Chapter 24
Duel at the Tor
Emero meandered up the steep path away from Sancre Tor with Telepe huddled on his back, his cloak clutched tightly around him. It had taken him almost a half an hour to return from the city, and between the harsh wind stinging his eyes and the fact that the wagons were perched on a hilltop just inside the treeline, he nearly missed them altogether. Fortunately, Pasare had been awaiting his return, and she whistled sharply to draw his attention before he walked by the camp entirely.
Edanu and the other men had set up campfires while waiting for him, where they were frying simple biscuits made from flour, salt, and fat. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they were quick and easy to make, and surprisingly filling. One of the warriors offered one to Telepe as he approached, though Telepe politely waved it away. Edanu swallowed the last of his biscuit, then pushed himself up and dusted his hands off, trudging over as Telepe dismounted from his horse.
"Welcome back," he greeted him. Telepe nodded, and then his eyes briefly flicked away from the centurion's face as Pelinal approached, wearing a sour expression. "Were your negotiations successful?"
"Unfortunately, I was unable to secure an alliance with King Haromir-" Telepe began. Before he could continue, Pelinal let out a derisive scoff.
"Thus, we've wasted our time freezing out here when we should have been preparing for battle," the knight growled.
Telepe glowered at the white-haired knight, then turned back to Edanu and continued, "Nevertheless, I believe I have found a way for us to take Sancre Tor without needing to spill any blood."
Pelinal's sneer disappeared, replaced by a bemused expression, while Edanu raised an eyebrow with skeptical but intrigued curiosity. "Go on," the centurion pressed.
Telepe turned to Pelinal. "If you challenge Haromir to a duel for Sancre Tor, I believe he will accept your proposal."
Edanu's lips parted slightly, while Pelinal let out a snort of disbelief. "How?!" he demanded. "How could you have possibly convinced him to gamble his city in a duel he cannot win?!"
"You cannot truly think me foolish enough to accept such a proposal," Haromir responded once he had stopped staring in disbelief at Telepe's suggestion.
Telepe held up his hand. "Simply consider it for a moment. You claim that you do not wish to waste lives or resources in battle, yes? This way, you wouldn't need to expend a single life, a single coin, to secure a victory over the rebellion. The only ones who would need to engage in combat are yourself and the Paravant's champion."
"I have no reason to engage the rebellion in the first place!" Haromir exclaimed. "I have no quarrel with them."
"No, you don't," Telepe agreed calmly, folding his hands behind his back. "Particularly if you are content with the status quo."
"I don't wish to participate in this war at all!" Haromir insisted.
"Then you are satisfied with the status quo?" Telepe repeated. "You claim that you desire the respect of the other kingdoms, yes? Particularly those that stand against the rebellion? Then what better way to earn their respect than by facing the Paravant's champion? Not only would you avoid risking your men, you would also show your strength and courage by personally facing a foe that has rattled even the mightiest of the Ayleid kingdoms."
"And what is there to be gained by putting my life on the line?!" Haromir demanded. "The respect of my fellow Ayleids does me little good if I'm slain!"
"Whoever said that this duel need be to the death?" Telepe pointed out simply.
Haromir hesitated, a confused look settling over his face. "What do you mean?"
"When I was told that conflicts in this realm can be settled by duels, I was under the impression that they needn't be to the death. Or was I mistaken?" Telepe asked.
"Well… no, nothing states that they must be," Haromir admitted. "But the more valuable the prize, the more likely it is that both parties fight with the intention of slaying each other…."
"What purpose would that serve?" Telepe replied. "I concur with you, there's little point in putting your life on the line, particularly if the issue can be settled non-lethally."
"…And how can I be certain that the rebellion would refrain from attempting to take my life?" Haromir asked cautiously.
"How are such contests usually arbitrated?" Telepe asked.
Haromir exhaled, folding his arms over his chest. "If both parties agree to it, an impartial judge may be chosen to oversee the duel," he explained. "They decide when the fight begins, and they can put a stop to it at any time, which is why they must remain impartial."
"I see," Telepe said slowly. Then he looked up. "Then might I nominate myself for that role?"
Haromir narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You? You would support the rebellion."
"I support my kingdom," Telepe emphasized. "And regardless of who succeeds, my kingdom shall benefit. Thus, I have no reason to favor one side or the other." He struggled not to smirk as he added, "Unless you can recommend another candidate who could fill the role? An emissary from another nearby kingdom, perhaps?"
Haromir eyed Telepe skeptically, considering his words. Out of the corner of his eye, Telepe noticed Sariel and Inhaal watching the exchange with bemused interest, though both remained silent. Finally, Haromir exhaled and inclined his head. "Very well, then let's consider the terms of a prospective duel. Should I emerge victorious, what would I gain? Merely the prestige of defeating the rebellion's greatest warrior? That hardly seems a fair trade, especially since I presume that they wish to take my city if I'm defeated."
"It's not merely the prospect of defeating the Paravant's champion that should interest you," Telepe explained. "Should you force him to yield, he would become your prisoner. Consider what you could do with such a valuable prize. While I would not recommend attempting to control him by recruiting him into your forces – I assure you, he would not permit it – you could ransom him back to the Paravant for any price you care to name. I have no doubt that the Paravant would be willing to trade entire kingdoms for him. He's invaluable to the rebellion – indeed, I doubt they can win this war without him, and she's well aware of it. She would give anything for his safe return. Or, perhaps you might sell him to Umaril instead? That would certainly earn you the respect and loyalty of the other kingdoms, along with a tidy ransom as well." Telepe leaned in conspiratorially and added, "Umaril intentionally avoided Whitestrake when he came to treat with the Paravant in the Blackwood several weeks ago. He knows how crucial Whitestrake is to the rebellion. Were you to deliver him, the rewards you would reap would be… unimaginable."
Haromir hesitated at Telepe's words. "Umaril did not wish to challenge Whitestrake?" he asked cautiously.
"Not out of fear!" Telepe assured him quickly, before adding in a calmer voice. "Rather, he did not wish to antagonize the champion during a diplomatic negotiation. Whitestrake's volatility is well-known, and Umaril wished for his meeting with the Paravant to remain civil. Nevertheless, I am certain he would offer any reward you could name in exchange for Whitestrake."
Haromir began to pace back and forth, considering Telepe's words. He put one hand under his chin, staring down at the floor with a faint shake of his head. "I have heard terrifying tales of his prowess on the battlefield," he commented. "They say that his mere presence is enough to shift the tide of battle. That he has personally slain over a dozen warriors. That he even faced daedra and escaped with his life."
Telepe blinked, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. "The tales you have heard are greatly exaggerated," he replied smoothly.
"Is that so? Well… I confess, that's a great relief," Haromir sighed. Telepe smiled and nodded slowly. He didn't bother to clarify that the stories Haromir had heard were severely underestimating Pelinal's true strength. Haromir then snapped his head up again and added, "Even so, the Paravant would not have made him her champion if he was not a skilled warrior in his own right. I should be wary."
"Indeed, you should," Telepe agreed emphatically. "However, if he was weak, he also would not be worth challenging. The other kings would not be impressed if you were to defeat one of her common soldiers, after all."
"…A fair point," Haromir sighed. He then folded his arms over his chest. "As I stated, I presume that the rebellion would expect me to surrender Sancre Tor if I were defeated?"
"Well, yes," Telepe admitted. Then he smiled slyly. "However, you needn't relinquish… complete control."
Haromir tilted his head slightly. "Explain."
"While the rebellion's army is growing larger by the day, its lack of skilled administrators is one of its most glaring weaknesses. That is part of why the Paravant was so desperate for my aid, even though I'm a novice emissary with, at best, a tepid interest in her cause. And while she has gained a few advisors who have some experience as quartermasters and secretaries, none have the experience with trade and economics that you do. Overseeing the tabulation of grain or the inventory of a warehouse is not the same as creating trade routes and negotiating contracts with foreign kingdoms."
"You have that sort of experience," Haromir countered.
"I do not," Telepe asserted. "As I've stated, my expertise is in diplomacy, not trade, and even then, my own experience is limited. While I have approached kings with potential deals – as I did with you – the actual drafting of the contracts will be managed by my kingdom's trade advisors. You may note, when I first approached you, I simply presented you with a list of products that might intrigue you. I did not specify specifically which goods would be traded, nor in what amounts. In truth, I am out of my depth in that arena."
"Indeed?" Haromir asked slowly, his blue eyes flashing with interest. "So, if they have little experience managing trade…."
"Furthermore, while the rebellion does seek to garrison its warriors in Sancre Tor, none of her men has experience ruling a kingdom. They would greatly benefit from the aid of a skilled advisor," Telepe said slyly. "It would also be a waste to allow the trade routes that you have built to decay through incompetence and neglect, especially when everyone in Cyrod stands to benefit from them. Thus, it would be in the rebellion's best interest to allow the one who forged them to continue to oversee them."
"Yet you would still have me surrender my throne," Haromir growled.
"In name only. And perhaps only temporarily," Telepe suggested. "In truth, aside from semantics, your defeat in this duel would be more akin to asking you to agree to the terms of the alliance that I initially suggested. Unless you wish to accept them without us needing to resort to a duel at all?" he added with a cheeky grin.
Haromir scowled at him, but then reluctantly began to smile at the way Telepe continued to eye him. After a moment, he chuckled ruefully. "How is it that you're able to make even a potential defeat sound somewhat appealing? And… why are you so intent on finding a compromise?"
"Because I do not wish for this to end in bloodshed," Telepe replied honestly. "It's in both sides interests that no one lose their lives." He exhaled slowly, then added, "Feel free to think about my proposal, Your Majesty. This is merely a suggestion about how you could curry favor with the other Ayleid kingdoms, no matter the outcome. And as you stated, there's truly no need for you to agree to this duel at all. Should you choose to remain neutral, the rebellion will respect your decision. I do understand your reluctance to participate in this war. However, I feel that you have more to gain by accepting this challenge, regardless of victory or defeat. Emerge victorious, and you earn the respect of every Ayleid kingdom in Cyrod for defeating a dreaded champion who is already notorious among your people. Yet even in the event of your defeat, though you would nominally surrender your crown, you would still gain access to markets across Tamriel, so long as the rebellion controls the Nibenay – which I suspect they shall for a very long time. Their position is stronger than Umaril realizes. And I would do everything in my power to ensure you retain as much influence over the governance of Sancre Tor as possible, as the rebellion stands to benefit from your expertise."
"And what if I should lose the duel, submit to your terms, and the rebellion is still defeated?" Haromir pointed out with a deep frown.
Telepe shrugged, smirking cunningly. "In that case, you were little more than a hostage of the rebellion, weren't you? You had almost no control over your kingdom after you were defeated. It's not as though you were complicit in their crimes. In fact, you even stood up to their mightiest warrior, one who's already defeated other kings before, and you had the courage to do so alone! You were fortunate they decided you were more valuable as a prisoner, though you still had to endure the humiliation of being caged in your own kingdom, helpless to watch as those savages ruined all you had built. But at least you tried to resist them."
Haromir let out a short, reluctant bark of a laugh, shaking his head. "It almost sounds as though you're staging a play," he remarked.
"Hardly. I could not even if I wished to," Telepe stated bluntly. "Whitestrake will not permit anything less than a true battle." His good humor faded, a serious look settling over his face. "I must warn you. Should you accept this duel, though I shall insist that it be non-lethal, you must engage him as though your life is on the line. Even so, I'm certain that even he can be made to understand that you and the rebellion stand to gain from settling this with a non-lethal duel."
Haromir tilted his head. "I truly do not understand what you hope to gain from aiding both sides," he said slowly.
"As I've said several times, my allegiance is to my king. Regardless of the victor of this war, I wish to see my kingdom benefit," Telepe replied. Then his expression softened, and he added, "And I also wish to ensure that those that I'm personally fond of are included in favorable arrangements. Particularly if those outcomes can be achieved without needless deaths."
"Admirable of you," Haromir remarked absently, his expression turning distant. He remained silent for several long seconds as he stared at a nearby wall while Telepe's heart hammered. Then he finally turned back around, pinning him with his cool blue gaze. "Even so, I cannot issue a challenge to the rebellion. I have no reason to declare war upon them, and no desire to make an enemy of the Paravant."
Telepe's heartbeat slowed as a cold dread began to settle over him. He looked down, crestfallen, as he murmured. "I… see. Very well. I shall-"
"However," Haromir interjected. "Should the rebellion issue a challenge to me, I would be honor-bound to answer it. I shall not allow those bloodthirsty savages to threaten my domain." As Telepe slowly looked up again, a faint smile spread across the king's face.
Telepe grinned broadly and folded his hands behind his back, inclining his head. "Very well," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm. "In that case, I shall inform the rebellion that they are unwelcome in Sancre Tor, and that any siege of your fortress would only amount to failure. Therefore, if they wish to seize it from you, they shall have no other recourse than to issue a proper challenge for your crown." He paused, then added, "No doubt when word gets out, the other kingdoms shall find your courage and willingness to defend your lands most admirable."
"Naturally," Haromir replied. He then looked away again, shaking his head. "I still cannot fathom how I permitred you to persuade me like this."
"It's simple trade, Your Majesty. We both seek to better our positions, and if we can mutually benefit, why not seek a compromise?" Telepe replied airily.
"A compromise, is it?" Haromir repeated softly, glancing away with a mysterious look on his face. "Yes… no reason why we shouldn't benefit from this arrangement…."
Telepe's smile faltered, and he felt a chill run up his spine at Haromir's tone. "Y-yes," he stammered, unsure what to make of the look in Haromir's glowing blue eyes. He cleared his throat, then held his hand out. "I shall return to the rebellion immediately to deliver your message. And… regardless of how this ends, I was pleased to see you again, King Haromir."
"You as well, Atkynd," Haromir said, the cold look vanishing from his eyes, replaced by a warm, genuine smile. The king clasped his forearm, and Telepe did the same as they nodded at each other. "I do hope that when we speak again, we shall do so under equally friendly circumstances."
"Divines willing," Telepe nodded, releasing his arm and tugging his cloak around his body. "Until then!"
"I see," Edanu said slowly, running his fingers over his beard as he gazed down at Sancre Tor in the distance as Telepe finished relating the events of their meeting. "Then all we must do is issue a challenge?"
"With the terms that I suggested, yes," Telepe nodded. "I doubt that he shall accept any other conditions, though if you have recommendations-"
"This is a farce," Pelinal snapped. Telepe and Edanu both turned to stare at the knight as he began pacing back and forth like a restless wildcat.
"It is the simplest method of gaining control of Sancre Tor," Telepe stated. "We cannot waste men in a fruitless siege, and Haromir will not accept an alliance." He tilted his head and added, "I had thought you would be pleased that you can now take the city by force, just as you wanted."
"I would be pleased to take Sancre Tor by force, were this a true duel," Pelinal snapped. "This is not a duel! This is a performance, a mockery, for the sake of catering to a cowering merchant! It is beneath me!"
Edanu gave Telepe a sidelong look. "He does make a valid point," the centurion admitted.
Telepe sighed again, folding his hands behind his back and lowering his head to stare at the rocky ground. "Yes… you're correct, Pelinal," Telepe conceded. Pelinal paused mid-stride, regarding him with a suspicious scowl. "This is not a duel worthy of your talents, and for that, I apologize. I confess that I was forced to resort to arranging a duel between you and King Haromir because of my own failure to sway him to our cause." He exhaled slowly, then added, "Nevertheless, I also truly do not wish to expend lives if it is unnecessary. Our only other options are to attempt to storm the city – which will undoubtedly cost many of our men their lives and will likely end in our defeat – or to return to the Paravant and inform her of our failure, which is unacceptable to both you and her." He folded his hands behind his back, adding, "I did state that should I fail to persuade King Haromir, I would defer to you. Do you believe that we should attempt to take Sancre Tor in battle?"
Pelinal hissed and turned towards the city, appraising it with his arms folded over his chest. After staring at it for several long moments, he muttered, "It is likely that I could assault the city alone and slaughter its defenders. However… doing so would render it uninhabitable." Telepe stared blankly at Pelinal's assertion, though he wisely chose not to question it. The knight growled as he turned back around, adding reluctantly, "The Paravant did state that she wished for us to occupy it, not to raze it to the ground."
"Very well," Telepe said, folding his hands in front of himself. "Are there any other options for taking the city? I did not see any hidden entrances, though if you would like for me to return to the city and scout its defenses once more-"
"No," Pelinal snapped. "While you were treating with the Ayleid, I observed the Nords defending the city. They appear to be able warriors, and while we may emerge victorious in a battle against them, we would suffer many casualties, no matter the method we used."
"Then, if I may, what would you suggest as an alternative?" Telepe asked, keeping his tone as respectful and deferential as possible. When Pelinal hesitated, he suggested slowly, "If you truly do not wish to duel, I could arrange for him to face another warrior-"
"I am the Paravant's champion!" Pelinal barked, swinging to face Telepe, his bright blue eyes flashing dangerously. Telepe flinched away from him and held up a soothing hand as the knight advanced on him. "You shall not dishonor me further by suggesting that another fight in the Paravnt's name!"
"My apologies!" Telepe exclaimed, continuing to backpedal away from the furious knight, his heart pounding with fear. Pelinal stopped a few inches from him, and there was a long pause. Telepe didn't dare look away from the knight, and after several tense moments, he hesitantly asked, "Then…?"
"…Issue the challenge," Pelinal snarled, pushing his way past Telepe. "If we must carry out this farce, then let us play our parts properly."
"Very well," Telepe nodded quickly. "I have little doubt we shall receive an answer by tomorrow morning."
"Hm. If you require me, then, I shall be in my tent," Pelinal snapped. He paused, then glanced over his shoulder, adding as a warning, "Do not require my presence until you receive a reply, elf."
Telepe nodded, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. The knight turned back around and stalked away across the stony ground. The other warriors quickly stepped out of his way as he stormed past them on his way to return to his tent. Edanu shot Telepe a sidelong look and shook his head.
"I shall leave the composition of this challenge to you, then," Edanu said. "Do you require anything?"
"Y-yes… Papyrus and ink," Telepe replied slowly.
Edanu nodded and motioned for one of his warriors to fetch the supplies. He then turned back around to face Telepe, adding in a low voice, "I do hope that your assumptions about King Haromir's disposition towards this duel are correct. If they are not…."
"I'm aware," Telepe said shortly. The last thing he wanted to consider was Pelinal's reaction if their request for a duel was denied. Haromir's reply couldn't arrive soon enough.
Later that night, Telepe sat perched on a flat boulder near the top of the hill where they were camped. The brisk wind was turning his ears bright red as it whispered past him, but he was hardly aware of it. He was staring silently down at Sancre Tor's distant, glowing lights, idly turning over a fresh scroll in his hands.
He heard footsteps approaching him from behind, but he didn't bother to turn around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dynar come to a stop on his right, wearing a thick, dark brown, fur robe, with the hood pulled over his shaved head.
"This is rare," Dynar remarked, folding his arms over his chest, his breath misting in the air as he spoke. "It's not often that you have trouble sleeping."
"It's difficult to do so when you can't stop fretting," Telepe replied absently, continuing to run his fingers absently over the edges of the scroll.
"I presume that you hold King Haromir's reply," Dynar said, glancing down at the papyrus in his hands. "Did he refuse?"
"He did not," Telepe replied softly. "He's agreed to duel Whitestrake tomorrow morning. His terms are as we agreed upon – if he emerges victorious, he gains Whitestrake as a hostage, whereas if Whitestrake defeats him, we gain control of Sancre Tor."
"Indeed? That's excellent," Dynar nodded, his gaze still lingering on the scroll. "In that case, what's the cause of your concern? Do you believe that Whitestrake cannot defeat the king?" he added, before letting out a short chuckle at the absurdity of his question.
Telepe also scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Come now. When I proposed this duel, I did so with no doubt in my mind that Whitestrake would emerge victorious. King Haromir has no more chance of defeating him than I do of stopping the flow of a river with my bare hands."
"Well… I'm pleased that you have confidence in our champion, then," Dynar remarked drily. "Then what's the cause of your concern?"
"It's… simply a sense of foreboding," Telepe answered vaguely. When Dynar tilted his head at him, he shook his head. "My apologies, it's difficult for me to explain properly. I suppose it's a sense of anxiety that I simply cannot explain."
"I see," Dynar said slowly.
"In any case, you needn't worry about me," Telepe assured him. "I intend to sleep soon. I simply wanted to try and collect my thoughts." He paused, then looked over his shoulder. "For that matter, why are you awake?"
"Much like you, I found myself unable to sleep," Dynar replied. "There's a particular thought that's been troubling me."
"Which is?" Telepe asked.
Dynar turned his gaze to Sancre Tor once more. "Tell me, Telepe… what terms did you offer the king? I suspect that they were… particularly generous."
Telepe frowned at Dynar's accusing tone. "What do you mean?"
"King Haromir is notorious for his caution and his reluctance to fight," Dynar explained coolly, clenching his arms tightly as a cold wind washed over him. "He has fastidiously remained neutral in every conflict, even local ones, typically claiming that there is no profit to be made from pointless conflicts where one wastes resources. No one has yet had the desire to waste the resources necessary to assault his kingdom, and he seems certain that he could weather any siege. He is quite secure in his position, and until now has expressed no desire to pursue more power.
"As for the terms of this duel… I find it questionable that he would agree to them when he seems to have so much to lose, and so little to gain. Sancre Tor is, as I said, quite secure, and he has little reason to risk ceding control of it. On the other hand, if he wins, he claims Whitestrake as a hostage? Is that all? Certainly, he is essential to the rebellion's war effort, but I doubt that the other kings would consider his value equal to an entire kingdom. Especially if you did not relate the full extent of his fighting prowess, which I suspect you did not, or Haromir would have been even less likely to accept this challenge. He would be a fool to face someone who can single-handedly decide entire battles." Dynar narrowed his eyes accusingly. "So. How, then, did you convince him to accept this duel? What promises and concessions were you forced to make?"
Telepe managed to keep his expression neutral as he shifted on the rock, leaning forward, and folding his hands in front of him. "Well… for one, you're correct that I didn't relay how terrifying a fighter Whitestrake truly is," he admitted. "However, I did convince him that Whitestrake does have value to Umaril, and that defeating him and turning him over as a hostage would secure him a reward equal to, if not greater than, a kingdom. He would not simply gain wealth, but prestige among his fellow Ayleids, which Haromir yearns for far more than any material prize. I also assured him that the duel would not be fought to the death," he added.
"Wise of you to clarify that for him," Dynar chuckled faintly. "Nevertheless, I suspect that you still had to convince Haromir that he had little to lose if he was defeated in the duel," he added, giving Telepe a sidelong glance. "Am I correct?"
Telepe felt heat creeping into his ears at the prince's insinuation. He found that he was unable to meet Dynar's piercing blue gaze as he murmured, "I… also suggested that if he were defeated, he might still retain some measure of influence in Sancre Tor. Perhaps overseeing the flow of trade through his city, or advising the new ruler-"
"How clever of you," Dynar remarked bitingly, narrowing his eyes. "Because he surely won't use that influence to undermine us and pursue his own goals."
"I don't suspect that he would," Telepe said quickly.
"Indeed? You don't believe a defeated king who had his realm and title stripped away would seek to reclaim it?" Dynar countered sharply. "At the very least, I doubt he would be particularly loyal. He's made his position quite clear. After all, why are we not toasting our new alliance over a warm meal, instead of freezing outside of Sancre Tor's walls, preparing for a duel?" The prince sighed, then added, "I presume that he refused your offer once you mentioned that he would be required to abolish slavery?"
Telepe's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "How did you-?"
"Arrive at that conclusion?" Dynar finished. "Because it's the one policy that the Paravant requires her allies to adhere to, and it's a policy that would be particularly difficult for a merchant king to accept. Even those kingdoms that have willingly allied with her are not pleased about it. Our economy depends upon slave labor. My father fears that Nenalata shall also face a difficult transition to an economy where all the citizens in the city are free. A merchant who rose to power largely because of the slave economy would be loath to support its abolition." Dynar tilted his head, then added, "Therefore, I must ask – why did you believe that he would not work against us, if he was permitted to retain his power?"
"I… we would not allow him to work without oversight, obviously," Telepe stammered. "But his skills as a merchant would be invaluable to the rebellion, as we lack someone with that sort of financial acumen. It would be a great boon."
"Indeed? Yet, if the rebellion does not have a merchant of equal skill to Haromir, how could we determine whether he is indeed working for our benefit?" Dynar pointed out. "Certainly, you have a bit of mercantile training, as do a few of the Paravant's advisors. Yet, if his prowess far exceeds our own, how would we recognize if he was manipulating the kingdom's trade for his own ends?"
Telepe winced. "I do know that some of the advisors are likely skilled enough to at least notice if something were amiss," he said weakly.
"But likely not enough to counter it, even if they did discover something," Dynar sighed. Then he shook his head. "But… very well, let us instead consider what would happen if all went as you claimed. Despite being defeated, Haromir holds true to his word and agrees to aid us. Would that establish a precedent, then? If we encounter a foe, no matter how vile, no matter how heinous their past deeds, and no matter how little they hold to the rebellion's ideals, should we still consider recruiting them? If we were to encounter a sorcerer-king who flays his slaves alive, bathes in their blood, and brazenly announces his intent to forever hold his slaves in bondage, should we nevertheless attempt to convince him join the rebellion, solely due to his skill with magic?"
Telepe narrowed his eyes, anger causing his pale cheeks to flush. "You're exaggerating," he snapped.
"I am," Dynar agreed calmly. "Nevertheless, you presume that the Paravant would permit this king, who refuses to renounce slavery, to retain his power solely because he has financial acumen. Hyperbole aside, how is that any different from my example? You would make generous concessions to a defeated foe who is ambivalent towards our cause at best. That is poor diplomacy… and I believe that you are aware of this," he added, tilting his head back slightly. His voice softened. "What is the true reason behind your attempts to accommodate Haromir, Telepe? Is it simply because you are personally fond of him?"
Telepe hesitated, but when Dynar continued to pin him under his eerie blue gaze, he exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I cannot deny that I am," he admitted softly. "Haromir was the first Ayleid ruler to take an interest in me and my mission when I first arrived in Cyrod. He was friendly and accommodating, and he seemed genuinely interested in my offer. What's more… he didn't look upon me with disdain, the way nearly every other Ayleid did. He spoke to me as a person, not as a half-breed mongrel." Telepe ran his hand over his jawline, then looked up and added, "Perhaps part of me hoped that his ability to see beyond race would make him a good ally for the rebellion, which is why I've been trying so ardently to bring him into our fold."
Dynar gazed at Telepe for a moment longer, then nodded his head sympathetically. "Well… I can't say that I don't understand how difficult it is, being ostracized by the other rulers in Cyrod," he commiserated. "It is heartening whenever one finds an ally in this land, given how rare that is. It must be even worse for you, since your human blood puts you at even more of a disadvantage in even casual interactions with my kind, even if you aren't subjected to outright hostility or violence. Nevertheless, I believe that there is another reason behind Haromir's racial tolerance, which you should consider."
"Which is?" Telepe prompted him.
"Rather than viewing others based upon their race, as most do, I believe Haromir instead evaluates men and mer based upon what they can offer him, and how he can profit from a relationship with them," Dynar explained. "Thus, when you approached him with an offer from a kingdom that has access to both goods he covets and a viable trade route, he saw you as an asset, and as such has treated you with respect – as one should when dealing with a potential trading partner," he added pointedly. "It may be that he does personally like you – and I have little reason to doubt that he does not – but his positive interactions with you seem to be based entirely upon what he can gain from you. He has little interest in altruistic motives, such as the liberation of humans in Cyrod, if they do not appear to benefit him in a way that would offset what he would be forced to sacrifice in return. Therefore, if we do leave him in power, I suspect that we can continue to expect him to act in a way that benefits him, rather than working to further the aims of the rebellion."
Telepe grimaced at Dynar's frank assessment, but as he lowered his gaze, he realized that the prince was likely correct. "That… does make sense, yes," he conceded quietly.
Dynar noticed his downcast expression, and he uncrossed his arms, instead hooking his thumbs into the belt of his chiton. "I am not telling you this because I wish to dishearten you," he said in a softer tone. "Your attempts to sway him in spite of his potential liability to our cause are understandable. It is very difficult to divorce oneself entirely from personal attachment, no matter how skilled on is at diplomacy. I am telling you my thoughts, however, because I do have a vested interest in seeing this rebellion succeed." He smiled faintly and added, "Moreover, I also consider you a friend, Telepe, and as your friend, I feel it is my duty to call your attention to when you have acted in error."
"No… I understand that," Telepe assured him, shaking his head before looking up. "And I thank you for your counsel. In truth, nothing that you've said sounds incorrect to me. Now that you mention it, I must concur that he would likely make a poor ally, especially if the other Ayleids' antipathy towards him were to also turn other kingdoms against us." He let out a long, slow sigh, muttering to himself, "I've been a fool."
"You're mortal," Dynar shrugged. "You make mistakes. As do I. Still, it's too late to renege on the terms you set for this duel. If word gets out that we do not honor our oaths, it shall do even more harm to our cause. We can only see how this plays out. And it may well be that all shall proceed as you've predicted. It is very likely that Whitestrake shall easily defeat him, and upon his defeat, he may indeed use his mercantile genius to our advantage."
"Perhaps. But it would also be wise to keep a very close eye on his dealings," Telepe admitted.
Dynar grinned, squeezing his shoulder. "It would," he agreed. The elf then held his hand out, which Telepe took, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "Come. It's late, it's freezing, and you need your rest. It wouldn't do for the arbiter of this duel to have his judgment impaired from lack of sleep. Or, Meridia forbid, an illness."
"No, it wouldn't. And I've made enough mistakes for one day," Telepe agreed, grinning sheepishly as Dynar's laughter rang off the sheer face of the mountains beside them.
Telepe awoke bleary-eyed and groggy the next morning, but between the bitter cold and the heavy tension hanging in the air, he was soon wide-awake. As he wandered through the camp to fetch his breakfast, he could feel some of the men watching him suspiciously. No doubt, news of his role as judge of the upcoming duel had leaked out, and while he knew that most of the warriors trusted him, there were a few that seemed to expect him to favor Haromir for some reason.
For his part, Telepe simply ignored the wary looks he was receiving and instead tried to enjoy the warmth of his porridge and tea in peace. He had no reason to rule against Pelinal, after all – if anything, he would struggle not to favor the knight too heavily – and he had no doubt that Whitestrake would prevail, regardless of who was the arbiter. Why the men assumed he would try to sabotage the duel, he couldn't understand. Though of course, there was one obvious reason, he thought bitterly as he ran his hand over one of his pointed ears.
Once everyone had eaten, the wagons began creaking down the steep mountain path towards Sancre Tor. It was a short journey, and the men remained silent as they marched behind Pelinal, who haughtily rode his horse well ahead of the small procession. It was almost ceremonial, in a way, with Pelinal clearly relishing his role as the champion of the rebellion. Telepe might have been amused had the air around him not been so grim.
When they arrived outside the gates of Sancre Tor, they saw that the city guard had been arrayed on and outside the walls. Most of the Nords were atop the walls, leaning casually against the battlements and chatting nonchalantly, as though they were awaiting the start of a friendly wrestling match. By contrast, three hundred grim-faced Ayleid warriors were arrayed in neat blocks in front of the gates of Sancre Tor, clad in bronze armor and wielding gleaming bronze-tipped spears. In front of all of them, clad in his shimmering suit of armor, stood Haromir.
Pelinal stopped his horse about a hundred yards away from the city gates and dismounted, then turned to Telepe and jerked his head, silently demanding that he follow. Telepe immediately climbed off of Emero and hurried to walk beside Pelinal, while across the plain, Haromir began striding quickly towards them across the barren, rocky ground.
As they approached, Telepe took the opportunity to appraise Haromir's armor once more. While the ornate designs were clearly only ceremonial, he did cut a striking, even intimidating figure. The feathery etchings in his cuirass made Haromir seem like a monstrous bird of prey, with his flared pauldrons and high, beaked helm making him appear even bigger than he truly was. A heavy mace hung at his side, with each flange ornately designed to resemble a folded wing, and a thick bronze shield designed to look like a pair of wings was strapped to his arm. His armor radiated magicka, gleaming with a faint magenta aura in the early morning sun. Most surprising of all, Haormir advanced with a look of serene confidence, which surprised Telepe, as he had expected the king to approach Pelinal cautiously. Telepe privately admitted that if he was facing Haromir, he would have found it difficult not to hesitate and perhaps reconsider the duel. It was fortunate, then, that Pelinal was the king's opponent, he thought drily.
The two combatants climbed a small hillock several paces from the front gates of the city and came to a halt, glaring at each other silently through their helmets. Telepe sidled around to stand halfway between the pair as they stood motionless about ten yards apart from each other. He glanced between them, then cleared his throat and raised his voice, shouting so that the observers could hear him.
"We have gathered this morning to witness this duel between King Haromir of Sancre Tor and Pelinal Whitestrake, Champion of the Paravant," Telepe announced, his voice echoing off the walls of Sancre Tor. "Should King Haromir emerge victorious, Pelinal Whitestrake shall be made his hostage, to do with as he pleases. Should Pelinal Whitestrake emerge victorious, King Haromir shall garrison the Paravant's troops, and Sancre Tor shall align itself with the rebellion! Do either of you object to these terms?"
"No," Haromir and Pelinal both yelled, neither breaking eye contact with the other. Telepe almost let out a sigh of relief. He had feared that at the last moment Haromir might try to renegotiate the terms of the duel. He was surprised by how committed Haromir seemed to be to following through with this duel. Perhaps Telepe's arguments had been more convincing than he had realized… or perhaps Haromir truly believed he could win.
"I have been asked to serve as judge of this duel," Telepe continued. "Do either of you object to this appointment?"
"No," the pair chorused again.
"Very well. My arbitration shall be respected by both of you," he said, glancing between the pair warily. "This duel shall begin and end when I command it. If your opponent yields, you are to stop and accept his surrender immediately. Is that understood?"
"Yes," came the answer from both men.
"Those of you who bear witness to this duel, do you agree to uphold these terms? Do you swear in the sight of the gods that you shall abide by its outcome, favorable or no?" he asked, turning to Sancre Tor, and then looking over his shoulder at the arrayed rebel soldiers.
"We swear!" roared hundreds of voices from all around him.
Telepe felt his heart racing as he took a last look between Haromir and Pelinal, and then he inhaled slowly to steady his nerves, so that his voice wouldn't shake. "Then may the gods look favorably upon you both!" Telepe shouted. He paused for one more second, then yelled. "Begin!"
The two duelists immediately drew their weapons, Haromir yanked his mace off of his belt, while Pelinal left his shield slung over his back, instead opting to wield his sword in his left hand and his own mace in his right. The Ayleid king raised his shield high, protecting his torso as he tentatively closed the distance between them, while Pelinal kept his weapons low and to his side, as if he was inviting Haromir to attack him. Telepe noticed that Haromir seemed both confused by and wary of Pelinal's open stance, which only made him tighten his guard even further.
The pair circled each other slowly for several steps as the onlookers waited impatiently for someone to throw the first strike. It was Pelinal who finally grew tired of waiting, and with a furious roar, he swung his sword around in a short arc. The blade struck the rim of Haromir's shield, and though the force of the blow did make the Ayleid's arm shudder, his guard held. To Telepe's shock, Pelinal's hand snapped back after his initial strike, and a gout of flame briefly erupted over his arm before it was extinguished in the frigid wind. Pelinal glanced down at his left hand and slowly rotated his wrist before looking up again with a snarl.
"Your smith placed some nasty sorcery on that shield of yours, elf," he remarked coldly. "Let's see if the rest of your armor is as well-enchanted."
Pelinal suddenly swept forward, lashing out three times with his blade. The first blow Haromir also managed to catch on his shield, but with the second, Pelinal twisted his wrist and slipped under Haromir's guard, striking the elf's chest instead. The tip of the blade scratched the surface of Haromir's armor, but then Pelinal's hand was stopped by a flash of violet light, and he was forced to pull back again. His third swipe was directed at Haromir's leg, but the blow missed entirely as Haromir danced backwards, narrowly avoiding the attack.
"Their king is surprisingly doing well," Telepe heard one of the warriors remark from behind him. "I've seen scores of warriors fall from just one of Whitestrake's blows."
Telepe shook his head to himself, though he didn't tear his eyes away from the fight. While it was true that Haromir had managed to stop a few of Pelinal's strikes, he had his armor's enchantments to thank for not being immediately slaughtered. What's more, Telepe had seen Pelinal fight enough times to know that the knight was still only feeling out his opponent. Thus far, he had only used his sword, and even then, he had only thrown testing jabs at Haromir. If anything, Pelinal was toying with him.
"Come now, king, you cannot win if you don't strike back!" Pelinal taunted Haromir, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "I had thought that I was providing you with enough of an advantage by refraining from using my shield! Need I provide you an even greater handicap?!"
To the collective surprise of everyone watching, Pelinal suddenly sheathed his sword and pulled his helmet off, squinting in the biting wind as it whipped his loose, white hair around his head like a tangle of cobwebs. He tossed his helmet aside, then drew his sword again and held both hands out, daring Haromir to attack him.
Haromir's bright blue eyes flared with anger at Pelinal's mocking, but he still remained cautious. He took one or two steps forward, testing whether he could step within Whitestrake's range. Pelinal's longsword gave him a reach advantage that he could use to easily keep Haromir at bay if he chose to remain on the defensive. However, Pelinal gave no indication of moving, and after some momentary hesitation, Haromir took another two steps forward, placing himself close enough to swing his own weapon. Pelinal smirked and tilted his head upwards and to the side slightly, exposing his jaw, as though daring Haromir to strike it. After one more moment's hesitation, Haromir let out a short, furious cry and swung his mace around in a short, clean arc.
At the last moment, Pelinal leaned back just slightly, and Haromir's blow narrowly avoided colliding with the side of his face. However, its flange did connect with Pelinal's silver cuirass. A flash of white light made Telepe squint, and a thunderclap echoed off the mountains as the smell of ozone filled the air. Pelinal stood unfazed as the cudgel slammed into his chest, and Haromir's arm was thrown backwards. He then gaped in shock and horror as he saw that Pelinal's armor was completely unscathed. The white-haired warrior sneered at the Ayleid king, shaking his head.
"Again, my compliments to your armorer," Pelinal remarked in a low voice, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "However, if that is the strongest spell your arms possess, you have no chance of victory."
Haromir didn't bother to reply, instead opting to swing his mace again, this time aiming for Pelinal's face. Pelinal swiftly brought his sword up, catching Haromir under his arm and knocking his mace harmlessly upwards, the attack missing Pelinal completely. Haromir hissed and took a step back as Pelinal swung his own mace around, slamming it into Haromir's shield. Once more, the attack was deflected by the powerful enchantment on the shield, but this time Telepe saw Haromir stagger backwards from the force of the blow. Pelinal stalked after him, swinging his mace again, and though Haromir was able to angle his shield to deflect the blow to the side, he was once again sent stumbling, with Pelinal continuing to pursue him, undeterred by the scorch marks from his own weapons blackening his armor.
Haromir shot a glance at Telepe, his eyes wide with fright. Telepe raised an eyebrow, holding a hand out to his side and tilting his head, silently asking if he wished to concede. Haromir hesitated, and then a look of resolve settled over his face. He turned back to Pelinal and raised his shield again while resting his mace on his shoulder, preparing to lash out when the knight drew near. Pelinal, seeing this, paused for a moment, then let out a low chuckle.
"Come then, merchant," Pelinal taunted.
Haromir exhaled, then advanced at a slow, plodding pace. He kept his shield raised while Pelinal watched him intently, holding his sword before him in a low guard while raising his mace over his shoulder. When he drew near enough, Haromir suddenly charged in with a short yell, batting aside Pelinal's blade with the rim of his shield. He then darted inside of Pelinal's range and brought his mace up to block Pelinal's downward strike. At the same time, he rammed his shield into Pelinal's chest, hoping to send him staggering backwards.
Pelinal took a step back from the force of the blow, but immediately regained his balance. Before Haromir could attack again, the knight's heavy mace suddenly whistled through the air and slammed into Haromir's armored shoulder. The shielding enchantment on the armor flared briefly, but then Pelinal's mace dented the bronze plate, driving it into Haromir's shoulder. The king screamed in pain and staggered backwards, his shield hanging off of his limp left arm. Pelinal sneered and brought his mace over his head, swinging it around into his right shoulder next and crushing Haromir's armor once again. The elf's mace fell from his hand and clattered across the rocky ground as he stumbled away and fell onto his back, sprawled out at the top of the hillock.
As Pelinal loomed over him, Haromir's eyes widened with fright. He quickly snapped his head over to Telepe and called out, "I y-!"
Before he could finish, and before Telepe could move to stop the fight, Pelinal suddenly dove on top of Haromir. Without warning, he closed his mouth over Haromir's throat, biting down with a sickening crack. Telepe's mouth fell open in horror as blood flooded out of the open wound, staining the ground below dark red. Haromir let out a strangled cry of pain and terror, clawing at Pelinal as the knight kept him pinned, shaking his head like a wolf. The elf's bright blue eyes fell on Telepe, whose blood froze as Haromir pinned him with a look of accusation and betrayal. Moments later, his body spasmed, then limply sprawled, lifeless, across the cold ground.
Pelinal raised his head, blood dripping from his chin, and then his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head. He craned his neck back and shouted to the heavens, "REMAN! REEEMAAAAN! Blessed son of Cyrodiil! Weep not that your cold mother has no milk to give! Suckle upon this and grow mighty! Mighty enough to drive out the cursed snakes of the east! Mighty enough to heal the shattered heart of Tamriel! Yes! Blood is my gift to you, for your blood is your greatest gift! Sanguine shall shade your life! Ruby shall be your banner, and ruby shall be your throne! Go forth, Reman! Unite the sundered races of man and become the champion of the arena that is Tamriel!"
A long, awkward silence settled over the area as the echoes of Pelinal's screaming slowly died out. He lowered his head and blinked a few times, his eyes once again focusing. As he did, Telepe could hear voices behind him whispering in confusion.
"Reman? Who is Reman?"
"Cyrodiil? What? Does he mean Cyrod?"
"Celediil is a city not far from here. Perhaps that's what he was referring to?"
Pelinal, meanwhile, ignored the voices as he slowly climbed to his feet. He shot a disdainful look at the bloody corpse of the king at his feet, and then the turned to the gates of Sancre Tor and pointed his blade at them.
"Haromir of Copper and Tea lies dead!" he bellowed. "By the terms of this duel, Sancre Tor belongs to the Paravant! Open your gates and receive us!"
The Nords on the walls traded looks with each other, and then a two scurried off the walls, hurrying to open the gates. By this point, Telepe had recovered his wits, and a seething anger was starting to boil inside of him. He stalked towards Pelinal, who turned to him with a look of bemusement.
"What do you want, elf?" he snapped shortly.
"Why in Oblivion did you slay him?!" Telepe hissed, keeping his voice at a whisper.
"The terms you set forth stated that I would not slay him if he yielded," Pelinal retorted blithely, a vicious smirk crossing his lips. "I did not hear him yield. Did you?"
"Did you expect him to yield while you were tearing into his throat like a starving dog?!" Telepe demanded furiously. "He would have been more valuable to us alive!"
"We have control of the city, and we need no longer suffer his presence," Pelinal snapped shortly. "It does not do to leave a king alive when you have taken his city, after all."
"By the Divines, Whitestrake, we had a plan!" Telepe snarled. "When I ask you to-!"
Before he could finish his sentence, Pelinal reached out and grabbed Telepe by the neck. Telepe choked, his eyes widening and his words dying in his throat. The knight dragged him closer and growled in a low voice, "I have been quite civil to you of late, elf, yet it seems my lenience has caused you to forget a simple fact. Allow me to remind you: I obey the Paravant. Not you. I have only refrained from slaying you at her command. She keeps you in her service thanks to that clever tongue of yours, yet if you cannot learn when to hold it, I shall cut it out." A malicious sneer crossed his face, and he added, "Perhaps then she'll have no further use for you, and I'll be permitted to rid myself of you as well."
Pelinal roughly shoved him away, releasing his throat. Telepe staggered backwards and fell onto his backside on the ground, coughing and rubbing his neck as he stared up at Pelinal, simultaneously furious and terrified. The knight sneered down at him as Huna rushed up him, putting his hands on his blood-stained tabard.
"Well fought!" he exclaimed. "But by the gods, what a mess. Come, let's get you cleaned."
"Indeed. I hear this city has excellent baths, and I'm eager to enjoy my prize," Pelinal agreed, wrapping his arm around Huna's waist as he turned away.
"By the by, my dear… who is Reman?" Huna asked softly.
Pelinal paused mid-stride and looked up at the sky. "No one of import… yet," he replied mysteriously. "And no one you need concern yourself with." He grinned wofishly and added, "You need only concern yourself with how swiftly we can find the baths."
The pair laughed lustily as they hurried towards the city. Telepe watched them warily as he slowly climbed to his feet, his legs shaking. Tari, Pasare, and Dynar approached him, the former reaching up to gently put her fingers on his throat.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly, gingerly inspecting the marks on his skin. "That's likely to bruise…."
"I'll be alright," Telepe assured her hoarsely, clearing his throat. He slowly looked down at the staring, lifeless body of Haromir once more, and a shudder ran down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the members of the camp wandering by, and he reached out to her to get her attention.
"Pardon me," he said softly. "Could you run to the palace and inform a Nord by the name of Inhaal that I'd like to speak with him? I wish to have a word about arranging a proper burial for him." He nodded down at Haromir's corpse. The woman blinked down at the former king, then looked back up at him with a confused frown.
"Why?" she asked bluntly.
"Even if he was our enemy, he's the mer who built this city. Sancre Tor's first king should be laid to rest in its catacombs. He's earned that much," Telepe explained.
The woman continued to stare at him, bewildered, but when Telepe narrowed his eyes, she shrugged and turned to carry out his request, muttering under her breath, "Elves…."
"Are you certain you're alright?" Dynar asked in a low voice, glancing pointedly down at Haromir's body.
Telepe took a long, slow breath, another shudder running through his body that he knew had little to do with the frigid air. "You were right about creating a plan that's too complex," he muttered in reply. "It makes it that much more likely to fail."
"Indeed," Dynar agreed grimly. "Yet I'd say that as failed plans go, this ended better than most."
"Perhaps," Telepe murmured quietly. The savage way Pelinal had killed Haromir was certain to tarnish the rebellion's image even further. Would this victory cost them even more potential allies?
Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and straightened his back. "No point in dwelling on it. For now, let's head into the city," he announced, shooting his companions a pointed look. "We have work to do."