Pulling my chair out for me to sit in, Ramma went through all the normal
duties of host with great ease, and within a few moments we were eating
heartily from a great dish of boiled potatoes that had been brought in
by a servant, or rather, a deputy minister of state, for such was his
title. We did little talking before we ate, because I was greatly
famished and as such was ill-inclined to be jovial, not that I was
sullen, but I found it hard to be completely relaxed without a full
stomach. Yet when that was remedied and I found myself satisfied and
comfortable in a warm dwelling, I opened up to Ramma and we had a long
and entertaining discussion, some of which I will record here, as it
shines a little more light upon the mysteries of my story:

"So, my dear Jehu," Ramma began, "I trust your stay on Daem has so far
been enjoyable."

I chuckled quietly and told him, "No, not entirely, for there is a war
afoot on Daem, or at least there seemed to be, and it made quite a bit
of trouble for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied, "But also gratified, for it will
help us in our offensive if they are against each other as well as us.
Still, it will be hard."

"What offensive is that?" I asked, my interest being perked.

"Our jihad, to capture the lands which were meant for us and reclaim
them from the filth that now inhabit them. You are our kinsman redeemer,
Jehu, but it is not with your presence alone that we will be brought
victory, for we also must act. Ever since the prophecy was given we have
been preparing for a strike that will catch the Zards and Canitaurs by