King Batu's heart had been stony and closed, wholly unreceptive to Jamka's words. And now, the prince found himself ready to die for the sake of Verdane, about to engage the Grannvalian army in Spirit Forest.
A figure caught his eye through the trees, and it struck his heart like a thorn. It was the priestess from before, the girl for whose sake this conflict began. Jamka's rotten brother Munnir had abducted Jungby's princess and brought her to Marpha, intent on marrying her. By now, both of his brothers were having a dirt nap, but they had been dead to Jamka ever since falling victim to Sandima's poisonous words.
The archer stayed his arrow as the lovely girl approached. "Edain?" he called out to her, "What are you doing here? I thought I told you and the kid to run." A green-haired archer knight escorted her, with knocked arrow trained on the prince.
"Prince Jamka," Edain replied, nearing him. "I couldn't just go back to Grannvale, not while I can help Lord Sigurd."
Her words cut his heart, and Jamka's face darkened. "The Lord Sigurd has rescued you. Why does he continue to march on Verdane?"
Tears welled in the priestess' eyes. "He sees no other way to pacify the king," Edain explained. Seeing the anguish in her face, Jamka knew she spoke the truth. She cast a questing glance to the prince, longing for an answer. "But Jamka, didn't you say you would speak with him? How come you're fighting?"
The archer grimaced at her words. "Father refuses to see reason," he spat bitterly. "And I cannot simply stand by as Verdane burns. Now Sigurd marches on Verdane in the name of peace, a wolf in sheep's clothes." He took a step back, feeling betrayed. "Edain, why..."
"Milord, Sigurd doesn't come as a conqueror. He only wants to negotiate peace with King Batu," she pled desperately. "Prince Jamka, let's go back to Verdane together. We can convince your father to cease hostilities, I know it."
Jamka frowned bitterly, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. Joining Sigurd would mean turning on his own countrymen, men who were simply defending their land from these would-be invaders. "Fine," he managed through gritted teeth. "But if anyone lays a finger on my father, I'll have their head."
The archer knight stayed his weapon, nodding appreciatively. "I'll go report to Lord Sigurd, milady."
Edain smiled to him. "Thank you, Midir." With that, the knight rounded his mount and began heading back.
The Verdanian prince turned on his heel and called out to the approaching axemen. "Warriors of Verdane, Lord Sigurd's forces seek a ceasefire. Lay down your weapons and make way for us."
Most of the barbarians were well aware of Verdane's ill odds, and didn't require much convincing to surrender. The archer fell in with Sigurd's advancing army, sorting his thoughts and racking his brain for the words that might finally sway the king.
Grannvale's forces continued pressing north through Spirit Forest, and Jamka almost bit his tongue as a familiar voice called to him from behind.
"Mister Jamka!" It was the boy from Genoa, Shanan. He was sat atop a horse led by Ayra. The myrmidon's face flickered concern before settling on familiar disdain.
The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile as he saw the two of them. "Shanan, Ayra, it's been a while," the archer called back, waving.
Ayra simply gave him an exasperated look.
"Are you alright?" Jamka asked, falling into step with them.
The swordswoman pursed her lips. "You're lucky you're nothing like Cimbaeth," she said quietly.
He heaved a reluctant sigh. "My brothers are already gone, aren't they? Tell me what he did."
A sympathetic look crossed her face as she searched her thoughts for the right words.
"Aunt Ayra didn't want to fight," Shanan offered helpfully. "So Cimbaeth put me in the dungeon and made her do it anyway."
The Verdanian prince gritted his teeth. "I suppose neither of them could be bothered to die with dignity. I'm... I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head ruefully.
Ayra continued walking in reticence, staring forward.
"It'll be okay," Shanan assured him. "Sigurd said he'll keep us safe with him."
The archer turned to the boy, blinking in surprise. "But he's Grannvalian. Doesn't that make you enemies?"
Ayra turned a haughty glare to the prince. "We don't need anything to do with that stupid war," she snapped. "Even so, Sigurd isn't a warmonger. I'll... I'll fight alongside him as long as it means I can continue to keep Shanan safe."
"Of course," Jamka agreed wearily. "I'm beginning to think this war means trouble for all of Jugdral. I don't know if father really can be persuaded, but I'll do my damnedest."
The swordswoman turned to him, the corners of her eyes creased with concern.
"Anyway, I'm glad we're both on the same side," Shanan chimed in. "I like you, mister Jamka. Aunt Ayra does, too."
"Shanan!" she barked, glaring daggers at him.
Jamka couldn't help but laugh. "You know, I'm glad I don't have to fight you guys, either. God knows I'd be joining my brothers right about now."
Ayra turned her face to the prince, and this time it was a pretty frown. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. And despite her laconic mien, he knew exactly what she meant.
The Verdanian prince nodded somberly. "I'm sorry, too."