Chapter 10
Telepe
A few hours later, the rain had abated somewhat, and Atkynd was busying himself by helping the men to finish pitching their tents for the evening. He was still sore – his shoulder and calf both throbbed dully with every heartbeat – but as he was well enough to move, he wasn't going to complain about his injuries when there were several others who had sustained far more grievous wounds… to say nothing of those that had been slain during the battle. Thus, he endured the pain in silence while he busied himself about the camp. With a soft grunt, he finished draping the sheet of leather over the wooden poles that had been slid into the soft ground. The muscular, blond-haired woman he was helping nodded to him gratefully.
"Well done. Thank you for your assistance," she said with a warm smile. "I appreciate you helping even after the battle. You must be tired."
"Think nothing of it," Atkynd replied, waving off her thanks. "And I am. Though I doubt I will get much sleep tonight."
"Truly? You seem exhausted," the woman pointed out, frowning at him curiously.
"Yes," Atkynd agreed, folding his wet arms over his bare chest. "But… I'm sure Vaermina will find me an easy target for nightmares tonight."
"Hm. I'm surprised," the woman remarked. "You seemed to acquit yourself well enough during the battle."
"I was flailing around blindly for most of it," Atkynd corrected her drily. The woman chuckled at his tart response.
"As were most of us," she said gently. "Yet you lived."
"Barely," Atkynd murmured as he folded his arms. "And through no small amount of luck. Others more skilled and more disciplined than I should have, by all rights, survived the battle instead." He looked down at the ground, his grip on his biceps tightening as he suddenly remembered the one-handed slave being slain right in front of him. If Atkynd hadn't been attacked at the wrong moment, the man might have lived… if he hadn't been distracted by Atkynd's inexperience-
"There is little merit in dwelling on it now," the woman said, a bit more firmly. "Mourn them, honor their sacrifice, but do not drive yourself mad considering what might have been. You are here now, and if you wish to respect their memories, you should pursue the cause they championed, rather than fretting about what might have been."
"…Indeed," Atkynd admitted reluctantly. He looked up again, meeting the woman's hazel eyes. "Did you know a man, approaching middle-age, with one hand?"
The woman considered his question for a moment, and then recognition dawned on her. "Ah… yes. Though we were not friends, we had spoken a few times. He seemed quite friendly." Her expression darkened as she caught the look in Atkynd's eyes. "I suppose that he did not survive the battle?"
"He did not," Atkynd confirmed reluctantly. Sighing deeply, he folded his hands behind his back. "Did you know his name, perhaps?"
"Memu," the woman answered after a moment's thought. The corner of her mouth twitched downward in a brief frown. "Pity. I rather liked him."
"As did I," Atkynd agreed quietly. "He aided me throughout the battle. At the very least, I wanted to know his name so that I know whose memory I should honor."
"Well… then it is good that you show proper respect to the fallen," the woman said. "Just do not allow such thoughts to consume you."
"I shall try," Atkynd said quietly. The woman smiled briefly, then turned to walk away. "Ah! And your name?" he called after her.
The woman turned back around for a moment, a grin spreading across her face. "Grepa," she replied.
"Atkynd," he said, smiling as well and inclining his head. The woman nodded, then turned back around and headed across the camp to help build another tent.
Atkynd glanced around, briefly considering what he could do next, but his thoughts were interrupted when he felt something press against his chest. Turning back around, he looked down to see Tari pressing her hand against his bare, wet skin, looking up at him with a frown on her face.
"Would you join me under that tent?" she requested.
Atkynd raised an eyebrow down at her, briefly considering teasing her for her unintentionally suggestive wording, but when he saw the bandages and flowers she clutched in her other hand, his humor faded quickly. "I'm well enough," he said simply. "You should tend to those who are in more dire condition than I-"
"I shall determine who is most in need of my attention," Tari interrupted. She pushed her hand a bit more firmly into his chest, forcing him backwards towards the tent. "Anyone who was in danger of succumbing to their wounds has been treated. Now I may attend to those with less serious injuries, and yours are fairly severe in that regard. Or perhaps that arrow wound you sustained earlier miraculously healed overnight?" she asked sardonically. "Tell me, can you raise your left arm?"
Atkynd gave her a look of mixed amusement and annoyance as he held his hands up in surrender. He meekly slid under the tent, deciding it was in his best interest not to argue further. "I did sustain another wound during the battle that you may wish to inspect as well," he informed her. He reached down and rolled up his leg, revealing the gash in his calf. To his surprise and relief, it wasn't as deep as he had feared. Blood had trickled partway down his damp leg before drying, though, making the damage seem far more grievous.
Tari silently inspected the wound, then took a bit of cloth and poured a bit of wine into it. "This will sting," she warned him as she began wiping the area around the wound. Atkynd inhaled sharply through his teeth, his leg reflexively jerking a bit before he managed to hold it still.
"You're using wine to treat it?" he asked as the sharp pain dissipated. "I've never heard of such a thing."
"It's an old superstition," Tari explained. "Get the bad spirits drunk and they'll leave the body more readily. I don't know if there's any truth to it, but it seems to work," she added with a shrug. "Thankfully this should be easy to mend. The muscle doesn't look damaged, so just try not to walk too much over the next few days, and it should heal without issue. How does your shoulder feel?"
"It's still throbbing," Atkynd admitted. "Which should be expected when I've been holding a heavy shield all night while a horde of angry elves tries to bash their way through it to," he added drily.
"I would not recommend doing so regularly," Tari agreed as she peeled back the bandage and grimaced at the wound. "It's been reopened, so I'm going to make a new poultice. Please do try to avoid engaging in any further battles."
"It's not as though I had a choice," Atkynd grumbled. "I wasn't exactly leaping at the chance to fight, you know."
"I know," Tari agreed, her tone softening as she brushed the wine-soaked rag over his wound. "Nevertheless, please speak with the Paravant about joining future battles-" She hesitated, her voice trailing off. Atkynd blinked at her as she looked down. "Or… you intended to leave once the battle ended, yes?" she asked softly, unable to meet his eyes.
"I had, but circumstances seem to have changed," Atkynd said evasively. Tari's head snapped up, and when he noticed the hope flaring in her eyes, he added, "While I would still like to leave as soon as possible, I may be unable to secure passage from Veyond. With the death of their king, the city will be in chaos, and I'm unsure if even merchant vessels would be willing to provide me with passage in light of such an upheaval. We'll have to see. For the time being, though, I'm going to assume that I won't be able to leave." A thoughtful look crossed his face as he murmured, "I may have to find another way to get a message to my king. At this rate, I won't be able to return until at least the spring."
"Is that so?" Tari asked slowly, looking away again. She ducked her head down to resume bandaging his wounds, but Atkynd noticed the small smile playing on her face. He chuckled to himself as well as he sat back, allowing her to dress his wounds in comfortable silence.
A few minutes later, a man who seemed to be in his mid-thirties approached them, carrying loaves of flatbread. He knelt beside Tari, nodding to the pair when they turned their attention to him. "You two haven't eaten yet, right?" he asked. "Here."
"Thank you," Atkynd nodded, taking the bread and biting into it. The smoky flavor of charcoal spread throughout his mouth, and he was pleased to find that it was still quite warm. He suspected that it had just been pulled off the fire. "What was your name by the by?" he added.
"Helvu. And you're welcome," the man nodded. "You should eat quickly and get as much rest as possible. You'll both need to keep your strength up, since we're due to march in the morning."
"Where?" Tari asked. Atkynd felt his stomach sinking as the man turned his eyes towards the entrance to the glade.
"That's what the Paravant, General Morihaus, and the Whitestrake are discussing right now," Helvu explained.
"Whitestrake?" Atkynd interrupted, frowning. Tari likewise tilted her head curiously.
"Ah, that's what some of the slaves have taken to calling him," Helvu explained. "They named him after that white hand of his, that light he used to win the last battle. That sort of thing leaves quite the impression. Besides, it's more fitting than an elven name like 'Pelinal,' don't you think?"
"…Perhaps," Atkynd shrugged. "How did you happen to hear what they were talking about?"
"I was delivering food to them. From what I gather, they're divided about whether they should press on towards Arpenia, or if they should attack the fortress of Telepe, across the Niben. Though… if they decide to do the latter, they'll have a tough time of it," Helvu added, his tone darkening.
"Why do you say that?" Atkynd asked.
Helvu shook his head. "I'm actually from Veyond. I used to work as a servant in the kitchens, so I often heard the king discuss things at dinner," he explained. "Telepe is a fortress that Veyond's king uses to control both sides of the Niben River. It's currently held by a cousin of the king's, with about two hundred soldiers under his command."
"Well… that doesn't sound so bad," Tari said slowly. "Even discounting the injured, we still outnumber them, right?"
"That's not the issue," Helvu replied, sitting down beside them so that he could speak with them more comfortably. "I used to hear the king say that Telepe is a very sturdy fortress. It's only guarded by a couple hundred soldiers because they don't need more than that. It's also well-provisioned in case someone besieges it." A grim look settled over his face as he added, "According to the king, you'd need to outnumber the fortress' defenders ten to one before you could consider attacking it."
"Alright, so then just leave it alone and move on to Arpenia," Atkynd shrugged.
"That's what the Whitestrake was suggesting," Helvu said. "However, the Paravant worries that if we leave Telepe alone, the king's cousin will simply retake Veyond himself, cutting off supplies, and perhaps even attacking our rear."
"What about if we take Veyond first ourselves, then, before moving on to Arpenia?" Tari asked.
"That has been suggested. Morihaus has already sent a few scouts to see if Veyond can be taken with the army that we have. Holding it would be another matter, however, even if we do take it," Helvu added. "He believes that the armies of Veyond and Arpenia were almost annihilated in the last battle, so we'd face little resistance if we attacked the cities. If we take Veyond, however, we'd have to commit almost our entire army just to holding that city. If we tried, we'd be stretched too thin to consider pursuing Glinferen. So… the three of them are at something of an impasse, with the Paravant wishing to deal with Telepe, Whitestrake in favor of pursuing Glinferen's remaining army, and Morihaus undecided," he shrugged.
"Then what do you think we should do?" Tari asked. "You seem quite well informed."
"I was merely listening. I have no suggestions as to what course to pursue," Helvu admitted. He then tilted his head as he noticed the thoughtful look on Atkynd's face. "Though… you seem as though you're considering something. Did you have more questions?"
Atkynd was resting his chin against the side of his curled index finger, frowning deeply to himself. "Tell me… what was the king's relationship with his cousin in Telepe?" he asked slowly.
A puzzled look crossed Helvu's face. "If I remember… he was a part of a branch family only distantly related to the king," he replied slowly. "I don't believe their families got along well. The king once mentioned something about disinheriting them, despite him being the last of his line…."
"They were disinherited? Are you certain?" Atkynd asked sharply.
"Fairly," Helvu replied slowly. "Why?"
"But they were nobles, yes? And received a noble education?" Atkynd continued.
"I… believe so?" Helvu said uncertainly. "I seem to recall one of the Ayleid tutors mentioning that he used to instruct both families. Why? What are you driving at?"
Atkynd paused, then shook his head. "Just… pondering something," he said slowly.
Tari narrowed her eyes slightly, and Atkynd realized from her expression that she was unconvinced. "You seem as though you're scheming rather than pondering," she remarked.
Atkynd winced, looking away. "It's… just that I might have a solution. It's certainly not a perfect one, and I doubt everyone will be pleased with it – in fact, I doubt anyone will be completely satisfied with it – but it might give the Paravant swift control of both Telepe and Veyond, and allow Pelinal to continue pursuing Glinferen. Provided this idea proves successful."
Helvu's eyes widened. "Truly?" he exclaimed. "You should seek an audience with the Paravant immediately then!"
Atkynd hesitated, then glanced over at Tari. "Have my wounds been treated?" he asked quietly.
Tari frowned at him, sitting back and folding her arms over her chest. "You claimed that you didn't wish to get involved with this rebellion any further," she said coolly.
Atkynd frowned at her, scowling slightly. "I hardly have much of a choice right now," he retorted. When she continued to stare at him, he sighed and added, "And I'd rather avoid more bloodshed. If both parties accept this plan, there might not be a need to fight another battle." He shuddered as the memory of the men in the phalanx dying around him flashed, unbidden, in his mind before he ruthlessly suppressed it.
"What about Pelinal's desire to pursue Glinferen?" Tari pressed.
"If a battle must be fought, then so be it," Atkynd answered. "However, if there is a chance to avoid it, then I will endorse the more peaceful option. Besides, the sooner that this war ends, the sooner I can return home. If doing so requires me to lend aid to this rebellion, then so be it. Aside from those in Nenalata, the Ayleids have been of little help, if not outright hostile. I'd rather chance working with the Paravant in the hopes that she will, in turn, aid me in leaving Cyrod once the opportunity presents itself."
"How pragmatic," Tari remarked, a slight, knowing smirk playing on her lips. Atkynd shot her a dirty look as she pushed herself up and dusted her hands off. "Your wounds should heal so long as you do not strain yourself further. See me in two days, and I shall treat them again. If you'll both excuse me, there are others I must tend to."
Atkynd and Helvu both watched Tari pad away, and when she was out of earshot, Atkynd sighed and shook his head. "I almost miss when she was meek," he remarked drily. "She has a rather sharp tongue, and she's been exercising it far more freely lately."
"You seem rather close," Helvu commented.
"We are," Atkynd confirmed with a chuckle. "Would you point me in the direction of the Paravant's tent, please?"
"Of course. It's the largest one there, near the edge of the glade," Helvu said, pointing towards the back of the clearing. "Simply inform the guards that you have come to deliver a message for the Paravant. They should allow you inside with little fuss."
"Thank you," Atkynd nodded. Helvu smiled and inclined his head before heading off. Atkynd walked over to his bag and pulled out his clothes, then took a moment to strip off his damp, dirty trousers before exchanging them for a clean set. He briefly considered dressing in his more formal diplomatic clothing, but then decided that there was no reason to put on airs with the Paravant. He instead slipped into a comfortable linen tunic and pulled on his boots before fastening his clan cloak over his shoulder again, then took a moment to pull his hair back over his ears and tie it in a loose ponytail with a strip of leather. He then strolled across the clearing, weaving between the rows of tents, until he came within a few feet of the Paravant's large tent.
A young man and woman were posted on either side of the tent, both dressed in loose, dirty chitons, and each carrying a spear and shield. They eyed Atkynd curiously as he approached, though neither shifted their stance to a more hostile one.
"Good evening," Atkynd said pleasantly. "I'd like to speak with the Paravant, if you don't mind."
"The Paravant is currently meeting with General Morihaus and the Whitestrake," the young woman said slowly.
"I know. About their next course of action, yes?" Atkynd asked. "That's what I wish to speak with her about. I might have a suggestion." When the guards traded hesitant looks, he added, "She said before that she would like my input on certain decisions. I'm merely fulfilling her request."
"What… what do you think?" the young woman asked her partner unsurely.
"I see little reason to stop him," the young man muttered. "It's not as though he could do her any harm with both the Whitestrake and Morihaus in there."
"…Very well," the young woman said, though she still seemed unsure. Atkynd noticed her eyeing his pointed ears warily. Still, she stepped aside and opened the flap of the tent for him. Atkynd smiled warmly and inclined his head to the pair, then ducked his head and quietly slipped inside the tent.
The interior was dimly lit by a couple of candles set up on a log that was serving as a low table. Pelinal and the Paravant were standing on either side of it, both gazing intently at a map that had been placed between them. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Morihaus standing next to the entrance with his large arms folded. His brown eyes widened at Atkynd's sudden intrusion, but he quickly composed himself and held a large finger over his lips, tacitly requesting Atkynd's silence, before he returned his attention to the pair in the center of the room.
Pelinal and the Paravant looked up and stared firmly at each other from across the log, neither seeming to notice Atkynd enter the tent. Pelinal had removed his helmet, revealing a striking appearance. He seemed to be a man in his late thirties or early forties, with lined, tanned, weathered skin and a stern expression. His eyes were bright blue, much like the Paravant's, but what drew Atkynd's attention was the loose, unkempt mane of snow-white hair around his head. Though Pelinal did not seem young, Atkynd had seen very few men of his apparent age with such stark white hair. It made him seem almost otherworldly.
"As I've said already, my lady, there is little point in fretting about keeping one unimportant city," Pelinal growled, though his tone was respectful. "What matters is not holding ground, but in shattering the Ayleid armies while we have them on the run. You cannot afford to squander this opportunity. If we do not pursue that thrice-damned tyrant now, he will have all the time he needs to muster reinforcements."
"But if we are attacked from the rear by the forces from Telepe…." the Paravant countered.
"They would be fools to sally forth from their fortress," Pelinal responded dismissively. "And though it is well-fortified, if there are only two hundred warriors garrisoning it, there is little to worry about."
"If that is so, why should we not attack it before we pursue Glinferen, then?" the Paravant suggested. "There is not even a need for a siege. You could use that white hand of yours again, yes? It proved quite effective in the last battle."
Pelinal grimaced, looking down. "I… must confess, my lady, that is not a technique that I use lightly," he muttered. "While it is powerful, it is also potentially deadly. I will not explain the specifics of it, but it both channels and consumes a great deal of energy. Each time I use it, the chances of it backfiring upon me increase substantially, and in the worst scenario, it could destroy me as well. You would no longer have a champion to serve you. I only dared use it in the last battle because it was a moment of desperation against a substantially superior force, one which required an equally drastic response." He straightened up and once more met her gaze, adding, "You should not come to rely upon it, especially since in most circumstances, my skill with arms should prove more than sufficient."
"I shall take that into consideration," the Paravant nodded, seeming unperturbed by Pelinal's revelation. "Nevertheless, that simply reinforces my point that we cannot pursue Glinferen straightaway. We have shattered the armies of Veyond and Arpenia, which allows us time to build our own forces as well. Veyond is nearby, and we should take advantage of it to build our forces with freed slaves and to supply our men." Pelinal exhaled slowly, and the Paravant added, "Regardless of which course of action we choose to pursue, Telepe remains a threat. Even if the fortress is only garrisoned by two hundred soldiers, there is still a chance the Ayleids could retake it. At best, that would cut us off from supplies, and at worst, that army could attack our rear. We must deal with Telepe before we continue our campaign."
Pelinal sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "Then how do you propose that we hold the city and negate the threat that Telepe poses? We do not have the men necessary to do both. I doubt we even have the men necessary to do one."
"If I may?" Atkynd piped up, stepping forward. "I have a proposition that might solve that dilemma."
The Paravant and Pelinal both turned towards him, blinking at him in surprise, as though realizing for the first time that he had been standing there. Pelinal's eyes suddenly widened, a furious snarl twisting his face. Before Atkynd knew what was happening, a strong hand grabbed him by his cloak and yanked him backwards, nearly throttling him. At the same time, Pelinal's sword cleaved the air in a short arc where Atkynd's neck had been barely a fraction of a second before.
Atkynd coughed, holding his neck as he landed on his backside. It took him a moment to realize that he had narrowly avoided death. When he did, his heart began slamming against his ribs, and a cold sweat broke out all over his body. Before anyone could move, the Paravant shouted, "Hold, Pelinal!"
The knight's blue eyes fixed themselves on Atkynd, and he suddenly felt very much like a rabbit being stared down by a snake. "Forgive me, my lady," he snarled in a dangerously low voice, lowering his sword, and pointing it at Atkynd, who flinched away from the tip of the blade. "I hadn't realized an elf had infiltrated our army. You needn't worry. It shall be dispatched-"
"Hold, Pelinal!" the Paravant repeated in a firmer voice, stepping between them with a stern look. "You will not harm this one."
Atkynd could see a muscle twitching in Pelinal's jaw. He was clearly struggling to obey the Paravant's command – Atkynd could even see his sword hand shaking with indecision. Eventually, however, he slowly withdrew his blade from Atkynd's throat, growling reluctantly, "As you command, my lady."
Atkynd remained on the ground, breathing rapidly, until a large, hairy hand extended towards him. He took the hand, and Morihaus effortlessly pulled him to his feet, then caught him on the shoulder as he stumbled forward. As he straightened up, Atkynd murmured, "Thank you for saving me."
"Mm. Exercise caution around my uncle," Morihaus rumbled in a low voice. "He does not take kindly to elves."
"I'm… only half-elven," Atkynd murmured. "And half-Nedic."
"That would explain why you survived," Pelinal snarled. "Else I would not have hesitated. Still, a mongrel elf is still an elf-"
"Pelinal!" the Paravant exclaimed. "Silence!" The knight bowed reluctantly, but continued to glare at Atkynd as she sighed and turned to him. "My apologies, Atkynd. You claimed that you may have a solution to this problem?"
Atkynd shot a wary look at the Whitestrake. Anger was starting to replace fear, and he hesitated for a moment, considering whether he should indeed help the rebels if he was going to be a target for Pelinal's wrath. Yet, when he turned back to the Paravant and saw her genuinely apologetic expression, he relented, forcing himself to relinquish his anger and focus on her instead.
"If this situation cannot be resolved through force of arms, then perhaps a diplomatic solution might yield a result you can accept," Atkynd said. He then spent the next few minutes laying out his plan. From time to time, Pelinal tried to interrupt, but the Paravant silenced him with a look. When Atkynd finally finished, a thoughtful silence hung over the tent.
Pelinal was the first to break the silence. "No! Absolutely not!" he growled, turning to the Paravant. "My lady, you cannot heed this elf's advice. It speaks words of trickery… treachery, even! What he proposes would surrender our gains, aid our enemies-!"
"You have already stated that you cannot hope to hold Veyond, no matter what you do," Atkynd pointed out. "This way, you do not have to."
"This is not a solution!" Pelinal snapped. "I believe Glinferen poses the greater threat, but if we truly must turn our attention to Telepe, then it would be better to put it to the sword!"
"This war will be very long indeed if you do not prove yourself willing to engage in diplomacy," Atkynd countered calmly, turning to the Paravant. "This plan will show that you are amenable to negotiation when warfare proves itself unnecessary. Else you shall have to drown Cyrod in an ocean of blood before you can free your countrymen."
"Then let us hope the elves can swim!" Pelinal snapped. "I would follow no other path!"
"Then it's fortunate that you are not the one leading this rebellion, isn't it?" Atkynd shot back coldly. Pelinal's eyes widened with fury, but Atkynd held his ground. The knight hesitated, and Atkynd saw his eyes flicker as he recalled the Paravant's command not to harm him. A low growl bubbled in his throat, but he didn't do more than glower.
The Paravant's gaze flickered between the pair, and then she turned to Morihaus. "General? What do you think?" she asked quietly.
The man-bull had been silently pondering Atkynd's suggestion with his arms folded over his chest, and only when prompted did he look up. "I agree with my uncle that under most circumstances, this proposal is tantamount to admitting surrender. However… in this instance, the Manmer has a point. If the other party agrees – and acts in good faith to uphold their end of this bargain – this will indeed allow us to pursue all of our objectives. As he pointed out, it would also signal that you are open to negotiation, which may prove useful in future interactions with the Ayleids."
"And if negotiation fails?" Pelinal snarled.
"Then you may still pursue a military course of action instead," Atkynd pointed out. "You lose nothing by at least attempting diplomacy." When Pelinal continued to glare at him, he added drily, "Furthermore, if I fail and offend the other party, I may yet lose my head, and you needn't 'suffer my prattling any longer.'"
The Paravant suddenly burst out laughing as Atkynd sarcastically echoed Pelinal's words, and even Morihaus quickly stifled a chuckle. Pelinal regarded Atkynd venomously out of the corner of his eye, then reluctantly muttered, "True… in that case, some good may yet come out of this coward's mewling."
Morihaus brought his hand away from his mouth, returning his gaze to the Paravant. "Ultimately, it is your decision, my lady," he rumbled.
The Paravant bit her bottom lip while Atkynd gazed at her patiently. After considering for several long moments, she finally looked up and nodded. "Very well. We shall attempt negotiation. What do you require?"
"Aside from the… proof of our claims that I requested?" Atkynd asked. "Which of your centurions is the most personally loyal to you? Who would obey any orders you gave, so long as they came from your mouth?"
The Paravant tilted her head, but after a moment, replied, "Gallo, without question."
"Then I would like him to accompany me. He should also bring a century consisting of those you deem patient, loyal, and cool-headed," Atkynd said. "You may also wish to include some of your wounded in this century. Now, before we march, send your men to strip the Ayleid corpses of their armor, and see that they're equipped with it. If we can clean it before tomorrow, even better."
"Why?" Pelinal asked slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Why not ask for our most powerful warriors? Why does the appearance of their armor matter?"
"When conducting negotiations, an impressive showing is far more important than actual combat prowess," Atkynd explained. "It doesn't matter how skilled a warrior is if he cannot intimidate an enemy into believing he is not worth fighting. If you're asking why I'm requesting loyal warriors, though… if all goes well, loyalty will matter far more than strength. Especially in the days to come."
The Paravant nodded, then turned to Morihaus. "Would you please assign a few men to strip the Ayleid corpses of their armor? We have plenty to choose from, so selecting pieces that fit the men should not prove too difficult a task."
"As you wish, my lady," Morihaus muttered, bowing his head. Then he glanced at Atkynd. "While he is seeing to this task, I would recommend that we advance on Veyond to assess the situation there. No matter the outcome of this plan, we still require supplies, and as Veyond currently lacks an army, we should have little difficulty in securing the city."
"Agreed," the Paravant nodded, before turning back to Atkynd. "When you have completed your task, meet us in Veyond. Depending on the results, we will then determine our next objective."
"Very well," Atkynd nodded. "In the meantime, I can help retrieve armor-"
"No," the Paravant said gently. "You get some rest."
Atkynd hesitated. "I… don't mind aiding the men," he protested.
"I appreciate that, but I want you rested and alert. It will do us little good if your mind and tongue are not both sharp when you arrive at Telepe," the Paravant chuckled. "The men may be tired, but they have the luxury of resting once they've collected enough armor. You, on the other hand, must depart immediately in the morning. Go now. Get as much sleep as you can, and when dawn breaks, we will have a century assembled for you to lead to Telepe."
"…As you say," Atkynd finally agreed reluctantly, inclining his head. "If there's nothing else, then…." He turned to leave, but paused when he saw the Paravant gazing at him with her head tilted, a curious expression on her face.
"A question, if you don't mind?" the Paravant asked. "Which sign were you born under?"
Atkynd blinked, surprised by the sudden, random question. "…The Serpent," he replied slowly.
The Paravant's haunting blue eyes widened for a moment, and a smile slowly crept across her face at his response. "Indeed?" she murmured. Then she began chuckling to herself. "Fate truly is curious, isn't it? Thank you, Atkynd. Please, get some rest."
Atkynd continued to stare at her, perplexed, until Pelinal cleared his throat and dropped his hand to his sword. Atkynd shot him a glare, then inclined his head again as he walked out of the tent. The Paravant's question lingered in his head as he made his way back to his tent, though when he laid down on the ground, he pushed it out of his mind. There was no point in trying to decipher the cryptic questions of a woman who conversed with gods.
Sunlight tickled Atkynd's eyelashes the next morning through a gap in the tent, tugging him into wakefulness. He groaned to himself, briefly considering wrapping himself up in his cloak and turning back over, but then he abruptly became aware of sharp pains shooting through his body. The wounds in his shoulder and leg began throbbing, prying him completely awake, and his eyes slowly cracked open, only for him to squint and grunt to himself as a ray of sunlight burned the corner of his eye. He sighed to himself, remembering that he had a task to complete this morning, and that he didn't have time to tarry. Reluctantly, he pushed himself up, stretching his sore muscles and rolling his neck.
A soft groan to his left startled him, and he jerked his head around to see Tari curled up on the ground beside him. Her back was pressed into his thigh, and she was breathing softly, completely swallowed by a deep sleep. He noticed dark circles under her eyes, and upon remembering that she hadn't been in the tent when he had bedded down the night before, Atkynd realized that she must have been up all night tending the wounded. He briefly considered waking her to let her know he was departing, but he decided that she clearly needed the rest. After gazing at her a moment longer, he reached up and undid his cloak, then draped it over her prone form. Tari smiled sleepily and pulled the cloak tighter around herself, curling up more. A slight, fond smile crossed Atkynd's lips as well as he crawled out of the tent and into the cool, early morning air.
Upon emerging from the tent, the sounds of a centurion shouting orders reached his ears. Atkynd turned around, and his eyebrows rose with surprise. In the center of the camp was a full century of human warriors dressed in Ayleid armor. Over the course of the previous night, they had evidently managed to loot enough breastplates, bracers, greaves, and helmets to outfit one hundred men, and perhaps more impressively, there were few traces of filth on their gleaming bronze armor. Each warrior clutched a bronze-tipped spear in their right hands, and a round, bronze-coated shield in their left. There was some variation with individual sidearms – some had opted for a sword, while others favored an axe or a mace – but all were now as fully armed and equipped as any fighting force that Atkynd had ever seen. Based on appearance alone, this was no longer a motley band of ragged human slaves, but a unit of hardened, battle-ready soldiers.
"Impressive, aren't they?" a voice asked smugly behind him. Atkynd glanced over his shoulder to see the Paravant striding across the camp towards him, with Morihaus hovering behind her. She nodded to him by way of greeting before stopping short beside him, her eyes on the platoon. "I must confess, at first I didn't understand why you placed so much importance upon their appearance. Seeing them like this, though, makes me feel as though we are building a real army. I suspect even our former masters would hesitate if they laid eyes upon us now."
"I'm more impressed with how quickly you were able to assemble so many complete sets of armor," Atkynd replied, folding his arms over his chest.
"It wasn't difficult. I simply told each man in the century to find an Ayleid roughly his or her size, remove their armor, and determine if it fit them," Morihaus explained. "Then Centurion Gallo had each of them thoroughly clean their armor before allowing them to rest for the night."
"They did an excellent job," Atkynd admitted. He could see few signs of grime clinging to the gleaming bronze. "This will make for quite the show." Then he lowered his voice. "Were they also able to find the other thing I asked for?"
"Here," the Paravant replied, holding out a small burlap sack. Atkynd pried it open and peered inside, then nodded grimly to himself as he quickly tied it shut again. "Will that be enough?" she asked, her smile faltering slightly.
"Perhaps not. But I believe we have a fair chance of success," Atkynd said encouragingly.
The Paravant nodded, her smile returning, just as a man apparently in his mid-forties noticed them and approached them. He inclined his balding head towards the Paravant, then turned to face Atkynd. The man's sharp brown eyes were set deep in a lined, weathered face, and though Atkynd didn't sense the seething hatred Pelinal held for him, it was clear that the centurion was suspicious of him.
"Emissary," he tersely greeted Atkynd. "I am Centurion Gallo. I have been informed of the details of our plan to take Telepe."
"Very good," Atkynd nodded. "Do you have any questions or concerns?"
"Questions, no. Concerns, many," Gallo replied shortly. "I do not approve of this scheme." Then he straightened his back and added, "But if the Paravant commands it, I shall follow her orders. I am at your disposal. We can depart whenever you're ready."
"Thank you," Atkynd said warmly. "Form up your men, and I'll join you shortly. I simply need to see to my horse."
"Very good," Gallo replied curtly. He nodded to the Paravant again and spun on his heel, barking orders at his men. Atkynd, meanwhile, walked over to Emero, who was already bridled and ready for him to mount. The Paravant followed him, watching him curiously.
Atkynd walked over to Emero and quietly checked the horse, who was behaving surprisingly docilely this morning – he only let out a soft nicker or two of annoyance at being inspected. Atkynd then took a moment to tie his hair back, though as he did, he frowned upon feeling a layer of stubble growing on his chin, cheeks, and jawline. He suddenly realized that the last time he had shaved had been upon departing from Nenalata; since then, he'd had other, more pressing concerns. Still, he decided, there wasn't enough time to worry about shaving now. He doubted the Ayleid commander would notice.
"You're not wearing your cloak," the Paravant remarked as Atkynd swung himself onto Emero's back, ignoring his horse's irritated whinny.
"As I'm not representing my kingdom or clan in this matter, it would be inappropriate," Atkynd explained as he tied the sack to Emero's saddlebags. "Besides, Tari seemed to want to keep it for herself."
The Paravant chuckled, folding her hands in front of herself. "She was awake all night, so I'm hardly surprised she's still tired. I believe she only fell asleep a very short while ago."
"Please ensure that she isn't disturbed, then?" Atkynd requested.
"I shall. And I shall ensure she's aware that you will return shortly," the Paravant assured him, her eyes dancing with amusement. Atkynd ignored the mischievous look she was giving him, instead nodding to her gratefully, and then he nudged Emero towards the centurion.
"Are you prepared?" Gallo asked shortly as Atkynd approached.
"I am. Lead on," Atkynd invited the centurion.
"Very well. Warriors! At the ready!" Gallo shouted. The men in the century straightened up, holding their spears and shields tightly, awaiting his next command. "March!"
The soldiers immediately set off at a brisk walk, keeping pace with each other as they approached a makeshift bridge that had been built across the pond leading into the glade. Atkynd stopped behind them, and while he waited for the platoon to cross first, he glanced back over his shoulder. His gaze fell on the Paravant, and when she caught his eye, she gave him a small, encouraging nod before shouting after them, "Good luck!" Atkynd waved at her as he guided Emero onto the bridge after the century. Hopefully they wouldn't need it… but he doubted his ploy would work without it.
The trek through the swamp took the better part of two days, which seemed to pass by both far faster, and far more slowly than Atkynd had anticipated. Once they were out of the camp, the warriors were permitted to relax a little and chat with each other as they walked, though they were required to remain roughly in formation. Atkynd tried sparking a conversation with some of them, but the men immediately quieted down whenever he began speaking to them. He wasn't sure if it was a standing order not to talk with him for the sake of discipline, or simply that the men weren't comfortable around him, but he soon stopped trying. He then tried to converse with the centurion, but his questions were met with brusque replies that provided him only with the information he requested, nothing more. Gallo clearly had no interest in sharing personal stories with him, and after his third attempt, Atkynd gave up entirely. As such, he rode in silence beside the column, listening quietly as the men swapped stories, but refraining from interjecting himself. It wasn't long before he began to sorely miss having Tari or Pasare as a companion.
Thankfully, the roads were in better condition than both he and Gallo had expected, and they were able to make good time, despite the occasional instance of standing water that they had to skirt around. Towards the end of the first day, they made camp near the edge of the Niben River. Shortly before the dusk, the men quickly pitched their tents, gathered firewood and water, and began cooking their meals. Atkynd had brought some spare rations from Tari's pack, but Gallo also provided him with a few handfuls of flour and some salt, as well as a block of white goat cheese and some oil. With the supplies he was given, Atkynd was able to make a crude flatbread in his copper pot, which he smeared with the oil and ate with the cheese. He dined alone, apart from the other men, and once he was finished, he realized he had nothing else to do, so he turned in early.
The next day, they set about crossing the Niben River. Fortunately, a series of long wooden bridges had been constructed that connected the two banks of the river to a large island in the center. It took the army a while to cross, but once again they managed to set a good pace, especially considering how many men Gallo had to manage.
As they traversed the island, Atkynd noticed that it was easily large enough to hold a settlement, and he wondered why the King of Veyond hadn't tried. His unspoken question was soon answered, however, when about halfway across the island he spotted the distinctive white stone of an Ayleid structure. A fortress had apparently been erected some time ago, but was now half-sunk in the soft, black mud of the island. As the unit approached it, Atkynd noticed a small figure lingering in the shadows of one of the arches. Peering closer, he could just make out a deformed green face leering at them from the entryway, one hand clutching a crude stone spear. Soon, Atkynd noticed several more goblins crouching under the stone structure, leering at the century as it passed by. Before Atkynd could point them out to Gallo, the centurion changed course slightly, giving the sunken fort a wide berth. The goblins watched the warriors warily, but made no move to attack them – evidently, they were well-armed enough that the tribe wasn't interested in a fight. So, Atkynd contemplated, while a permanent settlement on the island would be ideal to control the southern mouth of the Niben, building it would take more advanced engineering techniques to keep it from sinking into the muck… and enough of a military force to drive off the goblin tribe inhabiting the island. Until then, there was nothing to be done.
It was midday by the time the unit had finished traversing the island and had arrived on the opposite bank of the Niben, and by mid-afternoon, the fortress of Telepe crept into view between the trees. The front small, white, square fortress was dominated by an imposing sculpture of a crouching Ayleid warrior clutching a longsword, almost daring any interlopers to throw themselves against the ramparts in a futile attempt to take it.
As they neared the fortress, Atkynd stripped off his riding tunic and changed into his formal grey one, then led the way towards the imposing stone structure. A couple of guards were milling about on the walls, and one of them soon spotted the approaching century. In moments, a dozen archers were leaning over the edge of the ramparts, aiming arrows at the approaching platoon. Gallo immediately ordered his men to raise their shields, but Atkynd held up his hand, kicking Emero into a trot and willingly closing within range of the archers' arrows.
"Hail at the gate!" he shouted up to the guards. "We are messengers, bringing word from Veyond! We humbly request an audience with the garrison commander!"
"A messenger, are you? Mere messengers are rarely accompanied by hundreds of warriors," one of the elves on the walls snarled back.
"Merely a precaution. The swamp is dangerous, as you well know," Atkynd replied easily. "I assure you, our intentions are peaceful."
"No… no! They lie!" a panicked voice suddenly shouted from the battlements. Atkynd blinked in surprise as the other elves turned towards a wild-eyed Ayleid standing on the walls, staring down at the century with an almost crazed look. "They're the rebel slaves from the Blackwood! They've come to kill us! The… the silver warrior… he'll-!"
"I assume you're one of the soldiers from Veyond?" Atkynd inferred, folding his hands over Emero's reins. "You escaped the battle and made your way here, yes?"
"He did," another elf shouted back down, frowning. "He's been telling tales of how Veyond's army was utterly destroyed in a battle by a silver knight with a white hand."
"I see. Well, that's not a mere tale," Atkynd admitted. "But to assuage your fears, the silver knight isn't with us. This contingent is our entire force, so you have little to fear from us. After all, how could these few soldiers truly hope to take such a magnificent fortress?"
"Only a fool would try. Though, admittedly, we don't know how foolish you are," another soldier shot back. The soldiers on the walls began chortling, though they were stopped short when Atkynd laughed along with them.
"How right you are! Suffice to say, not foolish enough, though," he replied cheerfully. "So! May we speak with the garrison commander?" When the elves traded hesitant looks, he added, "We bring news about Veyond. It's rather urgent."
The warriors continued to hesitate, muttering to each other as the frightened soldier on the walls furiously shook his head, pleading with them not to indulge the humans. Finally, one of them hurried down the ramparts and disappeared behind the walls of the fortress while the rest kept their bows trained on Atkynd. A few minutes later, the stone gates of the fortress opened, and an imperious Ayleid clad in gleaming bronze armor and a loose green cloak walked briskly towards Atkynd. He seemed to be roughly middle-aged, with long, grey hair and what seemed to be a perpetually severe expression chiseled into his rough face. Atkynd dismounted Emero and motioned for Gallo and his men to step back so that he and the commander could speak on relatively neutral ground between the two armies.
"Well met," the commander said, though his tone indicated that Atkynd was anything but welcome. "I am Karanbal, the chieftain of this fortress." He regarded Atkynd silently for a moment, then continued, "The past few days have been quite strange. First, a soldier that I recognize as part of Veyond's garrison arrives, begging for sanctuary and telling tales of how the king was defeated by a human army led by a strange warrior clad in white and silver. Then, hardly a day later, slaves playing at being warriors arrive on my doorstep clad in the arms of my kin. Tell me, messenger… what am I to make of this madness?"
Atkynd folded his hands behind his back as he replied calmly, "You may make of it what you will, chieftain. However, the truth of the matter is that the combined armies of Veyond, Arpenia, and Atatar were soundly defeated in the Blackwood by a human army led by a woman called the Paravant. The King of Veyond is dead, and the city has been occupied by the rebels."
"Indeed?" Karanbal asked rhetorically. "That seems a rather poor jest."
"It would be, but we have proof that I am not speaking falsehoods," Atkynd retorted. "For one, you have the testimony of your soldier. Furthermore, whether you believe his tales, you can also see that the men behind me are clad in the arms of not just Veyond, but Arpenia and Atatar as well. Unless you believe they raided three separate armories, the most likely story is that they were looted from the bodies of slain warriors. And if that does not convince you, then I have one more item to share with you."
Atkynd turned around and undid the sack hanging from Emero's blanket. He pulled it open, then beckoned Karanbal to look inside. The elf eyed him warily for a moment, then peered into the bag. Staring back up at them was the severed head of Veyond's former king, his mouth open and a look of terror plastered on his face. Karanbal stared impassively into the sack for a few long moments, then looked up at Atkynd again, scowling.
"Impressive. You've murdered a king," he remarked coldly.
"If being slain in battle constitutes murder now, then yes," Atkynd responded coolly. "You don't seem particularly grieved by his demise. Though I doubt you would shed many tears for a member of a family that insulted your entire line by barring you from the throne," he added pointedly. Karanbal returned his gaze to Atkynd, a deep frown creasing his face.
"You're remarkably well-informed for a messenger," he commented icily.
"One should be, if one intends to conduct diplomacy," Atkynd replied easily. "I'm not simply here as a messenger, chieftain, but as an emissary. I bring not only word of Veyond's fate, but also an offer regarding its future."
"And that is?" Karanbal asked.
"On behalf of the Paravant, we wish to offer you the throne of Veyond," Atkynd announced.
Karanbal stared at Atkynd silently for several long moments, clearly processing Atkynd's statement. "I confess, I cannot fathom what your game is, boy," he said, finally.
"This is no game," Atkynd asserted firmly. "As I said, the Paravant occupies Veyond. As such, she is free to do with it as she pleases, including selecting its new governor. I convinced her that you were the best option."
"To what end?" Karanbal asked suspiciously. "If what you say is true, you have conquered an Ayleid kingdom, a feat no human army has ever accomplished – not even the Thousand Strong of Sedor. Why would you immediately surrender it once again?"
"The Paravant does not seek to rule only one city," Atkynd explained. "She seeks the liberation of all human slaves in Cyrod; her goals do not end at a single city's gates. To that end, she requires capable administrators to oversee the liberated territories. At present, no one in her retinue possesses the skills necessary to properly govern a kingdom – myself included," he added quickly when he saw Karanbal open his mouth. "You, however, are a descendant of the original royal line of Veyond. Disinherited or not, there is no one from the main family to contest your claim any longer. As such, you are the worthiest successor when one considers bloodlines. Furthermore, I understand that you had a noble education, which at the very least must have covered the basics of administering a kingdom. Thus, given the circumstances, you are the best option."
"This is a human rebellion, though, yes?" Karanbal asked slowly. "Again, I wonder, why go through all this trouble to defeat Ayleid armies only to return the lands to elven hands? Why make overtures of peace towards us, rather than slaughter us entirely?"
"Because Cyrod is not inhabited by humans alone," Atkynd explained. "Yes, the Paravant's chief goal is the liberation of humanity, and at present, her army is comprised of former human slaves. What she seeks, however, is to reform all Cyrod. Any who are willing to follow her vision are welcome to do so… in fact, she encourages it. She told me as such when I asked," he added. Truthfully, too – when he had been discussing his plan with her, he had asked if she was willing to accommodate Ayleids who were willing to work with her, and she had agreed without hesitation. "Thus, she will happily extend an offer of friendship to any Ayleids who are willing to ally with her."
"Indeed? I suspect you had some part in that?" Karanbal commented, glancing at Atkynd's pointed ears.
"I encouraged diplomacy, yes. But she sought me out as her emissary, not the other way around," Atkynd replied. "She understands that a war cannot be won the sword alone. Wars are waged so that a more favorable peace may be achieved. The Paravant understands this. She seeks violence only as a means to an end, and if she can achieve her aims without needing to spill blood, so much the better. That's why I came to speak with you, so that we could come to a peaceful agreement without needing to engage in a pointless battle."
"Hm," Karanbal grunted, tapping his fingers against his bicep. "Suppose, then, that I were to agree to your offer to assume the throne of Veyond. I assume that my coronation would not come without stipulations?"
"To secure this alliance, we would ask you to abide by certain terms, yes," Atkynd confirmed.
"…Very well. State them, and then I'll make my decision," Karanabal prompted him.
"As you wish. First, you and your army shall vacate the fortress of Telepe," Atkynd said. "It will be placed under the command of the Paravant's centurion and garrisoned by human forces. You and your men may retain your arms and armor, and they may accompany you back to Veyond as your personal guard."
"Hm? An odd request," Karanbal remarked. "You'd trade a city for a fortress?"
"A practical request, rather," Atkynd corrected him. "As I stated, Veyond no longer has a proper army, if you consider Ayleid warriors alone to be the city's army. Though I doubt that elf you rescued is the only survivor, I imagine that in total, they number less than a hundred right now. Most were scattered and are likely still lost in the swamp. It is safe to assume that your warriors are the only remaining Ayleid 'army' in the region. To that end, I would recommend they accompany you to Veyond for your own protection, lest your human subjects decide to revolt against your weakened forces. You also cannot hope to simultaneously protect Telepe without stretching your remaining forces so thin that you would be unable to protect either one. Should you agree to our alliance, the Paravant's century here will serve as your vanguard on the western bank of the Niben. They will protect your flank and relay messages to you about any approaching enemies, as that is in their best interest as well. With Telepe secured, you'll be free to administer Veyond without needing to worry about guarding this fortress as well."
Karanbal shifted his weight, staying silent for a few moments. Eventually, he asked, "Your next condition?"
"We also request that you provide food, arms, and supplies not only for Telepe, but for the Paravant's advancing army," Atkynd said. "A portion of your harvest should be set aside for her forces. However, you needn't provide any of your Ayleid soldiers to assist in her campaign if you do not wish to."
"If you are demanding tribute, please be direct about it," Karanbal snarled, frowning deeply.
"This is not tribute," Atkynd insisted. "As I've said, you would be our ally, not a vassal. We are not requiring you to swear fealty to the Paravant. Nevertheless, because her army is the one bearing the brunt of retribution from the other Ayleid city-states, it would behoove you to ensure that her army is not defeated. Secure, reliable supply lines are, in her general's opinion, far more vital to conducting war than the skill of soldiers. We would not strip your fields of their entire harvest or ask you to let your people starve, but since the Paravant's army is establishing a buffer that protects you, it is in your best interest to ensure that said buffer remains strong and secure."
"I see," Karanbal said neutrally. "Is that all?"
"There is… one more condition," Atkynd said slowly. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking away uncomfortably. This was going to be the toughest point to sell Karanbal on, and he knew it may well end their negotiations right there. However, the Paravant had insisted that this point was non-negotiable, so he had to put it forth. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Karanbal and said, "You must free all of the slaves in Veyond."
"Out of the question," Karanbal immediately scoffed. "We will not be insulted-!"
"Hear me out!" Atkynd interrupted quickly. "Please, note that I did not say you had to release your slaves into the wilds to fend for themselves. The humans in Veyond would remain under your care and protection. What the Paravant asks is that if you assume the crown of Veyond, you must treat them as your subjects, not your property. They may still work for the Ayleid nobility, but as plebians, not as livestock. They must be granted equal rights under the laws of the land, and no longer subjected to the abuses of their masters. In other words, while they may still be subservient to you, socially they must be treated no worse than an Ayleid commoner."
"Do you have any idea what you're requesting?" Karanbal snapped. "If I put forth such a radical social change, the nobles would have my head!"
"The nobles," Atkynd repeated flatly. "In my homeland, the nobles are expected to serve as part of their kingdom's army, as are their retainers. Is that also the case here in Cyrod?"
"It is…." Karanbal said slowly.
"And as I've stated before, nearly the entire army of Veyond was obliterated in the battle in the Blackwood," Atkynd continued. "As such, I doubt there are many nobles or their retainers left to cause you concern. What should cause you concern, however, is your remaining human population." He folded his hands in front of himself, adding, "With or without your involvement, chieftain, the rebellion against the Ayleid slavemasters has already begun. A small group of human slaves, outnumbered and ill-trained, armed only with wood and stone, managed to defeat the combined forces of three entire Ayleid armies. Consider how inspirational that will be once word spreads across Cyrod. As you said before, this army has already surpassed the achievements of the Thousand Strong of Sedor, not just for their victory in the last battle, but by capturing an entire kingdom… and likely more, as they travel north. When that tale spreads, how many more slaves will it inspire to rise up as well? Especially against weakened kingdoms." Atkynd folded his arms over his chest, hardening his stance. "This is not a threat, chieftain, but a simple fact. The nobility shall be the least of your worries if you choose to treat your human population as slaves rather than subjects."
"Indeed? And suppose I refuse your offer?" Karanbal replied, tilting his head back imperiously as he folded his arms as well.
"Then we must pursue a military option instead," Atkynd replied simply. "Telepe will be besieged, and a bloody battle would no doubt ensue. You may even win, though as your straggler can attest, such an event is highly unlikely. Thousands of Ayleid warriors were unable to defeat a few hundred humans, and that was before they were as well-equipped as any Ayleid army. Or perhaps you believe the tales of the silver warrior to be mere rurmor?" he added, raising his voice and looking past Karanbal, pinning the elf still lingering on the walls with his gaze. "If we must bring him here, he will be furious, you know."
"No! By the Daedra, please, no!" the warrior shrieked. Atkynd bit the corner of his lip to suppress a smirk as he turned back to Karanbal.
"Even if you won, you'd lose dozens of men, either to starvation and disease should you allow a prolonged siege, or to weapons if you choose to wage battle," Atkynd continued. "And so would we. We're as eager to avoid battle as you, which is why we'd much rather reach a peaceful solution. I don't think this offer is particularly difficult to decide upon either. A throne, or a needless fight?"
Karanbal gripped his biceps tightly as he stared at the ground while Atkynd held his breath, awaiting the chieftain's answer. Though he felt he had presented a strong case, there was no guarantee that the Ayleid was going to accept. The most important factor that might ruin this negotiation was pride. He was asking the prospective king to accept almost humiliating conditions in exchange for his throne, and though Karanbal likely had never expected to be offered the chance to rule Veyond, the offer also came with chains no other ruler in Cyrod was bound by.
"You may as well be pressing a blade to my throat, you know," Karanbal said finally, slowly looking up.
"No ruler in the world reigns without blades at their throats," Atkynd countered. "At least with us, you know who's holding the blade, and the wielder has a vested interest in remaining friendly. Otherwise, you'd be staring down the blades of Atatar and Arpenia instead… and their designs would be decidedly more sinister, from what I've seen of Ayleid politics."
"…And what of human politics?" Karanbal asked shrewdly.
"That remains to be determined. But their first act is attempting to establish friendly relations with a potential enemy. That sets a rather good tone, don't you think?" Atkynd pointed out cheekily.
Despite himself, a slight smile twitched at the corner of Karanbal's mouth for a half a second. "I have one request. If I agree to relinquish Telepe, I want ten Ayleid soldiers to remain as part of the garrison. I want forces that I know are loyal to relay messages and information to me. If anything happens to them, I will immediately march on the fortress, and I will see that your men lose their heads."
"…Very well. But they will answer to the centurion and follow his orders so long as they are part of the Telepe garrison, save for when they are given leave to deliver… shall we say bi-weekly messages to you," Atkynd countered.
"…Agreed," Karanbal said after brief consideration. His tone seemed to indicate that he was surprised by Atkynd's willingness to compromise. "It seems we have an accord, then. Allow me a few minutes to gather my men and select those that will remain behind, and then shall depart for Veyond."
Atkynd nodded as Karanbal spun on his heel and walked back into the fortress. Gallo came up beside him, saying in a low voice, "Our negotiations were successful, then?"
"They seem to be," Atkynd confirmed, trying to keep his growing pride and elation from creeping into his voice.
"Mm. I confess, I don't like this," Gallo remarked. Atkynd glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he added, "I will follow the Paravant's commands, but I still believe that we should not be exchanging a mere fortress for an entire city. At the very least, we should install a human ruler-"
"Whom would you nominate for that role?" Atkynd interrupted. "Tell me, do you know anyone in the Paravant's army that could negotiate a trade contract?"
"Well… with time, perhaps-" Gallo hedged.
"What about establishing relations with the other nearby kingdoms? Overseeing the exchange of diplomats to foreign powers? Allocating grain for the winter? Passing laws? Conscripting new armies?" Atkynd continued to press. "Does anyone in her army even know how to read?"
"…Not… to my knowledge, no…." Gallo admitted.
"Now, let me ask you a more personal question," Atkynd continued. "Do you care for your men, and for this rebellion?"
"Of course!" Gallo said firmly.
"And if you were given a stock of grain, could you dole it out evenly? Could you assign watch shifts? Send men to patrol the jungle from time to time? Ensure their arms and armor are well-kept?" Atkynd asked.
"Yes. I have been for months," Gallo confirmed. "Why-?"
"Because that is the role of a garrison commander, and that is why the Paravant chose you to take command of this fortress," Atkynd replied. "She does not necessarily need a human king in this region, but she does need a loyal commander. Your role is vital, as you must ensure that this chieftain does not turn against the Paravant. You are, in essence, a dagger pointed at his heart as much as you are a shield against enemies coming down the western Niben. Should he betray us, then you must be willing to hold this line until the Paravant can decide how to respond. Until then, simply ensure that this king upholds his part of the alliance, and with luck, there will be no need for further intervention. Does that make sense?"
"…It does," Gallo sighed reluctantly. "Though I do wish that we could continue fighting alongside her."
"Yes, but she trusts no one else with this task," Atkynd assured the centurion. "I specifically asked for her most loyal centurion, and she selected you without hesitation. And you may yet see more action as the war progresses. If the enemy Ayleids believe the western Niben is a weak point to attack, you may well see more battle than any other part of the army."
"Well, that should at least placate the men," Gallo said drily. Karanbal reappeared in the gates of Telepe, leading his forces out of the fort. The centurion turned towards him and added, "We shall assume our post, then. I will assign five men to accompany you as a guard back to Veyond to ensure your safety. The Paravant would not be pleased if you were treacherously slain during the return journey."
"No, but I imagine the Whitestrake would," Atkynd muttered. Gallo blinked at him, then let out a short, barking laugh. He clapped Atkynd on the shoulder, then shouted for his men to follow him into the fortress, save for five soldiers, who formed a short line behind Atkynd. Karanbal stopped in front of him, gazing directly into Atkynd's eyes.
"Let us depart immediately," Karanbal announced.
"I agree," Atkynd said. "It will take us some time to cross the island to the south, so-"
"I'm sorry? Cross the island?" Karanbal echoed, frowning. Atkynd hesitated, tilting his head. "No, we're simply going to take one of my ships back to Veyond. It's far swifter and safer that way." An awkward silence hung between them for a few moments, and then Karanbal asked slowly, "Did… did you travel overland to Telepe? Were there not ships in Veyond's docks?"
"Ah… in truth, we… wished to make haste to Telepe, so we didn't consider that option," Atkynd admitted sheepishly. Karanbal stared at him blankly, clearly reassessing his entire opinion about the Manmer emissary. Shaking his head in disbelief, he began walking past Atkynd.
"Thankfully, there are also docks near Telepe," Karanbal announced. "Come. Our return journey shall be much swifter, I assure you," he added.
Atkynd straightened his back and followed Karanbal, ignoring the sneering, chortling laughter of the Ayleid army behind him.
The short voyage across the Niben was indeed much faster than their slog to Telepe, but it was still well after dark by the time the ship pulled into the harbor of Veyond. A dozen other ships were tethered to the stone dockyard, unmanned and unguarded. The gates of Veyond were shut, and beyond the walls, Atkynd could make out the low tents of the Paravant set up around it. Humans loitered on the walls of the city, chatting easily with the rebels below, with no Ayleid guards in sight. Atkynd was perplexed by the sight, briefly wondering why the rebels hadn't entered the city, but he decided not to question it.
Before they could disembark from the ship, Atkynd touched one of his guards on the arm and whispered in a low voice to her, "Go fetch the Paravant, General Morihaus, and Whitestrake. Have her accompanied by a dozen guards in full armor, and tell her to hurry to meet us here before the rest of her army is in sight. We do not want Karanbal to renege on this deal if he sees how few soldiers there really are."
The young woman nodded and immediately sprang off the ship, sprinting across the soft ground. Karanbal shot Atkynd a look of suspicion mixed with curiosity, but Atkynd simply smiled in return. "Merely telling her to ask the Paravant to meet us here," he explained.
"I see…." Karanbal said slowly, before scowling up at Veyond. "You do not seem to have sacked the city yet."
"It would do us little good to present you with a charred throne, wouldn't it?" Atkynd pointed out.
Karanbal raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing else. A short while later, a small group of figures appeared out of the shadows and stepped into the cool light of the magical white stones illuminating the docks. The Paravant walked at the head of a contingent with her hands behind her back, flanked by an unarmed Morihaus, and Pelinal, once again dressed in full armor. Six guards walked on each side of the group, though Atkynd was well aware that either of the Paravant's guardians were likely more than enough to defeat Karanbal's small force by themselves. Still, it was the show of force that was important.
"Well met," the Paravant said gracefully, smiling warmly at the Ayleid king. Morihaus stopped several feet back, touching Pelinal's arm to halt the silver warrior as well, much to Atkynd's relief. "You are the chieftain that Atkynd here was sent to negotiate with?"
"I am. You may call me Karanbal," the Ayleid replied imperiously.
"Very good! Atkynd has informed you of our terms, I presume?" the Paravant asked.
"He has," Karanbal answered brusquely.
"And since you are here with your army, I trust that means you accept?" the Paravant continued.
"You've hardly given me a choice," Karanbal grumbled.
"You could have declined," the Paravant replied calmly. "However, I am glad that more violence was unnecessary." She paused, then added slowly, "Atkynd informed me that my demand about the fate of the humans in your city might be contentious. I would like your assurance that the men in your city will be free subjects."
"…I am not pleased about it," Karanbal admitted slowly. "However, your emissary made a strong case for their liberation, and I have reluctantly decided that it is in our best interest to accommodate your request. There will be no slavery in Veyond under my rule… so long as the power of the Ayleid rulers is not otherwise broken, and our rights are not infringed upon."
"You have my word. So long as the people of Veyond remain free and are treated as equal subjects under the law, the Ayleid nobility may retain their stations and titles," the Paravant agreed.
Karanbal inhaled slowly, clearly steeling himself. "Then we have an accord. From this moment onward, Veyond will be your ally. We will provide you with supplies to wage your war, so long as you swear to aid us in our wars in return. Telepe is under the command of your centurion… and the humans in Veyond, from this moment onward, are subjects of the crown of Veyond."
The Paravant smiled brightly at him, and she wordlessly brought her hands around from behind her back, revealing that she was holding the helm-crown of Veyond. She took a step forward and handed it to Karanbal, saying in a soft voice, "We gratefully accept your friendship, King of Veyond."
Karanbal's blue eyes widened, then he slowly reached out and took the polished, golden helm. He turned it over in his hands, almost pensively, and then he swiftly lifted it and placed it on his head, crowning himself king. Atkynd glanced at the Paravant and winked at her out of the eye the king couldn't see. That was a nice touch, whether she realized it or not. By allowing Karanbal to crown himself, she wasn't asserting authority over him, merely cementing an alliance by turning the city over to him. The Paravant smiled at him briefly as Karanbal turned to his men.
"Let us make haste for the palace, then," Karanbal announced. He glanced at the Paravant and added, "As per our agreement, your men will be fed and watered. Please, join us inside the walls when you're ready." He then glanced towards the ramparts, where the humans watched him expectantly, and he shouted, "Open the gates!"
The Paravant surreptitiously nodded to the men, who grinned and hurried along the walls to open them for the new king. As the Ayleids turned and marched towards the city, the Paravant turned to Atkynd, who was unable to resist smiling smugly at her as she gazed at him.
"Veyond is now our ally, and Telepe is yours," Atkynd announced as turned to face her. "I am also pleased to report that not a single life was lost in the process."
"Indeed! Well done!" the Paravant praised him.
"Yes, well done," Whitestrake growled. "You surrendered an entire city in exchange for a remote fortress. Truly, an equitable trade."
"Enough, Pelinal," the Paravant chastised him. "Regardless of how it was accomplished, so long as King Karanbal honors our alliance, our rear is now secure, and we will be receiving regular, fresh supplies. I couldn't ask for a better outcome. And we've gained something far more valuable from this. By securing this alliance, we can now rightfully claim that we are willing to negotiate with other kingdoms that are willing to do the same. We no longer need only rely on our blades."
"A good blade is all you need. And it's still too good for these elves, I say," Pelinal snarled.
"Would you accompany me, Atkynd?" the Paravant asked, not bothering to respond to Pelinal's comment.
"Of course," Atkynd nodded. He folded his hands behind his back as she turned and led him away from the docks, guiding him towards the camp. As they neared the tents, several men – now dressed in bronze, Ayleid-made armor, Atkynd noticed – peeked out of their tents, eyeing the Paravant and Atkynd curiously. She stopped a short distance from the camp and raised her voice.
"Men of Cyrod!" she announced. "I am pleased to announce a most remarkable accomplishment! Thanks to Atkynd's efforts, the new King of Veyond is now our ally and will support us henceforth!"
Her proclamation was met with some scattered nodding and a bit of applause, but many of the men simply didn't know how to react to the news. Atkynd wasn't surprised – it wasn't as though most of the slaves had any concept of diplomacy, so they likely simply didn't grasp how monumental an achievement it was. Still, if the Paravant was happy, so were they, he supposed.
However, the Paravant wasn't finished. "We have also achieved a miraculous victory! The fortress of Telepe is now ours! Atkynd here wrested control of it from the Ayleid king, and it now rests in our hands! What's more, he claimed it without a fight, without losing a single man!"
That caught their attention. Immediately, a jubilant cheer erupted from the men. Atkynd flushed as he glanced at the Paravant. The way she'd worded her statement, it almost made it sound as though he had conquered the fortress, rather than simply traded for it. He wasn't sure if she was intentionally misleading the men, but he was still uncomfortable. She ignored his wary glance, continuing, "The King of Veyond, has also agreed to accommodate us for the night! Let us enter the city and celebrate our newly forged friendship! In the morning, we will march north and continue our campaign to liberate Cyrod!"
The men roared again, just as the gates of Veyond swung open, inviting the men inside. As the men surged into the city, some of them crowded around Atkynd, shouting praises at him, and clapping him on the head and shoulders while congratulating him on his victory. Atkynd caught the Paravant's eye, and when she noticed his flustered expression, she grinned mischievously at him, then hurried into the city before he could protest. Then the men were around him once again, and he felt himself being pushed inexorably into Veyond as well.
A raucous celebration soon followed. Wine and bread flowed freely, and the warriors began mingling with the newly liberated slaves. Many in the Paravant's army sought Atkynd out to offer their congratulations for "capturing" Telepe. At first, he tried to explain what had really happened, but the joyous shouts of the men drowned out his futile attempts. Eventually, he decided to simply enjoy the euphoric celebration. There would be plenty of time to set the record straight later, he decided, as one of the warriors pressed a goblet of wine onto him. For now, he may as well enjoy the hospitality that Veyond offered… that he had won, he wryly amended himself, downing the wine, whereupon another was immediately pushed into his hands.