With a long sigh, Corco stretched his arms behind his back. With an agreement reached between the three princes, all of their differences had been overcome. The nobles' assembly had ended soon after, amicably. However, the the first prince had still spent the better part of the night trapped inside the Pluritac mansion. First was the improvised coronation of the three new kings. Caelestis had come over from the ancestral hall to represent the imperial family during the proceedings. If nothing else, the old man had shown enough shame to keep it brief and avoid eye contact when he put the freshly cast bronze crown on his head, but it did little to alleviate his anger. At least Corco had accomplished the signature of the two laws he had demanded right after. It had still been enough to ruin his mood.
The Arguna weather was clear for once, trying its hardest to soothe his mood. The full moon stood high above the head of the new-crowned King of Southern Medala and illuminated the surroundings in a noble silver glow.
“Congratulations, King Corcopaca,” Fadelio welcomed his master back. Of course no warriors would be allowed inside the assembly of lords, not even attendants, so the man mountain had waited outside all day. Since their conversation in the spy's hideout, he had been stiff and formal in all of his actions.
“Thank you.” Corco looked at his attendant with a frown. He really didn't like his friend's new attitude, but there was little he could do for now. Some appropriate distance would hopefully let the warrior rethink some matters. “Time to go. There's still lots to do tomorrow, and I'm exhausted.”
“Halt! Southern King! This heroic king has further matters to debate on!”
Corco stopped in his tracks, halted by the blaring noise from behind.
If only I had a voice like that, then I hadn't needed to invent that megaphone, the king thought before he turned to find Pachacutec, King of Central Medala closing in with large strides, his golden peacock armor gleaming in the moonlight and his long, tied-up hair dancing in the fresh breeze like a military banner.
“I've got an exam tomorrow. Can't we do this another time?” By the time Corco had finished his pointless in-joke, the peacock had already reached his front and built up his frame in a broad stance. Corco looked behind his uncle to see the rest of the assembly eject themselves from the mansion. The curious bystanders had already started to form into a crowd, with Amautu and Caelestis at the very front of the pack. It seemed like someone had expected the peacock's outburst and prepared the witnesses in advance. Unperturbed by the attention, Corco's uncle continued with a smirk.
“Impossible! There is still the matter of the borders to be cleared!”
“...what matter? You get all the land south of Arguna, along the Argu, Nawi Lake and the Tears. I get everything south of Sinchay. We've been over this.”
Corco frowned as he stepped back over to his Uncle Pacha, back in front of the crowd. He had a bad feeling about this.
“That may be true.”
“Then-”
Corco raised a finger to speak up but was droned out by another ear piercing shout from Pacha.
“However! There is still one piece of land that remains undeclared by the treaty. Right between the two isles, the Narrow is as of yet unclaimed.”
“What are you even talking about? The Narrow from Qarasi castle down are south of the Narrow Sea's coastline, so they belong to Sachay. It's been like that for generations.”
“However, Qarasi Castle has been part of the Pluritac estate even throughout the War of the Isles thirty years ago. By right, it has not been part of Sachay during the encounters and thus should be considered a part of Sinchay land!”
Corco stared at the audacious peacock. Again, he had proven his shamelessness.
“How is that even a coherent argument? Anyways, now it's too late. The land is set. Maybe you could have thought of this before the coronation.”
Pacha's prideful look turned sinister, much closer to the mother's side of his family, as his eyes narrowed and his mouth widened into a smirk.
“...this heroic king forgot. However, there is enough doubt about the southern claim over the castle. Thus, this heroic king will challenge the decision.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“You're insane! Are you trying to start a war right out of the gate?!”
Corco was shell-shocked by the crazy plan his brother had hatched, or been tricked into. Qarasi Castle was built along a river, right at the mouth of the Narrow, the connecting piece between the two isles. North or south, it was a perfect place to defend from all attackers. Even an army five times the size of the defenders would struggle to cross the sturdy walls. After the civil war, House Villca had been forced to deconstruct their Lacari Castle on the opposite hill, Qarasi Castle's mirror on the Sachay side. Thus, Qarasi was the only way for Corco to do his duties as king and defend the Narrow from northern invaders. Without its halo, all of Sachay would be open for the armies of the north. This warmonger was trying to take over the south not even minutes after he had taken power of the center. In defiance of the quiet night around them, a storm began to brew in Corco's heart.
“At this point, only the elders will be able to mediate,” the peacock continued, “what would Elder Caelestis say could be a good way to solve the conflict?”
His hands already balled into fists, Corco's head shot over to Caelestis. He could hear Fadelio's steps move in from behind, ready to hold back or support his master's charge. Despite the cold, large drops of sweat formed on the elder's brow, his throat moved to swallow down his fears. In the end, the old man took a heart and stepped forward, a quiver still present in his voice.
“King Pachacutec is correct. The agreed upon treaty lacks detail. These details must be decided now, through an agreement between the Kings.”
“In this case!” Pacha screamed, “This king will challenge the southerner to a duel.”
Corco ignored his uncle and looked around the crowd. The peacock wasn't nearly smart enough for a scheme like this. Someone else must have planned this. Again, his eyes landed on Caelestis, who ducked down and disappeared into the onlooking masses.
“Your arm is better, is it not, brother? This time, there is no excuse to reject, is there?”
Finally, Corco gave up his search for the culprit and focused on the smug smile of Pacha. He thought back to all the things the little bastard had done. The assassination, the silver turtle, the insults... and back into his head it went, that damn phrase. He still remembered clearly, back when they had met at the banquet. At that time, his hopes had been so high to, after all those years, reconcile with his family, yet all hopes were crushed by the peacock's innocent sounding 'how's your arm brother'. It had only taken a single sentence for Corco to lose all hope in having peace with his family, especially with uncle Pacha. The bastard had always underestimated Corco, always thought he would just roll over and make way to a bit of grandstanding. Unlike the night of the banquet, this time there was no injury holding him back. This time, there was no reason to back down.
“Okay. I'm in.”
“...”
Pacha's dull face became even duller as the crowd of shadows in the back began to whisper.
“Once agreed upon, there will be no more way to weasel out of the duel. This hero will go easy on no man, not even his brother!” Once he had registered what his brother had said, the peacock began to play his villain role again.
“...yeah, I get it. Undefeated in a hundred bouts, right? Let's just see what you've got.”
Corco answered his brother's faked concern with bared teeth. Like a fly, the bastard had done his best to annoy him to death. Today, Corco was determined to swat him down at last.
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Once again, the crowd had assembled within the central yard. After the assembly and throughout the coronation, the furniture had already been removed and the space cleared out. At this late hour, the pale moonlight, enforced by sparse torches, shone onto the circle of sand prepared for the duel and onto the surrounding crowd. As was Yaku tradition, the two duelists would determine just whose fist was the most just under the moon and the stars. For now, the onlookers had to wait for the fighters to get ready.
The roles on the edges of the circle were well distributed. Corco's loyalists stood to Amautu's right, with his brother's giant attendant first among them. Meanwhile, Pachacutec had amassed the dependencies of the Ichilia clan behind himself to Amautu's left. The newly crowned northern king himself occupied the middle between the camps and would pretend a neutral position for now. As servants smoothed and flattened the arena, Amautu watched the whole proceedings around himself with a sardonic smile.
“Well done,” Amautu said to the warrior in his back.
“It was as master predicted,” the gratified voice of his servant returned.
“Indeed,” Amautu answered back. He was very pleased with how his plan had been going so far.
“Though...”
The warrior hesitated, but Amautu's patient “go on” urged him to continue. He would never silence his people. He would rather be wrong than be ignorant.
“If King Corco were to win it would pit the two southern kings against each other from the start, with us to move freely to balance the scales and gain advantage. However, if King Pacha were to be the victor...”
“It would make no difference. If the bastard wins, he gets the castle, but the castle alone is not worth much. After that, he still has to invest the time, money and men to win a war against the south. And then he has to somehow hold his new land. Whatever he intends to gain from Sachay, he will have to spend double that amount to suppress the rebellions. No matter what the bastard does today, it will be his loss.”
A smile crept onto Amautu's face as he watched his giant uncle step out into the center, with all the posturing inherent to the proud peacock he was. Amautu looked forward to crushing him into the mud. With a thought back to the hole in the foreigner's corpse, he just hoped his brother would leave him enough to make him satisfied.