ARC 6-Winter War-63
Kierra sweeps her gaze over the table, her smile stretching wider. “I give thanks for inviting me to your table and your battle. I understand the sacredness of a blood feud and what it means to allow others to interfere. I will repay your trusts with a mountain of corpses.”
“Haha, that’s the spirit!” Kalise shouts around a mouthful of food. “If all elves are like you, I should have gone south.” She swallows a full cup of wine and a servant moves quickly to pour a refill.
“Depends. The provinces are full of fighters, if that’s what you mean. As for how many measure up to me…more than you’d think but far too few are committed to martial pursuits. I am afraid you would find my home uninteresting.”
It takes effort not to gape at her. Kierra can be deceptive, even manipulative, but rarely does she outright lie like she just did. Far too few are committed to martial pursuits? Don’t make me laugh! Dusk may be the most violent of the provinces but all elves worship strength. If her tale of the Great Spirit that supposedly elevated them is true, then the thirst for strength is practically woven into their very being.
“While having a master caster wielding a pure affinity amongst our forces is heartening, I have concerns, Father,” Zachariah continues. “The hunters of Quest arrived four days ago.” What? With our speed, they must have left well before us. “Killing a guildmaster may be a great accomplishment but it also brings many complications. They knew that Alana’s bannerwoman and the elf would be coming to Victory. They’ve made it clear that if these two are allowed to stay, none of them will participate in the campaign.”
Beside him, his mother sets down her cutlery and wipes her already clean lips. She turns her sharp gaze to Kierra. “You are unquestionably strong. A pure physical affinity can also be the difference between life and death. But, in the end, you are but one woman with a limited coefficient. The question is are you and…Alana’s bannerwoman worth more one-hundred eighty-nine soldiers in a battle of endurance where numbers are crucial.”
The implied you aren’t doesn’t need to be voiced. Several eyes, including the barbarian I thought too sloppy to devote any attention to this conversation, watch us intensely. The duke is a statue. I have no doubt that if we do not justify ourselves, we will be dismissed from Victory.
If Kierra feels the pressure they are trying to inflict, she doesn’t show it. “Do I think that an experienced commander who has led soldiers to hunt manabeasts many times before and can kill one of your little master casters in minutes is worth more than nearly two-hundred children throwing a tantrum because they started a fight without thinking of the consequences?” She chuckles. “Yes. That is speaking of me alone. My clan is worth far more.”
“Your clan?” Zachariah asks.
She doesn’t deign to answer. “If you wish to test my abilities for yourself, I am eager for a duel. Though I will warn you that I only duel to the death. It is the way of my people.”
That…that is a blatant lie. She is more than capable of beating someone within an inch of death and bringing them back to the peak of health a moment later. What is she planning?
“Control is also a strength,” Eleanor said.
“Yes, but there is no point in a duel to determine my abilities where I am forced to hold back.”
“Ah, what a pain!” the favored heir complains. “You’re doing this on purpose. Obviously, anyone who is capable enough to test your abilities is too valuable to die in a stupid duel. You’re trying to slip out of this. Father—"
“There exists another way,” Kierra says, smile widening. “My people have come across similar situations, needing to test a warrior’s strength but unwilling to allow the death of valuable fighters. We have a tradition, if you are willing to listen.”
“This is—"
“Let her speak,” the duke commands and his son quickly shuts up.
“It is simple. I would compare my strength to any doubters in a duel of another kind. A test of physical prowess that brings pleasure rather than the pain of death.”
I suddenly have a really bad feeling.
“Get to the point,” Zach grumbles.
“In the Dusk province, our warriors are praised for both their prowess in bed as well as the battlefield.”
The room freezes, along with my heart. Didn’t know this body was still capable of such a response but I suppose keeping Geneva out of my mind means I’m vulnerable to subconscious responses. Especially when taken off guard like I just was. Anyone would be. Everyone is. Her wild lie, at least I think it’s a lie, even managed to break the duke’s calm facade, his brows furrowing as he turns to her.
“What in the freezing pits of the Peaks are you talking about?” Zach curses. “What does fucking have to do with your value to a war effort?”
“If you cannot draw the obvious parallels, I feel sorry for your lovers.”
Alana’s shoulders stiffen as she smothers a laugh. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The favored heir’s parents are not amused but the barbarian laughs, spilling some of her wine.
“I can see it,” Kalise says, setting down her cup. “A good lay needs strength, endurance, and technique, just like a fighter. Haha, that’s fecking gold!”
“It also requires communication and trust, two things a commander needs,” Kierra continues. Her easy tone and placid features don’t suit the ridiculous words coming out of her mouth. It takes immense effort not to gape at her.
“True, true. Zachy boy, get that stupid look off your face. She may be green but she’s prettier than all those servant girls who wipe your sweat after training. If this was the south, whole tribes would be slaughtered as the warlords fought for a night with her and she’s offering herself in a basket.”
Some of the offense in Zach’s face eases as he takes a second, long look at my wife. My control is strained but I manage not to react. It’s fine. He won’t lay a hand on her, I know that.
“The boy does not interest me.” And Zach’s frown returns. “I am married to a woman.” Her smile turns sly as her eyes move to Eleanor.
“Disgusting,” the stern woman spits. “Enough of your games.”
“It is not polite to insult another culture’s traditions. But I do not expect you to understand. I suppose you will simply have to trust my estimation of my ability.”
“Now hold on a moment.” The barbarian leans forward. “This is interesting. Very, very interesting.”
“Kalise,” the duke says, far more calmly than I think most men would be in his shoes.
“Is that jealously, my husband?” she teases. “I thought this place had finally frozen your heart but there is something left of the lion I married, it seems.” She drains her cup, wiping the few droplets that wet her chin. “Don’t get too excited, old cat. I take vows seriously. I’m just too curious. Oi! Greenie! How does this duel work?”
“Simple. I take the wives of my doubters to bed. If I manage to make them scream my name louder than they have every screamed for their husbands, no one would dare question my abilities.”
The barbarian’s laugh echoes in a silent dining room. I can’t…process this. A part of me wants to believe this is a dream because it cannot be reality. Kierra is not trying to cuck a duke. Or, saints, the whole fort? All the hunters? What…this is a joke, right? It has to be a joke.
“You, haha, crazy woman! Aren’t you afraid the men would kill you for such an insult?”
“A leader also needs daring.”
The duke bangs the end of his knife against the table and his wife softens her wild laughter to quiet snickers. “We do not need those of weak commitment. It was my decision to allow more outsiders to bolster our numbers, but this is Victory’s war. We do not negotiate. We do not acquiescence.”
He sweeps his gaze over the table but no one dares question him. “That said, your presence will disrupt discipline in the ranks if you are near the hunters. That interferes with the deployment plans. Alana, you will give a recommendation for your deployment tomorrow. Should your answer prove inadequate, your position will be chosen for you.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Zach, you have been placed in charge of the hunters. Their conduct is your responsibility. Whatever decision you make, you will accept the consequences. Decide by tonight and give your sister your answer before noon.”
“Understood, Father.”
A subtle touch to Kierra’s leg prompts the elf to sit down and Alana stands again. “I would like to discuss resource allocation and distribution. Specifically, of what I’ve brought.”
“I was wondering when you’d bring up the dozen wagons you came here with. The servants barely found room for it all.” Zachariah eyes her speculatively. “That better not all be garbage.”
“All of it is valuable. And it is all for me. I exempt myself from the counting.” She explained this one to me before we came to dinner. Normally, before a campaign, all the resources procured by the different orders are counted, catalogued, and distributed to where they’re needed most. Victory’s heir is chosen through merit. Sourcing resources is a common and easy way to accumulate said merit. For Alana to refuse to donate her supplies is both surprising and relatively unheard of.
“Accepted.” Yet the duke doesn’t question her decision at all. I guess he is very serious about letting his children make their own choices. “I remind you that personal supplies are your responsibility to transport.”
“Good luck finding beasts to pull that many wagons,” Zachariah snarks. “I’m not lending you any, dear sister.”
“I don’t need you to,” she snaps. “That concludes my concerns.”
“Oh? Are we not going to hear from your bannerwoman? She is rather infamous amongst the hunters.” The favored heir turns his gaze to me. “Nothing to say for yourself, Lady Tome?”
“My people aren’t your concern. Save your breath speaking of relevant issues or our food will be cold before we finish.”
Her brother smirks at the rebuke. Like a bear amused at the little kitten hissing at it. He really doesn’t view her as competition for the title, does he? “Suppose you have a point, dear sister,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. “There’s been a few disagreements with the orders. Especially Waking Beasts. Don’t suppose you’ll let me disband those lunatics?”
“All who fight are worthy,” is his father’s response.
“That’s all they do.”
“Find a way to pacify them. A weapon’s worth is determined by the hand that wields it.”
The favored heir clicks his tongue but doesn’t offer any argument. “Suppose I should get the next fruitless request out of the way. Kalise, are you going to part with my brother’s maps?”
She waves her cup at him. “Not on your life, young cat. My boy left them in my care. Don’t know why you want them. The only ones I’ve got are his surveys of the mountains. Nothing beyond them.”
“You don’t think eliminating the monster nests on the mountains before we begin the march would be useful?”
“Ha! If it was so easy, those mountains would have been conquered generations ago. It’d be a waste of men. Better I keep the maps than a rash little cub gets himself killed trying to sink his claws in prey he can’t handle.”
ARC 6-Winter War-63
Kierra sweeps her gaze over the table, her smile stretching wider. “I give thanks for inviting me to your table and your battle. I understand the sacredness of a blood feud and what it means to allow others to interfere. I will repay your trusts with a mountain of corpses.”
“Haha, that’s the spirit!” Kalise shouts around a mouthful of food. “If all elves are like you, I should have gone south.” She swallows a full cup of wine and a servant moves quickly to pour a refill.
“Depends. The provinces are full of fighters, if that’s what you mean. As for how many measure up to me…more than you’d think but far too few are committed to martial pursuits. I am afraid you would find my home uninteresting.”
It takes effort not to gape at her. Kierra can be deceptive, even manipulative, but rarely does she outright lie like she just did. Far too few are committed to martial pursuits? Don’t make me laugh! Dusk may be the most violent of the provinces but all elves worship strength. If her tale of the Great Spirit that supposedly elevated them is true, then the thirst for strength is practically woven into their very being.
“While having a master caster wielding a pure affinity amongst our forces is heartening, I have concerns, Father,” Zachariah continues. “The hunters of Quest arrived four days ago.” What? With our speed, they must have left well before us. “Killing a guildmaster may be a great accomplishment but it also brings many complications. They knew that Alana’s bannerwoman and the elf would be coming to Victory. They’ve made it clear that if these two are allowed to stay, none of them will participate in the campaign.”
Beside him, his mother sets down her cutlery and wipes her already clean lips. She turns her sharp gaze to Kierra. “You are unquestionably strong. A pure physical affinity can also be the difference between life and death. But, in the end, you are but one woman with a limited coefficient. The question is are you and…Alana’s bannerwoman worth more one-hundred eighty-nine soldiers in a battle of endurance where numbers are crucial.”
The implied you aren’t doesn’t need to be voiced. Several eyes, including the barbarian I thought too sloppy to devote any attention to this conversation, watch us intensely. The duke is a statue. I have no doubt that if we do not justify ourselves, we will be dismissed from Victory.
If Kierra feels the pressure they are trying to inflict, she doesn’t show it. “Do I think that an experienced commander who has led soldiers to hunt manabeasts many times before and can kill one of your little master casters in minutes is worth more than nearly two-hundred children throwing a tantrum because they started a fight without thinking of the consequences?” She chuckles. “Yes. That is speaking of me alone. My clan is worth far more.”
“Your clan?” Zachariah asks.
She doesn’t deign to answer. “If you wish to test my abilities for yourself, I am eager for a duel. Though I will warn you that I only duel to the death. It is the way of my people.”
That…that is a blatant lie. She is more than capable of beating someone within an inch of death and bringing them back to the peak of health a moment later. What is she planning?
“Control is also a strength,” Eleanor said.
“Yes, but there is no point in a duel to determine my abilities where I am forced to hold back.”
“Ah, what a pain!” the favored heir complains. “You’re doing this on purpose. Obviously, anyone who is capable enough to test your abilities is too valuable to die in a stupid duel. You’re trying to slip out of this. Father—"
“There exists another way,” Kierra says, smile widening. “My people have come across similar situations, needing to test a warrior’s strength but unwilling to allow the death of valuable fighters. We have a tradition, if you are willing to listen.”
“This is—"
“Let her speak,” the duke commands and his son quickly shuts up.
“It is simple. I would compare my strength to any doubters in a duel of another kind. A test of physical prowess that brings pleasure rather than the pain of death.”
I suddenly have a really bad feeling.
“Get to the point,” Zach grumbles.
“In the Dusk province, our warriors are praised for both their prowess in bed as well as the battlefield.”
The room freezes, along with my heart. Didn’t know this body was still capable of such a response but I suppose keeping Geneva out of my mind means I’m vulnerable to subconscious responses. Especially when taken off guard like I just was. Anyone would be. Everyone is. Her wild lie, at least I think it’s a lie, even managed to break the duke’s calm facade, his brows furrowing as he turns to her.
“What in the freezing pits of the Peaks are you talking about?” Zach curses. “What does fucking have to do with your value to a war effort?”
“If you cannot draw the obvious parallels, I feel sorry for your lovers.”
Alana’s shoulders stiffen as she smothers a laugh. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The favored heir’s parents are not amused but the barbarian laughs, spilling some of her wine.
“I can see it,” Kalise says, setting down her cup. “A good lay needs strength, endurance, and technique, just like a fighter. Haha, that’s fecking gold!”
“It also requires communication and trust, two things a commander needs,” Kierra continues. Her easy tone and placid features don’t suit the ridiculous words coming out of her mouth. It takes immense effort not to gape at her.
“True, true. Zachy boy, get that stupid look off your face. She may be green but she’s prettier than all those servant girls who wipe your sweat after training. If this was the south, whole tribes would be slaughtered as the warlords fought for a night with her and she’s offering herself in a basket.”
Some of the offense in Zach’s face eases as he takes a second, long look at my wife. My control is strained but I manage not to react. It’s fine. He won’t lay a hand on her, I know that.
“The boy does not interest me.” And Zach’s frown returns. “I am married to a woman.” Her smile turns sly as her eyes move to Eleanor.
“Disgusting,” the stern woman spits. “Enough of your games.”
“It is not polite to insult another culture’s traditions. But I do not expect you to understand. I suppose you will simply have to trust my estimation of my ability.”
“Now hold on a moment.” The barbarian leans forward. “This is interesting. Very, very interesting.”
“Kalise,” the duke says, far more calmly than I think most men would be in his shoes.
“Is that jealously, my husband?” she teases. “I thought this place had finally frozen your heart but there is something left of the lion I married, it seems.” She drains her cup, wiping the few droplets that wet her chin. “Don’t get too excited, old cat. I take vows seriously. I’m just too curious. Oi! Greenie! How does this duel work?”
“Simple. I take the wives of my doubters to bed. If I manage to make them scream my name louder than they have every screamed for their husbands, no one would dare question my abilities.”
The barbarian’s laugh echoes in a silent dining room. I can’t…process this. A part of me wants to believe this is a dream because it cannot be reality. Kierra is not trying to cuck a duke. Or, saints, the whole fort? All the hunters? What…this is a joke, right? It has to be a joke.
“You, haha, crazy woman! Aren’t you afraid the men would kill you for such an insult?”
“A leader also needs daring.”
The duke bangs the end of his knife against the table and his wife softens her wild laughter to quiet snickers. “We do not need those of weak commitment. It was my decision to allow more outsiders to bolster our numbers, but this is Victory’s war. We do not negotiate. We do not acquiescence.”
He sweeps his gaze over the table but no one dares question him. “That said, your presence will disrupt discipline in the ranks if you are near the hunters. That interferes with the deployment plans. Alana, you will give a recommendation for your deployment tomorrow. Should your answer prove inadequate, your position will be chosen for you.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Zach, you have been placed in charge of the hunters. Their conduct is your responsibility. Whatever decision you make, you will accept the consequences. Decide by tonight and give your sister your answer before noon.”
“Understood, Father.”
A subtle touch to Kierra’s leg prompts the elf to sit down and Alana stands again. “I would like to discuss resource allocation and distribution. Specifically, of what I’ve brought.”
“I was wondering when you’d bring up the dozen wagons you came here with. The servants barely found room for it all.” Zachariah eyes her speculatively. “That better not all be garbage.”
“All of it is valuable. And it is all for me. I exempt myself from the counting.” She explained this one to me before we came to dinner. Normally, before a campaign, all the resources procured by the different orders are counted, catalogued, and distributed to where they’re needed most. Victory’s heir is chosen through merit. Sourcing resources is a common and easy way to accumulate said merit. For Alana to refuse to donate her supplies is both surprising and relatively unheard of.
“Accepted.” Yet the duke doesn’t question her decision at all. I guess he is very serious about letting his children make their own choices. “I remind you that personal supplies are your responsibility to transport.”
“Good luck finding beasts to pull that many wagons,” Zachariah snarks. “I’m not lending you any, dear sister.”
“I don’t need you to,” she snaps. “That concludes my concerns.”
“Oh? Are we not going to hear from your bannerwoman? She is rather infamous amongst the hunters.” The favored heir turns his gaze to me. “Nothing to say for yourself, Lady Tome?”
“My people aren’t your concern. Save your breath speaking of relevant issues or our food will be cold before we finish.”
Her brother smirks at the rebuke. Like a bear amused at the little kitten hissing at it. He really doesn’t view her as competition for the title, does he? “Suppose you have a point, dear sister,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. “There’s been a few disagreements with the orders. Especially Waking Beasts. Don’t suppose you’ll let me disband those lunatics?”
“All who fight are worthy,” is his father’s response.
“That’s all they do.”
“Find a way to pacify them. A weapon’s worth is determined by the hand that wields it.”
The favored heir clicks his tongue but doesn’t offer any argument. “Suppose I should get the next fruitless request out of the way. Kalise, are you going to part with my brother’s maps?”
She waves her cup at him. “Not on your life, young cat. My boy left them in my care. Don’t know why you want them. The only ones I’ve got are his surveys of the mountains. Nothing beyond them.”
“You don’t think eliminating the monster nests on the mountains before we begin the march would be useful?”
“Ha! If it was so easy, those mountains would have been conquered generations ago. It’d be a waste of men. Better I keep the maps than a rash little cub gets himself killed trying to sink his claws in prey he can’t handle.”
