The next day, at the far end of the colony, in a small plantation worked by free Black men and elves, the owner—an elf named Hunka Henkel—was in one of the workshops, reviewing with two technicians how to repair a machine used to extract juice from red fruits.
One of the technicians, a Black man, suggested remaking the damaged part in a workshop located somewhere in the Thirteen Colonies. The other, a blue-haired elven woman, suggested ordering the part from the Other Side.
"Which option is more viable, Jeremiah? Any ideas?" Hunka finally asked.
"Taking the part to a specialist I know would take about a week. He's all the way in Albany," Jeremiah replied.
"We can't wait that long," said Hunka. "Any proposals, Anya?" he asked the elf.
"In that case, we'd have to request it from the Other Side," said Anya. "But just reaching the Vortex would take a full day, and picking it up in Aternum would take several more..."
"We could try welding it," Jeremiah suggested. "I can't guarantee it will work, but it might solve the problem for now. Still... there's a risk."
Hunka paused, weighing the options. At that moment, his pocket began to vibrate. The elf reached in, pulled out a mobile device, and checked the screen: a message from the governor.
He excused himself and stepped out of the workshop to read it. After a long sigh, he returned.
"Do what you need to do. I'm heading to Iant-Oerelben."
"Nothing serious, I hope?" Anya asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Have I ever been summoned for something good?"
"Uncle Hunka, is there a problem with the Neighbors?"
The elf looked at his niece and pressed his lips together.
"As far as I know, everything's fine. But we don't know how long that will last… I don't like how often the British have been crossing the river and moving into our lands."
"That's what Takoda said too. The Cherokee chiefs are worried... They fear the border will be breached any day now."
Hunka inhaled deeply and looked out over the fields and the dark silhouette of the distant woods.
"Do me a favor... avoid the forest boundaries, especially the far side of the river. I can smell something in the air… and I don't like it."
With that, he left.
An hour later, Hunka was descending the stairs into the front hall, ready to leave on his trip, when he found his niece Anya and a teenage elf named Tut waiting with Melissa, the house servant—a dark-skinned woman with a reserved manner who looked at him with a mixture of concern and affection.
They had been talking, speculating about the sudden trip to the city, but when they saw him appear at the top of the stairs, they fell silent.
"Well, what are you all doing here?" Hunka said upon reaching the ground floor, taking the travel bag from the servant's hands.
"We wanted to say goodbye," Anya replied with a smile. "Are you coming back tomorrow?"
"That's the plan... though with the governor, you never know," Hunka said, taking the tricorn hat the boy held out to him.
"Uncle, can I come with you? I can't remember the last time I went to Iant-Oerelben," Tut said quickly.
"Some other time. For now, I need you both to take care of the plantation work. Anya, keep an eye on the machine repairs, or we won't be able to fulfill the orders."
"I'm on it, Uncle Hunka... I just worry whenever the governor summons you. It's always about some big mess."
"You're not the only one concerned, Melissa," he said, turning to the servant. "Do you need anything from Iant-Oerelben?"
The woman smiled.
"Only that you come back safe and sound, sir," she said with a small bow. "But if possible, bring back some of those lisan buns..."
"Liss bain beril," the boy corrected.
Melissa nodded with a soft eye-roll and handed Hunka a leather satchel packed with some provisions for the road. Hunka thanked her.
"Keep the house in order for me… you know how Tut can be."
"Don't worry, sir. Everything will be in order by the time you return," Melissa said.
The elf bid his family farewell and stepped onto the porch, followed by the others. A servant had his mount ready. Hunka climbed up in silence, but before spurring the horse, he cast one last look at the family waving from the porch.
They didn't know it, but he sensed this journey would change more than just the plantation's shipment schedules.
Hunka Henkel was an elf who, on the Other Side of the Sun—in a world called Midgard—had once lived the life of a pirate, raiding airships in the northern skies. Back then, they called him Captain Skippy, a nickname he personally despised.
Later, he became a mercenary in the wars of both worlds, even leading a rebellion against the former governor of Sylvandria—an act that helped bring the colony under the current elven company's rule.
As a reward for his loyalty, he received several bags of gold and a vast tract of land on the colony's frontier, where he dedicated himself to cultivating elven turnips and red berries. A portion of that harvest was processed into wines and beverages exported to the Other Side—a trade far more profitable (and far less risky) than piracy ever was.