said. "Why?"
"Shelter," she answered. "Thermal stability for winter. Defensibility for the unknown and quick settlement."
"And food sources?" he pressed.
"We hunt, we farm what we can and preserve aggressively. We also have an internal ration system when needed."
"Stored goods rot," he said. "Even here."
"We know," she replied. "We're planning accordingly."
He studied her for a long moment. "Those lands once belonged to a Shelled-Worm Clan. They angered a ruling neighbour and their keystone was broken. You will be safe there."
A pause.
"Do not over-secure and under-feed," he added. "Clans starve behind walls faster than they fall to claws."
Talia inclined her head. "We've learned that lesson the hard way in our old world."
She chose her next words carefully.
"This may appear an offensive question," she said, "but I need an answer for the safety of both our clans."
He did not interrupt.
"What defines a beast, and a beastkin?"
The air changed.
Not hostility—but attention sharpened, like a blade being set down deliberately.
"Humans have never encountered shapeshifting beings," Talia continued. "Ignorance is dangerous. I have ordered my people to hunt only those that attack first, but that is a stopgap. I need a definitive understanding."
The Moss-Badger Lord did not bristle. Instead, he nodded slowly.
"We tell each other apart by divine power," he said. "And you will too—once you accept a deity."
She did not respond immediately.
"Beasts contain divine power," he continued. "They cannot control it whereas Beastkin manipulates it."
He lifted one hand slightly. "Fire-boars burn because divine flame leaks through them. They cannot wield it so they are beasts. The Forest Boar Clan moves the woods aside as they charge. They shape growth so they are beastkin."
"Intelligence?" she asked.
He leaned forward slightly. "Below S Rank, beasts lack judgement. They cannot assess strength unless it is projected and they cannot communicate. At S Rank and above, the line blurs. Such beings are beasts in flesh only."
He fixed her with a steady gaze. "Beastkin are people who wear fur. Beasts are natural forces wearing flesh."
The words lodged deep.
"If humans blur this line under pressure," he added quietly. "It will be a deadly mistake."
She let that sit.
"Deities," she said next. "And faith."
He watched her carefully now.
"Dieties are natural beings," he said. "Faith is not a type of worship, it is a relationship. Choosing no deity can happen—but it's dangerous long-term."
"Can territories accept more than one?"
"Yes. One main any others are subordinate—if the land tolerates it."
He tilted his head slightly. "Has something already answered you?"
The question was soft. Talia did not answer, he did not press.
"Rituals connect the deity to the clan," he said instead. "They stabilise the divine power and share it among the clan. Not all clan members will awaken and forcing faith fractures clans. Rational minds will awaken last—or the deepest."
"And leaders?" she asked.
"Must awaken first," he said. "Or not at all."
Silence followed.
"Strength attracts attention," he said finally. "Rapid growth, rare resources and unusual deities. Neutrality is temporary."
She met his gaze. "We intend to stay small."
"For now its good." he agreed. "Who watches your borders?"
"Regular patrols," she said.
That earned her a faint, approving rumble.
They spoke of trade next. What would be offered, what never would and emergency aid would be rare.
"If we save your people," he said, "you owe us forever. If we trade, we owe each other nothing."
She accepted that without a flinch.
Then his gaze sharpened again—not hostile, but probing.
"How do you choose your leaders?" he asked.
"Competence," she replied. "Trust and Peer support."
"And dissent?"
"We tolerate it," she said. "Until it endangers others."
"Punishment?"
"Conditional."
"Exile?"
"If necessary."
"And when they disobey you?"
Talia did not rush her answer. "We remind them what survival costs."
The Moss-Badger Lord regarded her in silence.
"Mercy builds loyalty," he said at last. "It also builds knives."
She inclined her head. "I know."
He rose then, ending the meeting by movement alone.
"Winter reveals liars," he said. "Your people will bleed before they unite. When blood falls on claimed land, the land remembers."
He turned away without waiting for a response. Talia remained where she was until the weight of his presence fully receded. When she left the chamber, the mountain felt heavier around her.
Not hostile but aware.