They were led deeper into the burrow, away from the regularly trafficked halls, into corridors where sound softened and footsteps no longer echoed. The air here grew warmer, steadier, scented faintly with resin and clean water rather than musk and stone-dust. Moss-Badger guards flanked them in silence, massive shapes filling the passage without ever crowding it.
At the final threshold, most of the guards peeled away without ceremony, remaining guard outside the building, only two followed inside.
"Deepway Lord, these are your lodgings, should they suit you." The Lord's mate spoke.
A guard opened the door and stood aside, Talia stepped through first.
The suite beyond was unmistakably private, not by ornament or excess, but by intention. The stone here had been shaped with a craftsman's patience, smoothed just enough to catch the lamplight and return it softly, without glare or harsh reflection. The walls seemed to breathe warmth rather than cold, their curves subtle, deliberate—less carved than persuaded into form. Moss-wood furnishings anchored the space, their dark grain polished to a muted sheen that absorbed light instead of demanding it, breaking the severity of the stone with a quiet, living texture. The air carried a faint mineral warmth, undercut by the clean, green scent of treated wood and heated water.
Beyond a partial stone partition, the bathing room waited in gentle invitation: steam curled lazily upward, blurring the edges of the space, the water already warmed and stirred as if anticipating use rather than announcing it. The sound of it—soft, steady, contained—settled into the room like a promise of relief.
Near the centre, a low sitting area had been carved directly from the rock itself, the stone hollowed and smoothed into a natural basin lined with thick, dark cushions layered for comfort rather than display. It was a place meant for stillness, for thinking, for the quiet shedding of armour both literal and unseen.
From this central space, two smaller chambers branched away at opposing angles, their entrances discreet, their proportions restrained. They were clearly intended for attendants or guards—close enough to respond at a moment's notice, far enough to preserve the sanctity of solitude.
The suite did not flaunt status; it enforced it through control, through separation, through the simple certainty that this space existed for one purpose only: rest without vulnerability, privacy without isolation.
Behind her, the rest of the group was redirected by the guard.
A different door for a different status. Sentinels had a less impressive room than the Lord but better than the general staff, who shared a Communal chamber.
They caught only a glimpse of it as it opened: a long, communal chamber. Clean, well-kept and mixed gendered. Simple bedding was arranged with careful efficiency on the wooded bed frames. There were no fancy decorations or luxury, no apologies offered for the plain room that could be considered an insult. No explanation given at all.
The small group glanced in each room as they made their way back to Talia. Each carried their own thoughts as they entered the sitting area. The doors closed between the spaces with a soft, final sound.
Talia stood still for a moment, letting the calibration settle.
Diplomacy, hygiene, privacy and luxury all existed here—but only for those whose role required it. Rank was neither cruel nor kind, it was functional. This society was not savage, it was not an insult, it was ordered and precise.
She turned and gestured to the side chambers. "Dav. Tegan."
They moved immediately, claiming the offset rooms without comment. When the Moss-Badger guards observed the choice, they showed no surprise at all, just observing their actions without comment.
The Lord's Mate bowed, "Deepway Lord, I will wait outside while you rest. I will guide you to my Mate in 10 minutes, would that be acceptable to you?"
Talia nodded her acceptance and the Moss-badger group backed out. When the main door sealed, the change was immediate.
The sound of the burrow dulled as if wrapped in cloth. Distant movement became a suggestion rather than a presence. The sense of being watched—constant since they entered the village—eased just enough to notice its absence.
They were, for a brief window, outside direct observation.
Talia didn't pace or sit, she stood at the centre of the room, posture relaxed but grounded, and looked at each of them in turn.
"Ten minutes," she said calmly. "We use all of it."
No one wasted time asking why. The room shifted—not into panic, but into focus.
Evan spoke first. "Hierarchy is rigid, but consistent. Power flows in one direction, there seems to be no internal scrambling."
Annika followed. "Lords aren't negotiators here, they're the anchors. Once acknowledged, others will move around them to complete it."
Dom added his voice low. "Gender roles are strict, but not inflexible and they can be of high status." Nodding to Talia.
Tegan's contribution was clinical. "Health standards are high. Clean water, controlled diet, regular grooming and winter preparedness is embedded in daily life."
Dav folded his arms. "They're not hostile but they're measuring us. Constantly."
Silence fell briefly.
Then Evan straightened, shoulders squared. "I owe you an apology, addressing their Lord directly was a mistake."
It was a formal apology with no defensiveness. Talia cut in immediately.
"No," she said, evenly. "It was reconnaissance. We now know how absolute Lord-status is here. I underestimated that boundary. That's on me."
The effect of her admission was immediate. Evan's tension eased—not erased, but redirected. The weight of error shifted where it belonged. No shame lingered to fester and her authority wasn't undermined. Information acquired and a cost was paid. Lesson learned, move on.
She continued, "We were not punished. That's what matters."
A pause, then she dropped the observation that changed the shape of the room.
"The Lord's mate spoke to me, didn't you notice?"
The reaction was instantaneous. Every head turned.
"What?" Annika breathed, Then "On the way here, while guiding." she said. "It was so normal, I forgot about the laws here."
The group also recalled then and the implications rippled outward.
Evan frowned, thinking aloud now. "So… the taboo applies only in formal, public authority contexts."
Dom nodded slowly. "Delegated or private authority allows flexibility."
Annika's eyes sharpened. "Initial contact requires Lord-to-Lord recognition, after legitimacy is established, interaction decentralises."
Dav exhaled. "Which means they don't expect Lords to micromanage."
"They expect them to authorize," Talia finished.
Understanding settled like a lock clicking into place. This world did not revolve around constant political performance, it ran on acknowledged structure. Once a Lord was recognised, systems were trusted to function and run.
It was a model Deepway was already halfway built for.
Talia let the moment breathe, then spoke again.
"They're helping us." No one interrupted.
"Subtly," she continued. "Allowing mistakes, letting us observe and experience, they are showing the boundaries instead of cutting us off. An unstable neighbour is dangerous to everyone, they'd rather help shape us than crush us."
She met each of their gazes. "Observe, learn and absorb all you can. They are testing us—and teaching us."
No one argued. She moved straight into assignments.
"Dav. Find your soldier counterpart. Learn about defensive doctrine, patrol logic, hunting boundaries and beast dens. Pay attention to how they define territory, not just where."
Dav inclined his head once.
"Evan, Annika. Trade knowledge and centres. Currency exchange, what holds value, what moves fast and what doesn't. No winter provision trades, even if offered and only limited salt purchase. Try and trade for books, seeds and common-world tools."
Both nodded, already aligning tasks between them.
"Tegan. You're on medicinal plants only. We want to learn about healing practices, cold-season treatments and anything scalable. We need to set up a sustainable health practice."
Tegan's eyes lit with quiet focus.
"Dom stays with me."
No discussion needed.
"The rest of you," she added, turning to the remaining guards, "shadow the civilians. Observe local customs. Try to prevent missteps and learn what's normal around here."
She paused, then finished cleanly. "Dinner or when summoned. We'll reconvene with what we have learned."
She stood first, Dom moved with her without being told. The others followed, purposeful, unhurried.
The ten minutes were up. As the door opened and the sounds of the burrow flowed back in, Talia felt the shift settle inside her. They had entered this place uncertain and reactive, now they left the room steadier. Deepway was no longer guessing how the world worked.
They were learning.