The Last Red Shoulder

by Gunlord500

Sidestory to "Wayward Son." How did the Western Isles become colonies to Etruria in the first place? A year after the war with Bern, Roy poses this question to Elphin, and receives an answer he never expected...and could not even imagine.

15. Peace Negotiations

Chapter 15: Peace Negotiations

The Wyvern General extended a hand to the Mage General. As could be expected, the latter didn't reciprocate.

Fortunately, his companion did. As Levin and Serapino breathed sighs of relief, Wayland strode up to the Bernite and shook the proffered hand that Khyron had refused. While the tension in Castle Ebrakhm's conference room did not dissipate entirely, at least it seemed the men gathered there would not come to blows immediately after their victory, and at last all the participants sat down at the large round table around which they were gathered.

And it had indeed been both an easy and sweet victory—Khyron had to admit that. He would never underestimate the diplomatic clout of the Eliminean Church again. After Gosterro had sent missives to the leaders of the Western Isle's pirate and warrior clans informing them of Red Shoulder treachery, they'd been willing to lay down their arms almost immediately. When Zedal received word that not only had the Red Shoulders intentionally betrayed him but also had designs on his homeland, it had taken him not even a few days to send Khyron an offer of alliance. It had taken but a few weeks to get a united army hobbled together and marched straight towards the last Red Shoulder stronghold on the Isles. Even more suspiciously, to Khyron's mind, was the fact that the Rebels had been taken entirely by surprise. They hadn't even bothered to attack the Bernese advance guard. While almost every last one of them was now dead, it seemed as if they genuinely hadn't the slightest idea that every power on the Isles had united against them. Something definitely smelled strange, and if Khyron had been a more suspicious, less pious man, he might have suspected at least Gosterro (if not the entire Church) having a hand in it.

Still, with the Rebels having been completely annihilated, now was not the time to cast aspersions upon the Church of Elimine. In all likelihood, it was the closest thing to a genuine ally Khyron had in the effort to make the other parties at this conference more than allies of convenience. With the Rebels gone, there was little keeping the Etrurians, the Bernese, and the natives from throwing themselves at each other's throats. Khyron would have been fine with that—after all, he was a warrior, a mighty Sage, and certainly not afraid of lizard-riders or barbarians! He had also learned the virtues of caution a long time ago, however, and realized that further battle might lead to defeat as disgraceful as what he'd suffered during the previous war, at the first battle of the Fortress of Spears. Thus, he had heeded his colleague Wayland's advice and agreed to a summit with Zedal Gustav, leader of the Bernese forces here, and Captain Goldeye and the mightiest chiefs of both the Fibernian and Caledonian warrior clans. Barim Reglay was still at Jutes, since the city needed a governor until a replacement for Icarus could be found. Serapino and Levin were also here, despite being simple commoners, because the natives seemed to like them so much.

Khyron wasn't much of a diplomat, though, and could not hide his distaste for his long-time Bernese foes. If Wayland wasn't there, the whole thing might have been scrapped already. The Knight General had been just savvy enough to hold everything together up to now, but without some further bit of aid, nobody would be making any progress here.

Oddly enough, Levin the Bard would somehow come through. "Hmm…forgive me if this seems uppity, milords," he said, in tones as conciliatory as he could manage, "But on the eve of such a momentous victory, might I be allowed to play a song of commemoration? That would set the tone for the negotiations, I hope."

Zedal raised an eyebrow. "Music? At a time like this?"

"Bahaha!" Captain Goldeye let out one of his distinctive belly-laughs, which was shared by his daughter, standing beside him. "Arr, a mighty fine idea if I e're heard one! Lemme tell ye, mateys, ye've ne'er heard singin' till ye've heard ol' Levin here!"

Goldeyes recommendation was enough to sway the rest of the "enthusiastic" warrior chiefs, and a pleading expression from Serapino told Khyron that it would not be at all a bad idea. The Mage and Knight Generals nodded at the Bard, and as his fingers danced upon the strings of his guitar began his song:

Praise Etruria, bringers of justice,

Dreaded darkness she crushed 'neath her heel,

Praise Bern, whose winged avengers,

Forced ebon-clad villains to kneel,

Praise the men of the Western Isles,

For the shadow fell 'gainst their steel,

Praise all these heroes, let none forget

That battle well-fought be their friendship's seal.

Odd, very odd—as the song ended, Khyron felt much calmer and more relaxed. Looking around the table, he noticed Zedal and the chiefs felt the same way. Was it some sort of sorcery within the song, as was the case back in Kelles' labyrinth? Possibly, yet Khyron felt no magic in the air, not this time. Perhaps Levin was just that good.

The natives were quite impressed—"See, what'd I tell ye," boasted Goldeye as his companions laughed and called for an encore. Even Zedal broke out into a warm smile as he listened to the song—which was a rarity for him. With everyone in such a good mood it at least seemed as if the negotiations would not end as soon as they'd began. At least, they all took their seats at the large conference table at last.

Though they might not last that much longer. "Let's get down to business," said Zedal, "and let's not mince words. We all want different things here, and all of our desires are counter to each other. My men died for Caledonia, and I don't want their sacrifice to be in vain. Etruria, on the other hand, wants control of all the these islands. And the natives, obviously, want independence. Needless to say, I doubt all of us are going to leave this meeting happy."

Khyron was about to let loose with an angry retort before Serapino, of all people, interjected.

"Um…I'm sorry, milords, but aren't you forgetting that we're here too?"

"What? Of course we're here, where else would we be? Don't interrupt us with your nonsense, monk!"

"No, I mean we, the Church! It's not like I haven't helped you at all, Lord Khyron!" Serapino seemed a bit indignant—even he couldn't be as disrespected as he almost invariably was forever. "And the Church has supported you all throughout your campaign! I think we deserve to have a say in these negotiations too!"

"I suppose that's true," said Zedal thoughtfully, "and the blessings of Elimine's Church would indeed do much to satisfy my men. But who will be their representative? You?"

"O-of course not!" Serapino looked as if he wanted to disappear into his cassock. "But can't we get an Archbishop to talk to? I know His Excellency Gosterro has been in contact with Khyron a lot!"

"Eh? Ain't he all the way over in the mainland?" asked one of the chiefs. "How's that possible?"

"There are ways," said Khyron grudgingly. "Fine, then." He reached into his traveling pack and brought out the crystal ball Gosterro had sent to him. There was already an image forming in its cloudy interior—Gosterro had evidently been very much expecting this.

Khyron set the orb on the table, and even the Wyvern General couldn't hide his surprise entirely when Gosterro's mitered head appeared clearly inside of it.

"Greetings, noble Wyvern General, and to you as well, brave warriors of the Western Isles. Zedal should know who I am and Khyron obviously does, but allow me to introduce myself to you Westerners. I am Archbishop Gosterro, a humble servant of our blessed Saint Elimine. I speak on behalf of my seven brothers and sisters sitting in the Supreme Church, and I speak for the flock which has many members even here on the Isles. You've already met some of them…I hope my friend Serapino has served you and your people well?"

"Aye, that he has," said Goldeye. "That staff o' his saved many a life here. Ye've earned my respect, priesty."

"I'm glad to hear that. Elimine's blessings be upon you, and you as well, Serapino. You have surely found favor in the eyes of our Creator above."

Serapino seemed as if he would swell up and burst with pride and joy upon being complimented by one of the highest-ranking members of his Church.

"With that said, I am aware of the impasse at which your three factions currently stand. I believe my Church may be able to broker a solution satisfactory to all of you."

"I am grateful beyond words for your help, Your Holiness," said Khyron, sincerely but testily, "but respectfully, what manner of "solution" would you now propose? I've the utmost faith in both Church and country, yet if even I can't find an answer to our problems, can you?"

"Hmph. Perhaps your faith yet needs strength, Mage General. Listen to my preaching a bit." Gosterro cleared his throat and began to speak:

"The interests of Bern and Etruria in these Isles is fairly obvious. They have the largest concentrations of precious metals that anyone is aware of anywhere on Elibe. The power which controls them would have enough tin, copper, gold, and iron, not to mention all manner of gems and minerals, to outfit and pay an army of millions in full steel. If either Bern or Etruria can monopolize these resources, they will swiftly gain dominion over the other, if not all of Elibe."

Neither Khyron nor Zedal could contest this, so they nodded for the Archbishop to continue.

"Yet, let us be honest: Thanks to geography, if not virtue or worthiness, these islands are fated to be Etruria's. It takes months for men from Bern to travel here, friend Zedal. Even if you manage to take Caledonia, you'll still be isolated from your homeland and desperately undersupplied. That's almost a guaranteed recipe for mutiny, and even if you and your men stay true, Khyron can enjoy close to unlimited support for the mainland. His reinforcements and resupplies need only cross the Shield of Durbans to reach him. To be blunt, he will best you eventually."

Wayland gave Khyron a stern look, which was enough to keep the Mage General from preening too openly. Zedal, however, was not yet convinced. "True enough. I am a man of Bern, however. We do not give up easily. Even if Etruria's dominion is inevitable, we shall never bow our heads to her without a fight! Many good men died for Caledonia. I'll not spit upon their sacrifice. Even if Etruria's victory is inevitable, I will not hand over what I have gained for my country so easily. We may not be able to stop you, Khyron, but we can delay your progress. That is enough for me."

"Your determination is admirable," said Gosterro. "But what if I were to give you something as valuable as the Isles in return for letting Etruria have them?"

"Explain."

"Etruria and Bern are the largest, most powerful countries on Elibe, yes? Not only militarily, but economically as well. Etruria's soil keeps all her people well fed and are fertile enough to support many more, and her craftsmen are the finest in all the land. Bern, on the other hand, has the best blacksmiths, armorers, and metalworkers on Elibe. Not only has your iron made your military close to unbeatable, but your tools are legendary for their strength and reliability, and your industry is nothing short of astonishing.

"Yet despite both of your countries having such advantages, neither of you does much trade with the other, correct?"

"That is so," said Zedal. "We have always been rivals throughout history. There's no point denying that."

"Are there any other reasons this might be the case?"

"Well, Etruria's policies towards us have been…unfriendly for many years. You place large tariffs on Bernese goods, discourage your merchants from trading with ours, and Bernese citizens are only allowed into your country as either mercenaries or when the devout wish to make pilgrimage to holy sites. All this is enough to make trade in your lands near impossible for us."

"Quite true. However, let us suppose Etruria were to lift every last one of those restrictions. There'd be no import duties on Bernese goods, exports of metals and minerals to your lands would be encouraged, and civilians could travel freely over the borders of both countries for any reason, not only military or religious ones. Even better…what if Etruria were to give you favored partner status in trade? Bernese merchants and industry would be given preference over Ilian and Sacaean ones…especially when it came to materials from the Western Isles.

"In that scenario, even if your forces were to leave Caledonia and cede the islands to Etruria, you would be getting so much of their profit and resources through trade that it would be almost as good as if actually conquered the islands themselves. Even better, since you'd be able to go back home to Bern and would not require the expense of being supplied so far from home. You and your men would also be able to keep a closer eye on your homeland, which would be most valuable in preventing the Rebel cells inside your country from carrying out their plans."

Zedal leaned back in his chair. "That…is interesting. Interesting indeed, Your Holiness. Needless to say I could not consent to this without the other two Wyvern Generals and King Arbain himself, but…speaking personally, my first concern is above all the welfare of my country. If it requires opposing Etruria, or Sacae, or any other land on Elibe, I will do so. But if a peaceful settlement with Etruria can give as much benefit to Bern as war, I have no reservations about choosing the former. My only concern is what I will tell my men. We fought to take Caledonia. If we retreat now, would it all be for nothing?"

"Not at all. Remember that the Rebels were a threat to Bern as well. You and your forces can return home with your heads held high: You may not have taken the islands, but you succeeded in the far more important mission of shattering the leadership of the Red Shoulders. Now that we have Oldnar, we'll be able to keep the Rebel operatives in Bern from causing any damage."

Gustav was happy enough with this reasoning. Before he could agree, however, an objection popped up.

"Think yer fergettin' somethin' here, Mr. Priest," said Goldeye. "Th' Isles already have people livin' on 'em, and we ain't keen on lettin' anyone rule over us. I like Khyron, but I'm not one fer bowin' to him!"

"I understand, noble warriors. But let us ask Khyron this: Does Etruria have any great interest in the Isles aside from their mines?"

Khyron was stumped, but Wayland again came to the rescue: "Not really. Our country isn't overpopulated and immigration to the Isles was mostly with the intent to get more people in the mines. We'd be happy to let the native clans run their own affairs if they agreed to leave us and our mines alone."

"This is our land! Durbans' land!" retorted one of the chiefs. "We don't hafta tolerate any useless foreigners here!"

"What if those foreigners were to be placed under the protection of the Church?"

"Eh?"

"Eliminism has many adherents among your people, especially in Caledonia. If I and my fellow Archbishops were to declare the Etrurians here as blessed by the Church, many of your warriors would be unwilling to attack them. I would also be willing for the Church to take oversight of the mines. You know we are men and women of virtue, as young Serapino has proved. We would ensure that your people would not be mistreated or overworked in the mines."

The representatives of the Isles looked at each other, muttering amongst themselves uneasily. "I don't like th'idea of bowin' to a bunch of priests any better," one said.

"If you don't agree to some compromise, though, the way might continue indefinitely," replied Wayland.

"Think that's a bad thing? We're chillen o' Durbans! War is our bread 'n butter!"

"Fightin' warriors is one thing, but me n' me hearties 'ave no heart fer bullyin' those who can't defend themselves," mused Goldeye thoughtfully. "Tell ye what, priesty: You leave th' people o' th' western isles alone, and me pirates won't hurt anyone w' the seal o' the Church on 'em. Anyone else is fair game."

"Tch," spat the other belligerent islander, "Well, killin' those priests n' nuns ain't so fun. Lotta boys in my clan think they're onto somethin'. I guess I can agree to leavin' 'em alone, but no more!"

"That would work for us. Virtually all Etrurian citizens are at least members of the church, so if you'll leave them in peace, that's really all we ask. It'll be a challenge getting the king and the court to agree to this—in both countries—but I believe we can make it work," said Wayland. "Jerid, especially, would approve of this plan, and all three of us Etrurian Generals together should be able to convince Galahad. There's one more question, though…"

"What is it?"

"What's going to happen to those Red Shoulders we have? Oldnar and…whoever that woman with him is?"

"They'll be taken into Church custody, of course," said Gosterro smoothly.

"What?!" Khyron was clearly displeased. "Those two deserve to die for all they've done! They must be made to pay for their sins?"

"Elimine would not approve of such a lack of charity, Mage General. It was thanks to Oldnar's help that we were able to destroy the Red Shoulders with almost no casualties and forge this alliance. I, for one, believe he and his companion have truly seen the light and truly desire to redeem themselves. I'll not stand in the way of that. Custody of those two are all we ask in return for brokering a peace between your three factions. Not such a high price, is it?"

"Oldnar's knowledge might also prove useful in the future," said Wayland. "If what he said is true, and there are covert Red Shoulder operations in Bern, we might never be able to root them out if he dies."

Khyron gritted his teeth. "All these politics leave a very bad taste in my mouth! But if I've no choice, I shall bear it. The only thing left to do now, aside from "official" negotiations, of course, is to hunt down the remaining Red Shoulders."

"Of course. But that won't be a difficult task. Oldnar has a layout of Castle Ebrakhm and also knows of all the hidden passages and tunnels in the area. With his help we'll be able to hunt down the fleeing rebels like the dogs they are."

Gosterro's voice sounded confident and secure. But somehow, Khyron knew, in the depths of his being, that such confidence was unjustified.

-X-

Soon, now. So very, very soon.

"Are y' okay, Kain?" Leitner, exhausted as he was, still managed a look of concern as he watched his best friend stumble, holding a hand to his head.

"Y-yeah"

"Well, just a lil' further. We're almost outta these mines, so don't give up now. Then we can figure out what happened an' how we c'n avenge all our friends!"

Leitner pulled out the map of the tunnels linking Ebrakhm mine to the valley castle. They were nothing short of absolutely massive—without that guide, the two Black Knights would have gotten lost and spent the rest of their days wandering through the subterranean caverns. As it was, armed with nothing more than that map and their torches, they'd spent a week heading north, or at least what Kain's sense of direction told him was north, apparently undetected by the victorious Royalists. They might have died for want of food and drink, but fortunate the Rebels, having anticipated they might need an escape route, had dotted the caverns with stores of supplies, marked on Leitner's map. Alas, the castle itself had fallen far too quickly for the two of them to bring along any other survivors. For all they knew, they were the last Red Shoulders.

But even the two of them alone against the world would be enough. They wanted to find the truth, and they wanted revenge. Nothing would stop them.

At least so they thought.

"There!" Leitner hissed, and ahead of them Kain saw a point of light he knew meant they were nearing the exit of the tunnels. They should have emerged into a secluded alcove not far from the main entrance to the Ebrakhm mines. No-one should have known they'd show up there. They should have had time to rest for a little bit, and perhaps even mourn.

Yet the moment they emerged from the tunnels, Leitner didn't even have time to scream.

Kain heard the sickening thump of arrows slamming into flesh, and saw Leitner almost fly backwards, landing on his back. In front of him, there was an entire squad of Royalist Snipers, backed up by several Knights in Bernese colors.

That was more than Kain could take. The sight of his best friend lying dead in front of him, the man who'd saved his life—and whose life he'd saved—so many times before, the man who'd survived the destruction of their squad and

Don't just stand there. Run!

The voice echoed in his head the loudest it ever had before. It wouldn't have registered with Kain if, in that moment, it hadn't sounded a bit like Leitner's. Reflexively, his mind still not working, almost as if the voice itself was controlling him, Kain turned and fled back into the tunnels, leaving the corpse of his best friend behind him.

No, not that way. Back, back here!

Kain stopped as the voice echoed in his head once again-and as he heard footsteps coming from behind him *and* in front of him.

He recognized the clank-clank-clank of heavy armor, and in the distance heard someone shout, "We've closed off all the tunnels starting from the mine entrance. He'll never be able to get back now!"

Here. Here!

Without thinking, allowing the voice to control his body rather than his frozen, broken, grief-stricken mind, Kain turned to his right and reached out a hand. He'd not lighted his torch, and was stumbling in the dark tunnels blind, guided by nothing more than whatever entity had reached out for him. His pursuers, however, were carrying lanterns, and he could see those lights moving around the bend of the tunnel on both directions closer to him. They'd be here soon…

But the hand he reached out found something strange. It fell upon a section of rock wall in front of him—a weak section of wall, ready to crumble.

"Ah!"

Kain couldn't keep himself from letting out a shriek as that section of wall actually did crumble, sending him tumbling down, down, ever downwards into what seemed to be another tunnel leading into the earth. But this tunnel was not on Leitner's map. It was either new…or something wholly undiscovered.

"Agh!"

More pain. Kain's descent suddenly stopped as he slammed into the ground. He didn't know exactly how far he had fallen, but it had hurt enough that he knew he'd been lucky not to land on his head.

He hadn't escaped his pursuers, though—he could hear their voices above him. "Where the hell did he go?" "Down here!" "This tunnel wasn't on the maps the traitor gave us!" "Looks like the stone just collapsed." "Let's head after him!"

It wouldn't take them long to find him. And in his current state, there was nothing he could do against them. Nothing he could do to take revenge, to find out why they had to die, why Oldnar and Kassa had betrayed them…

Overcome by grief, anger, and despair, as footsteps echoed above him, Kain began to sob, openly. What else could he do?

Then he saw something in front of him. A shift in the darkness, one he might have written off as

Ahhh, you're finally here…

Still sobbing, he raised his eyes, and saw a faint glow through his tears. Within the patina of a strange purple light—similar to that created by his Dark spells—he saw a shape.

His misery and grief receded for a moment and his eyes cleared of tears as he gazed at it. At first glance, it seemed like a suit of knight's armor sitting on top of a stone outcropping, hands over its knees. However, it was made out of a strange, almost slimy black substance that was like no metal Kain had ever seen—it seemed to be alive. The armor itself—its gauntlets, greaves, chestpiece, all of it—was covered in weird spikes and ridges corresponding to no craftsmanship Kain knew of. And its helm was cast in the shape of a leering black skull. Most of all, though, was the horrendous sense of malignancy which emanated from the thing, as tangibly as the magical power surrounding it. This was an artifact meant only for bringing evil, Kain knew, and not something meant for the hands of men.

At the same time, he wasn't afraid of it. At this point, he could be afraid of nothing, for nothing could possibly be worse than what he had just experienced.

And besides, it had called out to him, and perhaps saved his life.

The sounds of his Etrurian and Bernese pursuers behind him was getting louder, but Kain paid them no heed. The voice in his head was drowning out everything else.

Welcome, Kain of the Red Shoulders. I have been called many names throughout the ages. The blood-drinker, the soul-sucker, the skull-crusher, the flesh-tearer…but you may know of me from the legends of this island.

I am the Armor of the Berserk.

I have been waiting a long time for you, Kain. I have an offer to make. I ask much of you, but rest assured, you will gain every bit as much.

I need a host…someone to render unto me the energy I need to continue my harvest. I need someone strong of mind and body. My previous hosts…they were too weak. One was insane, driven mad by her loss. The second was starved and tortured, desiring only revenge. The third also wanted nothing but revenge, and was grievously wounded, as well. But you…you are a perfect physical specimen, oh, yes. Fit, tough, and uninjured…you will not burn out after a few minutes of me. And you are also sane. You desire vengeance, yes, but it is not the only thing you want. You also wish to know the truth, yes? Why your leader and your love betrayed you, and why your friends had to die. Who they betrayed you to, and what role the Red Shoulders played. Not even justice…you want truth! And you won't die until you get it. Yes, you'll live long enough to fulfill my purposes…and in return, I will help you find the truth you so desperately seek.

What do you say? Are we allies? I doubt you have much choice…

Behind him, Kain could hear the clanking of armor and angry shouts. He thought again of Zalf, of Kessler, of Jann and Deckham, of Leitner's bloody, horrified face, the arrow sticking out of his crushed eye socket…

And he thought of Oldnar, who he was loyal to, and Kassa, whom he had loved.

"We've found him!" yelled one of the voices. "Let's kill him!"

"W-wait a second," came another. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Do you feel that? Dark magic the likes of which I've never seen before!"

When Kain heard this, he made his decision.

He reached out a hand and touched the inky black surface of the armor sitting within the purple flames.

And both he and the soldiers sent to murder him—

Were no more.

::Linear Notes::

Damn! Bet you guys weren't expecting that…or I hope you weren't, anyways XD Not much to say here, either, just keep readin :D