✴

“We will accept your offer. Let us discuss the terms,” you& say.

“How reasonable,” Ganymedastræa says. The æther shifts around you, and a glass table manifests between you, with chairs to sit in, floating on the dimensionless space. “We shall negotiate a contract.”

If there is one thing your moms taught you, besides handling guns, it is negotiating a contract. You take your hallucinatory seat.

“I need assurances,” you say.

“Name your terms.”

“You two, the sages of Time and Stars, and any apprentices or allies you have, will make no further attempt to capture or harm me,” you say.

“We agree.”

“You also will not harm my friends, lovers, family, or other close associates, or target them in any way.”

“If so, your little club’s activities against the Chosen of ÆON must only target our adversaries. We shall each be the sole arbiter of where those lines are drawn for our own side,” they& say.

“We can agree to that, I think,” you& say.

“Understand, however, our adversaries are deceptive, and if they discover our alliance they will use any means to break it,” they& say.

“Should we keep this a secret from them, then?”

“It may be wise, but it raises a further question. Should we consider a mutual defensive agreement, to both our benefit? Or shall we avoid the complications that come with it, the risk of triggering open civil war between the Sages,” they& say.

“I think...”