Evander:
"Also... don't you know what those people are called?"
Alpha:
"Searching historical, galactic, and xenological records... No matches found. Species unclassified."
Evander:
"They're called Elves."
Alpha:
"'Elves'... Cross-referencing with Earth cultural archives... Match found."
Alpha's eyes glow briefly as it processes.
Alpha:
"'Elf' — humanoid species originating from ancient Earth mythologies. Common descriptors: pointed ears, long lifespan, forest affinity, enhanced agility, and magical capabilities. Categorized as fictional."
Evander:
"Well, they don't look so fictional now, do they?"
Alpha:
"Correct. Updating classification: 'Earth-Origin Mythical Species – Confirmed Real.' Proceeding with standard procedure: capture, vivisection, and xenobiological analysis. Full internal mapping and energy signature extraction will begin upon retrieval."
Evander:
"W-what does that mean...?"
Alpha:
"It means we open them up and—"
Evander:
"WAIT—WAIT—NO! You're NOT tearing them apart like frogs in a science class!"
Alpha:
"...Amending directive. Interrogation and live-sample observation protocols queued instead."
Evander:
(Why does that somehow sounds worse—)
Alpha:
"Also noted: Earth mythology portrays elves as archers, nature-worshippers, and wielders of light-based magic. Shall I initiate projectile resistance testing?"
Evander:
"NO!"
Alpha:
"Affirmed. What are your orders, My Lord?"
Evander:
"F-for now... is there a way to talk to them?"
Alpha:
"We can dispatch a trooper to initiate communication. A hologram projection will be displayed via the trooper for real-time interaction."
Evander:
"Good. Let's do that."
Alpha:
"Deploying trooper. Hologram uplink initializing. You will have both visual and vocal connection."
Cut to the planet's surface:
A lone armored trooper walks toward the gates of the elven village. Villagers stand ready, eyes wary—some with glowing staves, others with bows drawn. Magic hums in the air.
The trooper raises both hands—unarmed.
Elven Guard Captain (narrowing eyes):
"What is that... thing?"
The trooper activates a device on its chest. A hologram of Evander appears above it, flickering slightly due to interference.
Evander (projected):
"Uhh... Greetings! I come in peace!"
The elves murmur in confusion.
Elven Guard Captain:
"It speaks... their leader?"
Evander (to Alpha, off-screen):
"Are they understanding me?"
Alpha (in earpiece):
"Real-time linguistic adaptation in progress. Language comprehension at 63%."
Evander (back to the elves):
"We mean no harm! We want to talk. Exchange knowledge... and not melt anyone."
A pause. Then an elder steps forward.
Elven Elder:
"...Very well, stranger of stars. Come speak, if your tongue is as peaceful as your tone."
Alpha:
"They've agreed to speak with you, my Lord."
Evander:
"That's great! Let's go, then."
Inside the village:
As the trooper walks in, every eye follows. Tension and fear fill the air. Children peek from behind curtains; warriors keep their weapons close.
Later
Inside the chief's house — a wooden structure laced with glowing roots and arcane markings — the trooper kneels. The hologram flickers into life once again.
Village Chief:
"Thal'ri en Vasyl, kos Veyandrel... Bzzzt... I am Veyandrel, Chief of the Ail'vannar."
Evander:
"Nice to meet you, Veyandrel. I'm Evander Ashborn. The... Emperor, I guess?"
A beat of silence. Alpha's voice buzzes softly in his ear.
Alpha (whispering):
"Communication efficiency at 68%. Linguistic gaps detected. Cultural interpretations unclear."
Veyandrel (confused):
"Ash... burn? Ash-blood...? Emperor? That word means 'sky tyrant' in the old tongue..."
Evander (internally):
(Greeeaaat. I'm already off to a bad start.)
The room goes quiet. Eyes narrow.
Evander:
"Uhh... I'm not a tyrant. I come in... peace?"
Veyandrel:
"Peas? You come... bearing vegetables?"
Elven guards begin whispering in confusion.
Evander (whispers):
"Alpha... PLEASE tell me that was just a translation error."
Alpha:
"Confirmed. The word 'peace' shares phonetic overlap with agricultural terms in this dialect."
Evander (nervously smiling):
"Not peas. Not vegetables. Peace. Calm. Friendship."
Veyandrel (pauses, then nods slowly):
"...Friend... ship."
He places a hand to his chest, then extends it outward.
Veyandrel:
"If sky-man comes as friend... then Ail'vannar listens."