Aldorile came to rest by a fallen tree. He sat down with his back to it and prepared himself for the meeting he was going to have at nightfall. Orc negotiations, he thought, Of all the ridiculous suggestions. The only negotiating he had ever heard of was written in blood on the tablet of the earth. That kind of negotiation tended to lead to sour relations. Even if they do negotiate, they will not agree to the terms we set for them. The terms require too much of the orcs. They will have their offensive position taken away from them peaceably, and their troops will never submit to leadership that retreats, even if they are just patrols. The grass began to speak of tension and the wind began to show foul drifts. Aldorile hit the ground and felt the earth with his palms. He set himself down and closed his eyes, breathing deep. The wind pressed against his face, the chill fighting against the warmth and light of the sun. Yes, they are near, he thought. Very near. I sense the earth's tension. "Soon my brother," he spoke to the wind, "soon." He picked himself up and walked on.
An hour later he saw the orcs off in the distance – they had no idea how to conceal themselves in the plains. Aldorile didn't really either for that matter, but he wasn't going to mention that fact publicly. He decided to gather himself and check all his gear, making himself look tip-top. He buffed once more the hilt and handle of his longsword and pulled the baldric nice and snug across his chest, re-aligning the buckle to rest in the center of his right breast. He straightened his tunic and breeches, re-rolled his boots so they evened up on both sides and flexed his hands, breathing deep and relaxing himself. He took some water and washed his face and arms, making sure that his Black Panther Bladesinger tattoo was clean and highly visible on his sword hand.
The sun was beginning to set. It's time. He set down his pack and reaching in pulled out a large white cloth. He hung it from the tree branch, let it unfurl, and hollered at the orcs, "I come under the banner of truce!"
He cleared his mind then surveyed the orc positions, making a mental check and defense plan in case of ambush. Negotiate indeed. I'll be lucky if they speak before they attempt to chop me to pieces. He smiled. Attempt.
It didn't take long before an orc came out to meet him. Aldorile presented himself and the emblem of the council as verification of his ambassadorship, making sure the tattoo on the back of his hand was well noticed. By the way the orc stepped back and straightened up when he saw the panther, it was well noted. He smiled to himself. Let him think twice about ambush. A short exchange in orcish ended with Aldorile leaving the cloth lying on the tree – to remove it before negotiations ended was idiocy. That's how "incidents" happened.
He was led to the middle of three tents and stood before a fire pit. The spit had been moved and wooden planks set over the pit to hold a table in front of which he stood. The orc leader came out in full battle array. His shield strapped to his back along with his axe, knives planted on his hide armor and a chain wrapped around the left arm. He was obviously military. No – he was atrociously military, and was announced as the Patrol Sergeant for the Southern Border of Blackwood.
The orc began negotiation. "We brook no aggression toward you or your kingdom Bladesinger Aldorile of the South Forest Council."
"Indeed? I am confused Sergeant," Aldorile said. "Your border has been extended many miles in the past months. After accomplishing this task, you have begun patrols close to the elven border. If you indeed brook no aggression than you must expect it Sergeant, or are your patrols merely an exercise program for your men?"
"Please understand that these patrols are neither preemptive or expectorant. Rather they are precautionary. You yourselves have a Border Guard. Do not take these patrols too seriously – they are standard procedure for any bordering sovereign nations with no treaty."
This is like a human negotiation. Something is not right here. He follows the correct format. Let's try some conflict. "I accept that explanation and thank you for that clarification. The confusion arises however from the lack of a de-militarized zone separating any bordering sovereign nations with no treaty. Your patrols are barely half a day's journey from our Border Guard's bowshot. Surely you agree this is a very small DMZ."
"No, the General does not agree." He paused and stared very hard at Aldorile.
"Understand then Sergeant that the Council considers your General's patrols too close to the elven border to warrant a viable defensive position. Rather they suggest an offensive position and therefore the Council requests that you graciously pull back your patrols farther north to the Blackforest border which would increase the size of the DMZ and minimize the threat of conflict by purpose or accident."
"The General requests that you graciously accept the denial of the Council's request."
"Bladesinger Aldorile of the South Forest Council duly notes the General's denial of the Council's request for the Northbound relocation of his patrols."
"Patrol Sergeant for the southern border of Blackwood confirms this notation."
"Thank you Sergeant."
"You are welcome Bladesinger."
Aldorile walked back at an even pace to his gear. He had expected attack from the orcs; though they remained much more cordial and dignified than the stories he had heard about them. Maybe there was more to these orcs than normal. He took down the flag of truce, put it away and threw his pack back on. He walked on to the border, hoping to reach it before it got too dark out here.