An Rui writes first
The command tent is lit by a single crystal lamp. The man behind the folding table wears elven armor that doesn’t quite fit him; he has black hair, brown eyes and the face of someone who hasn’t slept properly in a week. Two elf knights in green flank the entrance, and outside, giant cats are purring loudly enough to shake the canvas.
“Sit, please.” He gestures at a stool and pulls a sheet of paper toward him, pen ready, like an officer taking a statement. “They tell me you saw a ship.”
He listens. When you describe the grey hull, the flat deck, the strange winged things lifting off it, his pen stops.
“Flat deck. Aircraft taking off.” He rubs his face with both hands. “That’s a carrier. That’s an actual aircraft carrier.” A short, disbelieving laugh. “And I thought I was the protagonist.”
He straightens up, all business again.
“Okay. Which direction, how far, and did you see a flag? Red, with yellow stars?”
