Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Treaty of Océane
Three days later, on a cloudless calm day, I found myself on the deck of the Océane, sea-sickness creeping in here and there despite the lack of any discernible waves. The galleon was barely swaying, if it was at all. Still, the steaming cup of coffee in my hand was doing wonders, even if it was honey in it instead of sugar. Rivain would fix that little problem eventually, ironically enough.
I leaned on the 'taffrail' at the back of the galleon, the only real open space on the decks of the ship. The rest of it was filled with cannon, supplies or living areas. On the water all around us was our Navy, swollen in numbers with captured vessels and one or two ships that had been under construction in Jader at the time of our seizure of the city.
All armed now with as many pieces of artillery as we dared without threatening the ships with capsize.
This time, Tam and Julie were not with me. I would not risk them in the heart of Crows territory, not only because I loved them but continuity of government demanded it.
Instead, it was myself, Fisher and Mariette, leaders of the three branches of our military that existed at the time; Army, Navy, Special Forces. If we were all assassinated, my lovers, Soprano and Paulie could step into our shoes immediately and continue the war.
Antiva City sits astride the tidal estuary of the River Tellare, creating a very wide and calm harbour for ships. The river itself is navigable right up to the city of Seleny too, with the Tellari Swamps to the south of it.
The bulk of the city is on the southern side, where aqueducts and streams from the Weyrs brought fresh water to the people. There were smaller mansions on the waterfront and apartment blocks behind those, all in granite or limestone. The mansions actually spread along the entire coast as far as the eye could see, well past the city limits, each of them with their own piers. However, the main warehouses and royal palace are on the north side of the river, away from the riff-raff. Workers and servants are ferried across.
The only significant institution that is on the south side aside from the Chantry cathedral is the Archive of the Crows, their headquarters. That was to be expected, because the Crows recruit heavily from the lower classes and elves of Antiva.
Why does this matter?
Because Fisher was able to line up our ships to fire on the palace and warehouses with minimal threat to the ordinary populace... save for those who lived near the Crows HQ.
Thus, with the sword of Damocles hanging over them, the leaders of Antiva sent their delegation in a luxury pleasure galley, like something you'd see in Venice or Val Royeaux. Gilded to the gills, being pulled along by well-dressed oarsmen. Couldn't get a good look at the actual delegates, they were partially shielded by curtains in the back of the thing.
"Do we know who is coming?" Fisher asked gruffly, joining me, "Other than the prince who's not actually a prince, but a mercenary with notions."
Prince Ali had already taken a boat to the shore that morning, to make sure the people I wanted to see were present.
I shook my head. "Not a clue, other than that the lead negotiator has the writ of Divine Justinia."
Fisher exhaled through his teeth. "Do we have the right to defy such an agent?" he asked, "I mean, the Divine..."
"We have the right to hang such an agent by his balls," Mariette chimed in sing-song, before adding, "The Chantry is done unless something happens soon to rescue it."
Trying to avoid a fight between the two, I looked to the Admiral to judge his reaction to that statement. Fisher's nose wrinkled, but he did not appear offended.
"You are not wrong, about the Chantry at least," the Admiral conceded, "But I refuse to believe that blasphemy and apostasy will aid matters." How very Aequitarian of him.
"Agents of the Divine are not agents of the Maker, Admiral," Mariette replied, "Insulting them isn't blasphemy or apostasy." She was right, but this line of argument was beginning to irritate me, we needed an outward front of unity.
"Enough," I commanded, "They're getting closer."
Which was no lie. I could make out the insignia of the guards, whom had appeared from below decks to stand on the bow of the yacht.
"Ah crap," I said, "It's the same weird Chantry troops that the Seeker was commanding. Probably means the ambassador is damn Pentaghast."
Mariette walked over to the railing, shielding her face from the sun with her hand. "See the blonde noble on the prow in the armour?" she said, "That's Cullen Rutherford. He was Knight-Captain in Kirkwall. He's working on some project for the Divine, along with the Left and Right Hands."
This was my first time seeing Cullen Rutherford, and I wasn't overly awed. He just seemed like any other noble, to be honest.
The news that the Left Hand might be coming sent a shiver down my spine, however.
"So it could be the Seeker AND the Nightingale coming on that yacht?" I muttered to Mariette, "I hope you brought your daggers. Maybe that knife-shoe thing too. We're going to need them."
I was joking, but Mariette did produce a dagger from a scabbard on the small of her back and spun it in her fingers. "Never leave home without them," she declared, "It's not like they won't be armed too, only fair."
"It's my Maker-damned ship," Fisher grumbled, "I would prefer they strip down entirely before setting foot on it. I'll have to make do with sticking a firelance in their face."
"Now who's the blasphemer?" Mariette joked, earning a glare.
A few minutes later, and the yacht was pulling up alongside the galleon, and the sailors were throwing a rope ladder over the side to facilitate our guests' arrival. One by one, they would climb aboard.
The first was a fucking Crow. I had requested one, but I would've thought the delegation had the sense to keep that representative out of the way, not as their front foot.
This was obvious by the sheer number of throwing knives attached to him with straps all over his leather armour, ready for easy grabbing.
His face and head was covered with a desert scarf, leaving only his eyes and the bridge of his nose exposed. Hiding his identity? Either way, no one was taking any chances. He had the muzzles of three firelances stuck in his face as soon as he stood up from the ladder. He held his hands up at once, and side-stepped away, trying to get away from the attention. He failed, and realising this, he backed up against the railing instead.
The second arrival was a woman in shimmering silk of a soft orange hue which had many ruffles along her shoulders and neck, contrasted with blue cotton sections like a semi-toga thing. She stood up and revealed a pretty face framed by brown hair, her eyes heavily shadowed. She wore a golden chain of office around her neck, the sections having a flower motif with golden drakes as the links. I sensed no threat from her, even as she frowned at the sailors holding her colleague at gunpoint.
"Josephine Cherette Montilyet," Mariette whispered in my ear, "Just resigned her post as ambassador of Antiva to Orlais. Definitely the Divine's ambassador here. I was in the same school as her, actually. Different year, though."
"Any clue who the Crow is?" I asked. Mariette said nothing, giving me my answer there.
The final delegate was, inevitably, the Seeker, in armour and with a sword on her belt. She climbed on board and got the same treatment as the Crow, but was far less cordial about it, slapping a muzzle out of her face and scowling at the teenager holding the weapon. The marine had the indignity to appear offended, but not the stupidity to pull the trigger. Always gratifying to see intelligence in a Marine.
And lastly, Prince Ali Campana joined the pack, not wearing the armour we had dispatched him in, but rather in a set of loose fitting cotton clothes in a white and red formation, with red silk slippers too. Much better for the warm weather than Kevlar, at least. Clearly he wasn't expecting to get into a fight.
Admiral Fisher gave the order to move them up to our deck, and they were escorted up the steps accordingly, firmly but politely. We had comfortable chairs brought from my own headquarters in Salle, and we all sat down.
Mariette had been right about who the ambassador of the bunch had been, because the Seeker and the Crow happily stood back and to the sides of their unarmed companions.
The Prince stepped to the side, getting out of the way.
"Imperator, allow me to introduce Lady Josephine Montilyet, ambassador-plenipotentiary of King Fulgeno II of Antiva and envoy of Divine Justinia," he said in Common.
Lady Montilyet curtsied without hesitation, giving me a warm smile I couldn't detect a deception in. Which merely meant she was very good. Her true opinion of my legitimacy or that of Troy was perfectly hidden.
"And Ezio Valisti, Third Talon of the Antivan Crows," the Prince continued, "As you requested a representative of that... guild."
Valisti did nothing but glare at me, so I curled my thumb around the grip of my firelance and waggled the fingers of the same hand in mock greeting. Just a reminder that I could give him new orifices, 750 per minute.
"I understand you have met Seeker Cassandra, Right Hand of the Divine," the Prince concluded.
"We've met," I stated, before addressing the woman in question, "You have been busy since your trip to Troy."
"The Divine will not rest until the Chantry has restored order," Pentaghast replied, "I hope these negotiations can help with that goal. Though I am not above telling you that I do not like you, General Hunt."
"Please, let's be clear," I smirked, "Imperator or your Excellency is my correct form of address now." I actually hated people using the title.
Pentaghast looked about ready to snarl something back, but the graceful Lady Montilyet imposed herself between us. "Perhaps you could introduce us to the others?" she asked me, hand on the Seeker's chest to push her back, "It appears the Prince does not know them."
It was a reasonable request.
"This is Admiral Raymond Pecheur," I said, gesturing to Fisher on my right, "The victor of the Battle of Rialto Bay."
Once again, Montilyet gave a dignified bow, though she did not smile. Fisher, for his part, bowed his head in return, and did smile. He was enamoured of the young ambassador clearly. Easy to see why.
"And General Mariette de Villars, commanding the Organisation des Services Strategiques," I continued, "I hear you went to the same school for a time, Lady Montilyet."
"True, though we were not in the same classes," the ambassador said, "It is nonetheless good to see you are in good health, Lady de Villars. You seem … prosperous." There was a strange moment where the ambassador looked Mariette up and down, which I didn't quite understand. I should have.
"There are circumstances of which you are not aware," Mariette replied, "But I thank you for your concern." Clearly she had seen through the words the ambassador had spoken, though the ambassador was in fact aware of what was going on.
"Concern would be too strong a word," Montilyet said, "Worrying about a harlequin is like worrying about any other soldier, it is a waste of time, you will do what you will."
Mariette gave a small bow of the head, unable to deny that logic.
"Now that we're all introduced, let us get down to business," I said, "You want peace. Let's hear your offer."
"Of course, Imperator," Montilyet smiled, "We believe we have a proposal that resolve all your current … issues with the Kingdom of Antiva and bring about a lasting peace."
"And perhaps resolution with the Chantry too," Pentaghast added, "That too is possibly within your grasp."
Montilyet turned her head and shot a blank look at the Seeker, who reacted as if it was a look of anger, recoiling ever so slightly, cowed. Maybe this ambassador really did have the chops, if she was bullying the Right Hand of the Divine around. Needless to say, Josephine Montilyet would be a vital person for the Inquisition.
The ambassador pulled out a document from a large pouch hidden in a fold of her robes, ribbons attached with wax seals hanging off of it, and continued in a pleasant tone of voice, like she was discussing a nice outing to the beach for a picnic.
"Antiva is willing to renounce all alliances with the Marcher realms designated as the League of Ansburg and all realms that Troy is now at war with, to enter into a permanent non-aggression pact with the Trojan Republic, and pay a war indemnity of a thousand million andris, to be delivered in gold and silver bars."
A pretty penny, to be sure... but gold wouldn't cover the flaws of that offer.
"In return, the Trojan Republic will withdraw from the borders of the Kingdom of Antiva, including the rebel Calabrian cities, it will sign a mutual defence agreement against the Qunari, it will end any attempts to stir political unrest in Antiva of any kind, and it will allow Antivan trading companies to buy your armaments for use by the Kingdom and for trade to third parties."
And they were asking things we could not do.
Standard negotiation tactic really, demand the impossible and then compromise as little as possible on the way to the final deal. The ambassador looked up from the parchment, as if she could not have recited its contents from memory.
"These are extremely generous terms," Montilyet added, "The war indemnity alone is the largest ever paid in a single sum."
"But not anywhere close to the largest war indemnity in total," Mariette retorted, with a contemptuous flick of the wrist to point at the ambassador, "You will have to do better than that, Montilyet."
The Ambassador did not dignify that statement with an answer, instead politely crossing her hands in front of her and looking for me to respond. I had to admit her behaviour was very disarming, she did not project any hostility at all. A wide gaze directed straight at me, her head slightly tilted to convey that she was listening, and no hesitation to use an awkward silence to push someone to answer too quickly.
She was a virtuosa, but I had been doing this too long now, and awkwardness didn't bother me that much any more.
"I've got three problems with the deal," I said after a few minutes of thinking, "First of all, General de Villars is right, a billion royals is not enough."
I knew that an andri was roughly equivalent to an Orlesian royal or a Ferelden sovereign, because I was sure to check with Leha beforehand.
The Ambassador's eyes rolled upwards for a moment, making me wonder what she was doing, before I realised I used the term 'billion', which was not a common one in use on Thedas at the time.
She stowed the document with the wax seals in her hidden pouch and produced a sort of wooden notepad, which had an inkwell and candleholder on the top of it. A feather quill soon found its way into her hand, followed by a quick dip of ink onto the tip, and she scratched away at the paper on the pad.
"And your other two objections?" she inquired, stopping writing for a moment.
"The House of Crows is not an institution of the Kingdom of Antiva, right?" I asked, "It is an independent organisation."
Valisti, the Crows' representative, cleared his throat before Montilyet could respond.
"That is correct, the King does not command us except when he pays for the privilege," he said, in an indiscernible accent to my ear, "In fact, the only reason we are having this discussion rather than using the opportunity to kill you is that we were paid to do so."
Montilyet's mouth twitched at the edges, before her mask of calm returned.
"Thank you for making my point for me," I said to Valisti, "You have stated the problem so very clearly. Peace with Antiva does not mean peace with the Crows. In fact, it is well known you use the Crows as your own special forces, for assassination as sabotage."
I spread my hands in front of me. "It gives you great plausible deniability in the event your enemies suddenly drop dead, but the Trojan Republic cannot tolerate such a convenient situation," I said, "Any attempt by Crows to interfere with us will be considered a breach of the proposed peace treaty, and we'll deal with you accordingly."
Valisti crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"The Crows cannot be bound by treaty," he insisted, "Our word is our bond, it is true, but we already have many contracts on many of your people. No less than five against yourself. Treaties would mean breaching the contracts based on political pressure, it would end our guild."
Mariette gave a single guffaw.
"The end of your guild can be arranged more directly," she said, venomously, "We'll burn Antiva to ashes and sow the fields with salt. This whole country will be a monument to your irrationality and hubris, this city a necropolis. You cannot hide among a population that does not exist."
That would take far more effort than I was willing to expend, not to mention it would be effectively genocide... but it was not entirely an empty threat.
"You will do no such thing!" the Seeker said, standing so quickly from her chair that it fell over backwards. Her hand went to her sword.
A heavily tattooed Marine sergeant reacted at once, stepping forward to aim a firelance up against her neck. Others shifted, ready to support him.
"Perhaps we should all calm down," Prince Ali said, standing himself and moving to Pentaghast's side, "There is no need for these talks to end in blood, we are all civilised people here." He physically grabbed her hand and pulled it off her sword.
The Seeker wasn't stupid, raising her palms before stepping back. The Prince put the chair back on its legs, and Pentaghast sat down, never putting the Marine out of her sight.
I have expected Cullen Rutherford to come storming up the ladder from the noise, but he did not make an appearance.
Valisti watched all of this, and hocked and spat to the side, clear over the railing into the sea and past two more Marines, who moved quickly out of the way. Fucking charmer.
The Ambassador breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"Imperator, I am hearing this from Lady de Villars," Montilyet said, "Am I to believe that this is also your position?"
"It is, at least in the event of a failure to come to terms here," I replied immediately, "Maybe there is a compromise though. The Crows can't sign treaties, fine. They can accept contracts, from anyone to target anyone else, correct?"
"Correct," Valisti confirmed.
I have to take a moment to appreciate my own deviousness here, because ho-ly shit, I am proud of this little idea:
"In that case, we demand that the Kingdom of Antiva contract the Crows to kill anyone who attempts to buy the death of any Trojan citizen," I smiled, "At the same rate offered for the Trojan targets."
That really got a reaction.
Montilyet's mouth actually dropped open, before she regained her composure and shut it so quickly, you could hear her teeth collide.
The Seeker looked like she was turning green, putting her hand over her face. Such an arrangement was entirely beyond her morality.
But it was Valisti who was most interesting. The laughter bubbled out of him so hard, he had to hold his chest. The scarf disguising his face almost fell off, and he struggled to keep it on. All the Trojans present were stunned by the display of mirth.
"Bravo, Imperator!" he half shouted, coming down a little now, "What an unique idea! The House of Crows will find this an acceptable compromise, I am sure of it."
"The Kingdom does not!" Montilyet interrupted loudly over the Crow's laughs, "Such an arrangement would not halt the assassination of your own people, it would merely avenge them at cost to Antiva!"
"Works nicely as deterrence though," I replied, "You have to understand, we can't just let your nobles assassinate us. So take your pick between this and your ruin."
Montilyet did not flinch at the threat. "It is unreasonable to ask us to pay for non-Antivans who wish your death," she said, "We may be able to pay if an Antivan attempts to hire the Crows, but we cannot even know if someone else does."
"Sure you can, the Crows can tell you," I said, "And besides, all an Antivan needs to do to avoid your idea of a defence is hire some disposable foreign idiot to hire them. We will add another 5% on the fee of each retaliation contract that comes up after the signing of this treaty, if that will sweeten the deal?"
I looked to the Crow, who was now sitting comfortably, one leg up on another, foot swinging.
"It would," Valisti agreed.
"The nobles and merchants would not accept it," Montilyet pressed, "It would place many of their lives at risk. They have expressed their desire to have you killed, to me, directly."
My frustration was building now, like a heat scratching at the inside of my skull. Oh yeah, let's just let the nobles try and assassinate us, that's the very definition of peace!
"It appears you are not getting the message," I said, through my teeth, "Their lives are already at risk."
"They do not see it that way," Montilyet said, "You must understand, this is how it has been done in Antiva for centuries. One does not take attempts on your life personally."
"How the hell could you not take that personally?" I said, bemused, "It seems Antiva requires an education in the subject."
I turned to Fisher and nodded.
The Admiral stood from his chair, and at the top of his lungs, roared out the command in Orlesian:
"RUN OUT THE GUNS STARBOARD! PREPARE FOR BROADSIDE!"
The entire crew shouted their acknowledgement of the order as one, and I could hear the scurrying about on the decks below of sailors and gunners. The gunports opened in a series of clangs, and the deeper rolling sound of wood-on-wood. I could picture the cannons moving to firing positions in my mind.
The Ambassador and the Seeker both ran to the railings on the starboard side, the side where the warehouses and transport vessels were sitting just a hundred and fifty metres away.
A Navy lieutenant ran up the steps to our own deck, holding a feathered hat on his head, and saluted Fisher. Non-regulation if ever I saw it.
"All batteries report ready to fire, Admiral!"
"Wait!" Montilyet said loudly over her shoulder, "We can...".
"Fire," I commanded over her objection, not raising my voice but instead directing it at Fisher.
"FIRE!" the Admiral roared. His lieutenant repeated the order at even higher volumes.
I covered my ears with both hands, pressed them tight, not even watching the carnage to come. Mariette copied me, valuing her hearing as much as I did and getting the hint.
A second later, the world shook like God himself had split open the sky above our heads. The entire galleon rocked to the side as the 150 and 200 millimetre cannon fired in sequence along the starboard side. Smoke filled our vision, the smell of sulphur replaced the salty and clear sea air, the heat of the day replaced by a hot flash of air from below decks.
The booms of the cannon and the explosion of the shells signalled the arrival of the destruction, but the cracking of wood and the smell of burning following it told me the warehouses opposite our position had been obliterated. I was fairly certain that no one had been inside at the time, but you never know.
I finally deemed to look, and found the exact scene of twisted mayhem I had expected. All were enraptured by it, including the Crow, though he remained in his seat. Valisti was craning his neck and sitting as upright as possible, however, so his interest was not feigned.
The air soon stilled, the shouts of 'ready to fire' from the gunners interrupting it again. They were waiting for the order to shoot again. Discipline in the Navy had improved, I noted to myself. Not only did anyone below decks keep shooting, but none of the other galleons or ships fire after seeing that the Océane had.
"Does Antiva require a second lesson?" I asked loudly, "Admiral, prepare to put the Marines ashore."
Fisher smirked, and called up his lieutenant again to raise the signal flags, which would relay the order to the other ships.
Pentaghast took exception again, but this time restrained her anger. She turned away from the burning and broken quayside.
"What sort of people are you?" she asked, "You just broke a truce with an envoy of the Divine. Are you mad?"
"Lady Pentaghast, please return to the yacht," Montilyet asked sternly, still gripping the railing, "At once."
"But who will protect you?" Pentaghast replied.
"I no longer require your protection," Montilyet said, "I appreciate your help, but it is clear that you cannot protect me."
The Seeker hung her head, ashamed by the truth. The ambassador finally turned towards her, face full of what seemed like genuine compassion to me. A small tap on the shoulder and a smile, and the situation was resolved. So, they knew each other.
The Seeker walked away, dignity restored, which I followed with my eyes but not my head, until she was gone, climbing down the rope ladder to the yacht.
An interesting thought occurred to me, on thinking of the yacht, but we'll get to that.
"Imperator, you have made your point," Montilyet said, returning to her seat, her nose wrinkled at the less than pleasant smells now wafting our way, "If I may ask, what was your third objection to our offer?"
"We will not sell you arms," I stated, "The day when we sell them openly is coming, I can promise you that, but it is not today."
"You already sell them to the Grey Wardens," she objected, "Your superiority in their use and manufacture is assured for at least a decade, according to smiths I have talked to. What is your concern?"
"You may find this ironic," I replied, "But I am trying to limit the death toll. When new, powerful weapons come along, they tend to get used and used badly. It leads to stacks of casualties that could've been avoided. The Grey Wardens are an exception for the obvious reason; they don't fight other humans for conquest."
"You are right, Imperator," Montilyet said, "I do find that ironic. Hypocritical even. But alas, hypocrisy for reasons of state is as common as dirt. No doubt you would accuse us of the same about something."
I nodded.
"So, renounce all Alliances. Non-aggression pact. War indemnity of two billion, half now, the rest paid over two years starting on this date next year, and retaliatory contracts against anyone contracting the Crows to kill us," I said, "In return, withdrawal of all Trojan forces from Troy, including the Republic of Calabria, no attempts to undermine your government, no wanton destruction of your entire nation..."
"Final offer," Mariette added, all menace.
The Ambassador held up a forefinger. "One more thing," Montilyet said, "Something that will cost you nothing but time."
"We don't have a lot of time," I replied, "We're a little busy conquering the Marches."
"It is not your time specifically," the ambassador insisted, "The Divine is calling together a Conclave, to discuss ending the Mage-Templar War. She requests the attendance of your Circle, your First Enchanter ideally."
"We no longer have a Circle," I said, "It was essentially merged with our government. The First Enchanter's real job is now the Minister for Magic's duty. And the minister is an Isolationist, unlikely to want to show."
"Then the Divine will want a representative of your government to attend," Montilyet said, "It is an excellent opportunity for you. You could win over the entire South to your way of thinking, if you play the Game with skill. The Divine is not unsympathetic to your ideas, and your presence would cow the more militaristic Templars with the threat of a war they could not possibly win."
I frowned. This was the last thing I expected. Yet it seemed like such a small request, really. It's not like I had to go to this Conclave myself. All I needed to do was give orders to some lackey of Armen's about our position and have them support the rebel mages to the extent necessary. Nothing to worry about there.
For the record, I'm not sure if my presence or that of Julie or Tam could have stopped what happened there, but even in retrospect, I sure as shit wouldn't have wanted to find out.
"When and where is it?" I asked, "The Conclave."
"The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Montilyet explained, "In Ferelden, near the town of Haven."
"I've heard of it," I said, "Our people wanted to go visit when we were in the Hinterlands, but there was no time."
"It will be happening at the end of next month," she continued, "It was originally scheduled for the first month of next year, but the situation has degenerated significantly. The Conclave will meet continuously as long as all parties are present to find resolution, under the protection of independent Chantry forces and the Grey Wardens."
What she really meant was the Orlesian Grey Wardens, the Fereldan ones weren't strong enough after we slapped them down at the Hafter. That fact likely saved the Fereldan Order.
I sighed. "Okay, we'll send mages to represent us," I said at last, "If that is all, I will instruct my Cabinet to draw up the formal treaty."
"Agreed," Montilyet said, "This has been unpleasant, but I am glad we came to an agreement. That is all that matters."
We all stood up, made various forms of salute or bow to each other, and the Antivans left.
I watched their yacht pull away, wondering if I had done the right thing that day, but satisfied I had gotten what I needed for the immediate future anyway. The oarsmen were doing a crap job, out of sync. And then it hit me; they probably weren't real oarsmen, but Crows in disguise.
I grinned madly, like a man who knows he just evaded death. Because I had.
"They gave us everything we wanted," I said, finally turning back to my colleagues, "It seems everything is falling into place."
Mariette removed her mask and rubbed her temples. "They surrendered a little too easily," she said, "The Antivans are not cowards, they should have forced us to storm the city and used their many assassins to make us pay heavily. They didn't."
"You think we got played?" I asked.
"I think the whole point of this was not just to save Antiva," she replied, "I think they wanted us at that Conclave, and I'm not sure if the choice had been between our going to it and Antiva's safety that they would have chosen Antiva."
Certainly would've been an interesting conversation if we couldn't come to an agreement though.
"Either way, we've won here," Fisher said, "I expect I'll be staying here to enforce the treaty, not much need for my ships in Starkhaven, not all of them could make it that far up the river."
No argument there.
"Nor am I letting our grip loosen until I see every single coin of that first billion royals," I added, before turning to our remaining guest, "Your Majesty, can you hold Calabria with just your forces?"
"For a little while," he said, "Longer if I whip the local princes' other mercenaries into shape."
"I'll get you appointed their Marshal before we withdraw," I said, "Hold off your Antivan friends as best you can."
"Where will you go?" the Prince asked, "To join your General Soprano?"
I shook my head.
"No, I'll take the Army of the Alba to Ostwick," I said, "Mop up the enclave of our enemies there, maybe become a father, and then I have some political business to take care of."
Namely the coup I was plotting against myself.
"Nothing like gunboat diplomacy," I mused aloud, before going to make myself another cup of coffee.