The decision to bring along the winter rose does come with a few issues. Not from her. As a James, roughing it on the road for a week or two isn’t enough to remotely bother her. It’s the butterball that causes all the fuss.

I’m not particularly fond of children. Something that has nothing to do with said tykes. It’s me. I am deathly afraid of hurting them or influencing them in improper ways. I guess one could say I like children very much as I am far too careful around them. Can’t even hold them without worrying I’ll break the little things.

Alana’s nephew is no exception. He may have been born in Victory but even the suicidal zealots famed to be the second strongest knights in the kingdom, beneath only the royal knights, are born soft and squishy, the same as the rest of us. He is not as accustomed to the rigors of travel as his mother and we’ve had to do many things to accommodate the temperamental little boy.

Like now. When we left, I expected to be back in Quest in a week. Maybe a day or two more. A frankly ridiculous schedule for anyone else but more than possible with the gifts of my house. However, we’ve been moving at a much slower pace, mostly to entertain Allen.

Sure, we could have just ignored the boy and pressed on but it’s his first time leaving Victory. Yulia wants him to enjoy it. That means stopping to pick flowers, literally. He also can’t sit in the admittedly cramped carriage for more than a couple hours without throwing a fit.

Such complications find us meandering in a field off the King’s Road. We made good time today so I saw no problem in making a stop. We aren’t in a rush to return to Quest and the trouble it holds. Alana is off with Allen, admiring the few eager green sprouts coming up despite the lingering chill, avoiding her sister and enjoying a basket of snacks prepared by Geneva. Leaving me to entertain the bunny.

“I’m sorry for this,” Yulia says from beside me as we lounge on the grass. I daresay she is enjoying her jaunt beyond the snow as much as her son, looking downright content beneath a bright sun, holding a glass of wine in one hand. She’s exchanged her usual heavy dress and furs for a dark skirt and short-sleeved blouse. It’s worth noticing because there is no use for such clothes in the north. Makes me think she’s been planning a trip south for some time.

Also worth noticing because she makes even plain clothes look good. No one with a working pair of eyes can deny that Yulianna James is a beautiful woman.

Another point of contention between the two sisters. It seems Alana grew up being compared to her sister and not in a nice way. Doesn’t believe me when I say she’s the more attractive sister. And she is, at least to me.

Yulia is certainly prettier in the conventional sense but there is more to attraction than looks. My future saint has…presence. What do the performers call it? Gravitas. Force of personality. Though she is plenty attractive in the physical sense as well, what’s inside makes her irresistible to me.

I can’t see inside Yulia. To my perceptions, her heart is a murky mess that makes me uncomfortable. If I weren’t involved with Alana, I wouldn’t say no to her attentions, but I can’t see us being anything more.

Doesn’t mean things between us have to be unpleasant.

“What are you apologizing for?”

She smiles. “I forced my way onto your carriage. For good reasons, mind, but in hindsight, it was a bit uncouth. Not to mention bringing my son. I’m not blind to the fact that our presence is slowing you down.”

I wave off her concerns. “You didn’t force your way anywhere, you volunteered to help and I accepted. Yeah, we’re going slower than we could be because of the of the little guy but it’s not as if we’re in a rush. Alana seems to be enjoying his company.”

“Yes, but do you?”

I grimace. “Don’t let my reticence give you the wrong impression. I like him well enough.”

She giggles. “You’re not giving me much hope for nieces and nephews.”

“That’s different.” Because any child of mine would be strong enough that I don’t have to worry so much about them. As for corrupting them, that’s my job as a parent.

“I hope so. It’s something I’m looking forward to. I used to hope she would never return from the Hall. Join one of the orders run by some summer noble, find a nice man, and raise a family that has never seen the Peaks.” Her voice is soft and wistful as she recounts her fantasy. “I’d visit her every summer with Allen. I knew he’d love it, just like he does. Hoped he’d love it so much he’d run away when he came of age.”

This is the first time I’ve heard a mother wish for her son to run away from home. “Don’t trust your husband to end the war?”

She sighs. “He is an amazing fighter and almost as good of a leader, but Victory has seen many impressive men. Despite that, we haven’t conquered so much as a stride of land beyond the mountains. Five hundred years of failure is a tall wall to scale. Now, with this business of the estrazi…” She shakes her head. “I’d love for him to do the impossible, but I won’t put that burden on him. It’s enough if he comes home safe and sane. Bah! We shouldn’t be discussing this. Let’s talk about your winnings.”

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Not exactly a less grim subject but I oblige her. “What about them?”

“Our strategy to collect them of course.” She drains the rest of her glass and holds it out. Bell is immediately there to refill it. “Is it wrong that I’m excited to negotiate a peaceful surrender with the guilds? I know I should be taking the matter seriously and I am, of course, but this is exactly what I want for my home. Solutions to problems that don’t involve violence.”

“It’s fine. My wife tells me that passion makes people strong.”

“Yes, Kierra is certainly an interesting woman. A shame she couldn’t join us.”

“She’s off having her own fun.” The elf caught an interesting scent and went off on a hunt. Personally, I think it was an excuse for some time alone. The north wasn’t good for my lovely maniac and she hasn’t quite shaken the funk it put her in. I’m getting worried but she doesn’t want to discuss it. If things keep up the way they are, I’m going to have to take drastic action.

“You know, she’s one of the reasons we’re in such a good position for negotiation. I’m sure stories of the March have spread outside of Victory, but I doubt anyone will truly appreciate the threat you represent. I still don’t appreciate it.” She side-eyes me while sipping her drink. “Don’t suppose you’re ready to explain how a woman loses her head and shrugs it off like a papercut?”

“My abilities speak for themselves.” I’ve decided to be more open about my abilities going forward, as there is no way I can pretend to be a simple fire caster anymore, but that doesn’t mean I need to spill all my secrets to anyone that asks. It’s good enough to know that I’m strong and very hard to put down.

She huffs, her bright smile making it playful. “Fine. Be mysterious. Your wife’s verifiable accomplishment of putting a guildmaster in the ground is good enough to represent your strength. That’s crucial, you know. No one negotiates with people they can cut down.”

I hum in agreement. It’s a bit of a generalization but it’s a generalization that exists because it’s been proven right many, many times.

“Now, our strategy. First, I want to confirm something. What do you want from the guilds?”

“Hard to say.” I don’t know what the guilds have but I’m entitled to all of it. “Be easier to tell you what I don’t want. Their lives, obviously. I don’t need their equipment either, unless they’re hoarding artifacts. Even then, I don’t need anything unless it’s extraordinary. Er, don’t need food or drink—"

“Not at all,” Yulia agrees, taking another sip of her wine.

“Heh. Let’s see…I don’t need books unless they have summoning records. I think…I want one of their buildings. Just one.”

“You say ‘just one’ as if we’re talking about sausages. Or drinks. ‘Just one’ building means displacing hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. It’s an assault on their very identity and undoubtedly one of the most expensive possessions they own. Ifthey even own it.”

“Trust me. Those pompous bastards own it.” I can’t imagine the cowardly lord of Quest making them pay rent. I’ll be impressed if he didn’t give them the land as a gift after a stern conversation.

“What would you even want one for? I imagine they’re the same size as a knight order’s headquarters. Far too much building for one person. Or one clan.”

Silly bunny. I suppose it’s not her fault as she’s never seen the Summer Palace. Or even the estates near the capital. If she had, she’d know there is no such thing as too much space. “I want my own property.” The Hall taking a neutral stance in our recent problems has reminded me that we’re not allies. Dunwayne may appreciate Kierra’s abilities, but he has other concerns than our welfare. “This is a good opportunity to obtain a prime piece of estate for free. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of it?”

“Mm. A good point. At least you won’t be demanding all of them. Anything else?”

“Only that they leave me alone.”

“Alright. You’re being incredibly generous, but I doubt the good hunters of Quest will see it that way. To them, you’re going to be no different than a monster. In my experience, the best way to get someone to accept a terrible outcome is to present a worse outcome as an alternative.”

“So…you’re saying that we should go in demanding everything and let them bargain us down to what I really want.”

She tips her glass toward me. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Do you really need an advisor?”

“I need your face more than anything else. I don’t think having them speak with anyone in my clan will yield good results.”

“To think you only wanted me for my looks. I’m hurt.”

Is she…flirting? No, no. She’s just being friendly. She’s married, for saints’ sake. Well, that doesn’t mean anything but still. Just because I would be flirting if I said those words doesn’t mean she is. “Just being practical.”

“I see Alana is rubbing off on you.” More the other way around, heh. “Yes. We ask for something that they absolutely cannot give us. Then, we steadily lower our position until we reach our goal. Each time we concede, they feel they win. That way, after we’ve finally taken what we want, their pride is preserved.

“Remember, Lou. The worst thing you can take from a fighter isn’t his sword or his home. Not even their wife, though it usually goes hand and hand with the thing they value most. It’s pride, Lou. Never take someone’s pride. A person needs pride in who they are. Otherwise, they will abandon that which makes them who they are. Their beliefs. Their traditions. Their morals. And without those, men become beasts and beasts don’t negotiate.”

Not according to Cloud. “I know someone that would disagree with you.”

“Are they sane?”

Good question. “Point taken.”

She chuckles. “The key is not to push too hard. We have to be hard and soft. We goad them by asking for the impossible, but we do it softly. Give them the impression we can be bargained down but make them work for it. Make it too easy and they’ll think they can walk all over you.”

“Subtlety, right.”

“Well, it should be fairly simple. With the threat of Victory marching against them, I’m sure the leaders of the city are desperate for anything that will avoid a war. They’re getting the bad end of the stick with this whole thing but if they’re smart, they’ll swallow their losses and keep what they can.”

“So far, they haven’t shown much intelligence.”

“Yes, well. As I said, no one negotiates with someone they think they can cut down. They thought they could cut you down. Now that they know better, I’m confident blades will be sheathed and grudges will be shelved.”

“Is that what Victory taught you?”

She winces. “If we were dealing with northerners, I wouldn’t be wasting my breath. Don’t worry, Lou. This is going to be easy.”