Alaric sighed as he sat at the head of the large table, a map of Ipeirens spread flat across its length. Can there be no rest today? Alaric thought, rubbing his wrists, which by now had turned a hue of purple in the shape of the larsma's hands. The moment he had returned from Waterhal, his advisor, Ransford, had informed him of a message from King Varden of Fosilux demanding compensation for the death of one of his captains during a tavern brawl with a member of the Lionsguard. Alaric scowled at the thought of that message, his face returning to a more neutral state upon the doors to his war room opening as his top captains spilled inside accompanied by Geoffrey and Ransford, who took their seats to the right and left of their king.
“Friends, you are gathered here because of this, this insult to Tenebradia,” Alaric frowned as he ruffled the parchment with Varden's message on it before flinging it onto the table. “Ransford, would you read out the message? So that all present may understand why it is that I am so irritated by its existence?”
Ransford nodded and rose from his seat slowly, his wrinkled skin shifting. He gracefully picked up the parchment, holding it out in front of him as he read, his ancient, yet powerful, voice booming around the room, “Ahem, ‘To King Alaric of Tenebradia, it has come to my attention that a member of your prestigious Lionsguard slew a captain of mine, Wystan, someone who I felt would have soon been inducted as a high-ranking member of my Black Boars—,’ which, if I may add, is almost certainly a lie or exaggeration of some sort, ‘—and whose loss is a slight against me. As such, I demand either one of two forms of compensation: either a direct apology from you and the payment of a hound's weight in gold, or your man sent to me in Edenbury to face his charges of murder—”
“That's outrageous!” One of the captains interjected as others around the table nodded and began commenting on their issues with Varden's tone.
Alaric slammed his fist on the table as he commanded, “Silence! Hold your tongues till Ransford finishes with his reading of this demand,”Alaric spoke that last word with a rare venom in his voice, a chill spreading across the room as all conversation died out.
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“Thank you, my lord,” Ransford said as he bowed slightly, “Continuing onwards, ‘This is a timely matter, as all of Fosilux mourns his death and demands justice. I expect a response within a fortnight. That should give you ample time to make your decision and carry it forward. Let us resolve this neighborly dispute diplomatically. I ask that you not let this devolve into outright war between our great kingdoms. Such a thing would be devastating to both Tenebradia as well as Fosilux.’ And here, at the bottom, signed in the hand of King Varden along with his royal seal.”
Alaric stood, his hands resting on the table. “This is a direct insult to me! To all of Tenebradia! To even suggest that his men are remotely our equal, and to place such demands upon me…it is unacceptable!”
Geoffrey leaned back, his chair balancing on its hind legs, “So what's the plan then, eh? Do we finally march on that old fool's land and take it from him?” Geoffrey grinned, a wild excitement burning in his eyes.
“I have a different solution,” Alaric held his hand up to stifle any objections as he continued, “Rest assured, we will march into Fosilux. But—” Alaric stepped out from between his chair and the table, pacing the room, “—do you not tire of these constant squabbles and meaningless wars between the realms of Ipeirens? For centuries, we have fought, killed, even betrayed each other for generations. Let's not forget that there are more pressing issues. Larsma prowling, ruining towns, spilling the blood of innocents! I'll not raise our future generations in this peril! I say we spill all the blood now and be done with it!”
Ransford raised his eyebrow and Geoffrey merely grinned as some of the other members of the meeting began to murmur. Eventually, one asked, “So what do you propose then? Diplomacy clearly isn't what you have in mind, my lord.”
Alaric gathered his thoughts for a moment before he responded. “An alliance, and an ultimatum. Friends, I believe it is time that this world be united under one banner, one empire to rule all. I plan to take Varden's throne and crown from him, and ask others shall either bend their knee to me or face the same fate! Together, we shall, for the first time in the known history of Ipeirens, have true peace and prosperity around all corners of her lands!”
A few moments of pin drop silence washed over the room, the air still, before the entire table erupted into chaos, men shouting over each other and towards their king.