Reviews:

RonaldM40196867: What do I like most about Zodd? His sense of honor I suppose. And his rivalry with Guts. Why did I include the witch doctor? Because I wanted a way for the poison to be dealt with or at the very least be brought to a consistent state so it wouldn't become a huge hindrance on the story. That was pretty much his sole purpose. A narrative tool.

Yeah, I'd be cool with Berserk having more videogames, sure. As long as it was made by a company that didn't want to insert their own politics or messaging, it wasn't some microtransaction filled cesspool that is mobile gaming, or anything else like that. If it was made by a company that actually liked the source material and genuinely wanted to do it justice, rather than making it as some kind of greedy cash grab.

Guest: The Elves are completely separate from the Eldar. And as far as I'm aware, no one in Warhammer 40k calls the Eldar Elves. Aeldari, sure, but not elves. Then again, it's the warp we're talking about. The Elves could have been influenced in some way by the Eldar's influence over the Warp, before their fall. Or something like that.

Griffith smiled at the diplomat from Tudor. He was a large portly man with shoulder length brown hair and a neatly trimmed handlebar mustache and a chin puff beard that didn't at all suit him.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Benedict." Princess Charlotte greeted him politely.

"Indeed, your arrival is most fortuitous." Griffith nodded in agreement.

"No, no, the pleasure is all mine. To meet the beautiful Princess Charlotte and the infamous White Phoenix General, I am truly blessed." The diplomat said politely. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances. I've heard what the King has done, your highness. It's just dreadful. Truly dreadful. You have my deepest condolences. And you, Lord Griffith, have my utmost respect for risking everything you've worked for to save her highness from such a terrible fate."

Charlotte looked down. "Thank you…" She muttered.

Lord Benedict sighed and tugged at his beard. "Ah, I see I've caused discomfort… I must apologize. Such was never my intention… Shall we get to business then? I'm sure you must realize why I'm here."

"To negotiate supplying our side of this civil war with food and weapons, I presume?" Griffith asked.

He nodded. "That's part of it, certainly. Though, I'm hoping to, shall we say, establish long term peace between Tudor and Midland once this civil war has concluded."

Griffith had to restrain himself from glaring at the diplomat. He forced himself to maintain a friendly expression. He knew exactly what the man was implying, and he wasn't going to allow it. The Princess was his.

He wished Guts were here. He would have found comfort knowing his brother was there to support him. But Guts left to find a dream. Which meant Griffith had to fulfill his own by any means necessary. He would have his kingdom no matter what. Even if he had to burn down all of Tudor and slaughter everyone who sided with the King, be they nobility, knights, mercenaries, or even peasants. He would crush anyone who dared to stand in the way of his dream. That way, once Guts finally returned to him he could stand and greet him proudly having accomplished his dream.

"Long term peace?" The Princess asked.

Lord Benedict nodded. "Indeed! But we'll get to that in due time. For now, let us discuss the support Tudor is willing to offer you in this time of need. Tell me, Lord Griffith, what are your armies in the most need of at the moment. Other than men, of course."

"Hm… Food is a top priority. Much of Midland's farmland is in the land owned by the nobles who sided with the King. I plan to capture as much of that territory as I can, of course, but until then we are in need of rations. We could survive with our present supply, but… It would take some complicated logistics, shall we say. We could always use extra black powder for our cannons. Acquiring ammunition is easy enough. That isn't something I'm particularly concerned with. Otherwise, just basic supplies. Boots and clothes." Griffith stated.

Lord Benedict nodded. "The essentials then. Very well. All of that can certainly be arranged. And the fact you have Doldrey means we have a convenient supply line to get those things to you."

Griffith smiled. "Excellent. We have several mines within the territory we control. We can pay for anything you're willing to provide us in the form of high quality ores or refined iron, steel, copper, or silver."

"Ehem… A fine trade, but I'm rather hoping that won't be necessary." Lord Benedict stated, looking at the Princess.

Griffith kept smiling, acting oblivious. "Oh? But we would need to pay for any supplies you give us somehow. Besides which, I believe proper trade agreements would prove quite lucrative for both Midland and Tudor. Plus, trade could be an excellent means of establishing more peaceful relations between our kingdoms. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lord Benedict sighed and leaned forwards. "Lord Griffith, I'm afraid I don't have patience for these games. I believe we both know what I'm suggesting. We're willing to provide all the supplies you need, if Princess Charlotte agrees to marry the Crown Prince of Tudor."

Griffith kept smiling. "Oh, I see. I'm afraid I was but a commoner not long ago, so I'm afraid that did go over my head. My sincerest apologies."

Lord Benedict waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine… So, what say you, your highness?"

"Your crown prince, you say? That would mean when I become Queen, Midland and Tudor would become one. Thus it would be as if we had lost the Hundred Year War. If I agreed to this, I would be dishonoring the sacrifices of all the men who gave their lives to defend Midland. So, sadly, I'm afraid I must decline." Princess Charlotte stated.

Griffith's smile widened almost imperceptibly. He'd expected Tudor might try to pull this. So he'd coached the Princess on this exact scenario in advance. She played her role flawlessly and they had successfully kept their engagement hidden for the moment.

Lord Benedict's entire demeanor changed upon hearing her refusal. His expression darkened. "Your highness, I would strongly urge you to reconsider."

She shook her head. "My answer is no. I'm afraid this matter is completely non-negotiable. If that's unacceptable, then I'm afraid we have nothing further to discuss. Though, if you would be willing to trade we can negotiate fair terms by which we could purchase any goods Tudor is willing to sell us."

"I see. How… unfortunate… Very well then. Let us discuss trade and potential diplomatic agreements." Lord Benedict stated.

They talked and negotiated for several hours. Eventually some preliminary terms were written up.

"I'll have to bring this to my liege and ensure the terms are acceptable." Lord Benedict stated, taking the papers they'd written up. "It could take a month or so, at the earliest. Likely longer. Can your armies manage in the meantime?"

"Of course. This will be a long war. Not nearly so long as the Hundred Years War but long. We can certainly afford to wait a few months." Griffith stated.

"Excellent. I hope you don't mind if my guards and I rest here in Doldrey for a few days. We had to travel a long way here very fast and we're all quite tired, as are our horses." The diplomat requested.

"You're welcome to stay for a few days to rest and recuperate before you return to Tudor, of course." Griffith stated.

"Wonderful. Then if you'll excuse me…" The diplomat stood up and left the room.

"'It would disrespect the men who gave their lives in the war', bah! What a farce… There's something else to this. There has to be…" Lord Benedict grumbled to himself as he marched through the fortress.

"Oh, there is." Said a voice.

Lord Benedict turned and saw Viscount Radford. He was a big man, whose face was covered in scars. Half his hair was missing from a large burn scar across his head.

"General Radford! My apologies, I didn't see you there… Please forgive my grumblings, it's just that my liege will be quite annoyed with her highness' refusal, you see. And I'll have to be the one who suffers his ire once I inform him. I am not looking forward to his ill temper." Lord Benedict apologized, bowing apologetically. He'd thought he was alone! If diplomacy fell apart because he was foolish enough to mutter to himself in Midland territory, his head would surely roll.

Radford waved a hand dismissively. "Stand, you fool. I have no intention of bringing this to the attention of Griffith or the princess."

Lord Benedict stood hesitantly. "You don't?"

"No. Quite the opposite… Come. I have matters I wish to discuss with you in private." The Viscount said before turning and walking away.

Lord Benedict followed him.

Radford led him to a secluded corner of the fortress. "Do you want to know the real reason the princess rejected the marriage?"

Benedict looked at him, "Real reason?"

"Yes. She rejected the offer because she's already engaged to someone else." Radford stated.

Benedict's eyes widened. "What? But I didn't see her wearing a ring of any sort."

"Of course you didn't. They're not so foolish as to advertise their engagement and put a target on the back of her fiancé. A bigger one than there already is, at least. Did you notice how much Lord Griffith was handling the negotiations? Does that not strike you as odd? That he, a man of common blood, was the one doing all of the speaking while the princess who was surely trained for matters of state, assuming her father isn't a complete imbecile, remained mostly silent? It is because Griffith is her fiancé. I saw him propose to her not long ago. Tragically, she accepted the proposal." Radford explained.

Benedict nodded slowly. "I see… Yes… That would indeed make sense… The heroic White Phoenix General, leader of the Band of the Hawk, hero of the Hundred Year War, and the man who so valiantly swept her off her feet and rescued her from her father… And I suppose he isn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. It's no wonder the Princess would fall for him…"

"Indeed. And that would be all well and good, perfectly acceptable, if it weren't for one thing. One simple thing that makes their engagement a travesty of the highest order… Griffith was born a commoner." General Radford snarled. He then turned and started pacing.

"The very notion of it disgusts and offends me! A common man marrying the Princess?! I would have men executed for even so much as suggesting anything of the sort! It doesn't matter that he's been raised to nobility, he was still born a mere peasant and that fact shall never change! For a man of common blood to marry royalty? Eugh…" With a noise of disgust, Radford grimaced and shuddered. "The very thought induces visceral nausea within me…"

Lord Benedict looked around. "Why are you telling me this…?"

Radford glared at him. "Is it not obvious? Have I not made my complete disdain for this situation quite clear? Better her highness marries the Prince of Tudor than some commoner scum! I'm suggesting we work together to remove Griffith as a factor all together. From there, her Highness could marry anyone else and the royal blood would remain untainted by such feculent common filth!"

Lord Benedict took a step back, off put by Radford's rage. Certainly he could understand being upset by the dilution of royal blood with the blood of commoners. Many nobles would be upset by such a thing. But Radford… This level of disgust, rage, and hatred was, quite frankly, excessive.

Still… Removing Griffith as a factor would open up the Princess for marriage. "Hm… Perhaps… But what is it you're proposing?"

Radford gave him a smile filled with more venom and malice than any Lord Benedict had ever seen before. It sent chills down his spine.

Guts had stopped to camp a bit before continuing on to Kushan. He had just stopped at a coastal city to buy some sea salt and was currently smoking some deer meat he'd hunted. He was trying to stock up on preserved food before he reached Kushan. The place was apparently a giant desert so he doubted there would be much game for him to hunt there.

He could probably just buy food from any towns or villages there, if they accepted Midland coin, but he wanted to err on the side of caution. So smoked meat and plenty of hardtack.

He was currently practicing with his sword while he waited for the meat to smoke. He had a few separate fires going to smoke it all even faster.

He went through two handed sword forms with as much skill and elegance as any master swordsman would with a normal blade.

As he practiced, he felt eyes on him. He heard the light, careful footsteps and the breathing, and he smelled them too. Their sweat, their breath.

He ignored them for the moment, continuing to practice. When they didn't just go away, he sighed and planted the tip of his weapon in the ground. Looking around at the forest he called out, "I know you're there. Come on out. I can share some of my food if you're hungry."

He heard their breathing change a bit. They hadn't been expecting him to notice them. Still they stubbornly refused to come out of hiding.

He sighed and shook his head. "My senses are stronger than a normal person. The smoke of my fire is pretty good cover but I can still smell you. I can hear your breathing too. Look, if you think you're going to catch me off guard you've already failed. You may as well come out. I'm not looking for a fight, but I'll defend myself if I have to. If you don't mean to fight, my offer still stands. You can join me by my fire and have some food."

A man stepped into view. He had dark skin, and wore an odd cloth head dress of some kind. His face was covered by a simple strip of fabric for a mask. He had some basic armor.

"You have good senses, giant… Too good. What are you? You're far too big, too strong, and your senses are far too sharp for you to be a human." The man asked.

"The name's Guts. Baron Guts, technically, if I still have my titles which I might or might not… As far as I know, I'm just as human as anyone else." Guts told him.

"Hm… A baron? Of what kingdom? And what is a baron doing out here by himself?" The man asked.

"Midland. I earned the title working as a mercenary during the war. And right now I'm on my way to Kushan. Judging by your clothes, that's where you're from. I've heard there's some good swordsmen in Kushan. I plan to learn whatever I can while I'm there. Swordsmanship is one of the few things I pride myself on. I'm always looking to learn as much as I can." Guts told him. He left out the fact he was searching for a cure for the poison. It wasn't any of this guy's business.

"Hmph… Ironic we cross paths then. I'm heading to Midland… You won't find any forms suited to that cumbersome mass you call a sword in Kushan. I would advise you to turn back and not waste your time, giant."

Guts shrugged. "I've studied everything from daggers to sabers in Midland. So while I prefer my sword I don't particularly care if whatever I can learn is suited to my weapon or not. I'll keep going."

"So you would say you're a master of the sword arts of your homeland?" The man asked.

"Yeah. Why?" Guts asked.

"You look quite strong and I have never fought a true giant before. I'm curious if all that size and muscle is just for show or if you are as formidable as your size would suggest." The Kushan man stated.

"You sure about this?" Guts asked, picking up his sword and resting the blade on his shoulder.

"I am." The man stated drawing what to Guts looked like two strange oversized push daggers with extra blades sticking out on either side, presumably for catching swords.

"Fine. Let's do this away from my fires. I don't want my food getting ruined. There's a river this way. It's clear enough for us to fight without much issue." Guts turned and led the man off towards the river. "What's your name? I told you mine, but you never told me yours." Guts asked as they walked.

"Silat." He responded simply.

When they reached the river Guts turned to face Silat.

"I assume you're prepared. Take your stance!" Silat demanded, dropping into a stance of his own, holding up his strange knives.

Guts made a gesture. "Come on… Any time."

"What? You'll use no stance? Hmph… You mean to use your size and that freakishly massive sword to keep me at a distance. But then, your style of swordplay can't restrain my movements." Silat observed.

"You gonna keep talking or are you gonna attack?"

"Very well…"

Silat rushed forwards and started stabbing at guts with his daggers. Guts just casually smacked his hands off course with his free hand, only turning his body to dodge when necessary as Silat tried to adjust to overcome Guts' guard.

Silat stepped down and a small blade emerged from his boot. He tried to kick Guts in the stomach.

Guts grabbed him by the ankle and swung him around, throwing him into a bush. Finally he pointed his sword at Silat's throat. The tip of the massive blade brushed against the Kushan warrior's throat. The threat was obvious. "Do you yield?"

Silat looked up at him. He stayed silent for a moment, likely trying to think of ways out of this situation. Guts pushed the blade a little harder against Silat's throat. A small trickle of blood ran down his neck. "Do you yield?" Guts asked a bit more seriously.

"I yield…" Silat said, reluctantly.

Guts withdrew his sword and sheathed it on his back. He then stepped closer before leaning down and holding out his hand.

Silat looked at his hand for a moment before taking it.

Guts helped him back to his feet. "You're pretty good." Guts told him.

"Good? You put in barely any effort and defeated me with contemptuous ease." Silat stated, rubbing the spot on his throat that was still bleeding.

"I killed three hundred men single handedly in one night. You're good, but you aren't three hundred men." Guts told him.

Silat was silent for a moment before asking, "And you're certain you're human…?"

Guts sighed and scratched the back of his head. "No. I'm not really sure what I am. But I honestly don't know what else I could be. So as far as I'm concerned I'm human… Anyway, the offer to share some of my food's still open if you're hungry. I'm heading back to my camp. You can follow or go wherever it is you're going. Up to you."

Guts turned and started walking back to camp.

He heard Silat picking up the daggers off the ground and putting them away. Silat followed Guts back to his camp.

They sat and talked a bit over some freshly smoked deer meat. Silat told Guts a bit about Kushan and what to expect when he got there. In return, Guts told him the story of the night he killed three hundred men since he was curious about it.

Eventually Silat got up and had to go. They were heading in opposite directions so that was where they had to part ways.

I'm going to admit, the whole thing with Silat was just filler with me trying to pad out the length of the chapter a bit. I'm not happy with the 2K long chapters I've put out lately but its difficult to stretch out some of these interactions. So instead of meeting during that tournament, Guts and Silat meet well before that on the road while heading in complete opposite directions.

Just so everyone's aware, what's happening with Griffith is a bit earlier in the timeline than what's happening with Guts right now, in case that wasn't clear. Not by too much but still.

Anyway, next chapter is where it all falls apart. Then comes the Eclipse.