Dowager’s training failed him. Lesley chuffed as his expression twisted with his disgust. He managed to smooth his features a moment later but he’d already exposed himself. “I hope you are not offended if I tell you no.”

“Not offended. That’s the answer I wanted to hear.”

It was the first time in Dowager’s life a woman was happy to be called unattractive. He grew tired of their game. “What do you hope to accomplish by talking with me?”

“I want to stop the senseless fighting and help both our people. We need land. You have land.” She looked around at the muddy hell. “Too much of it, I think. Next question. Are your tastes in mates normal for human men?”

“Saints! Of course my tastes are normal!” Dowager grit his teeth as the boarwoman turned to Sir Quintana. He couldn’t read her expression well, but it was obvious that she was looking for confirmation, as if she couldn’t believe him. He’d have to be crazy to want anything to do with the creature in that way. The thought was as disturbing as it was disgusting. “Why do you keep asking about my attraction to you?” he snapped, his frustration getting the better of him.

“…long ago, my tribe suffered a great tragedy because another race desired us for mates. Countless generations have passed and we have yet to recover. The last thing I want is for something similar to happen.”

Dowager almost gagged. The thought of someone, let alone an entire race, desiring the two-legged pig strongly enough to cause a tragedy was incomprehensible but the conviction in her tone sounded genuine. If Lesley was a liar, she was a phenomenal one.

“I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about. While humanity has its…oddities, the overwhelmingly vast majority will not be interested. At all.”

“That is good. Ask your next question, prince.”

“What will it take to make you leave peacefully?”

The boarwoman grunted. “Nothing. We can stay peacefully but we cannot leave. There is nowhere to return to and the journey would kill us. If we’re going to die, we will die fighting, not wasting away over the water.”

“Then you know you’re going to lose?”

“That’s two quest—"

“You can ask two as well.”

Lesley laughed. “Fine, prince. I know I can beat your little army though that one makes me nervous.” She inclined her head toward his protector. “However, I can’t beat a kingdom. Negotiation will be harder if your people suffer significant loss so I want to talk now.”

Her confidence annoyed him. It wasn’t the bragging of an arrogant noble with more pride in their last name than their abilities. She’d spoken about her inevitable victory with the same matter-of-fact tone that she’d used when relating simple facts about the goblins. There was so much certainty in it that he couldn’t help wondering if she had good reason to be confident.

“It’s time for my questions now. Do you know of the race that lives on the land to the south of your kingdom?”

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“We know of them.” One of his intentions for accepting the meeting was to probe into possible cooperation with their neighbors. It was interesting that she’d brought up the subject before him. “They are known to us as elves. Colorful skin, long ears.”

“That is them.” Her tone made it clear that she didn’t like the elves but that didn’t preclude cooperation between them. His father had to work with men he despised every day. Everyone hated the Grimoires but before their sudden collapse, there wasn’t a person in the capital who would refuse them entrance to their businesses and homes. “Do you have an alliance or any other form of cooperation with those animals?”

Dowager amended his opinion. Lesley didn’t just dislike the elves. She hated them. “No.”

“Good. Very good. Then there is a chance there can be peace after all. I think that is enough with our little game. Do you agree, prince?”

“…I believe I have all the pertinent information. Shall I summarize our positions? You are refugees fleeing uncaring rulers, looking for land to settle. I am a prince sent to remove the invaders within our kingdom. We are at an impasse.”

“…I see. A prince is a little leader. You have no authority to go against your orders or grant us land.”

Dowager didn’t like having his lack of authority thrown in his face but the simple truth was he wasn’t king yet. “As you say.”

“I won’t ask you to disobey your orders. I ask that you delay. My army will stay put in this area while you send a message to your tribe chief. Let him hear our petition before we kill one another.”

“My prince, a moment.”

Before he could respond, Dowager’s shoulder was grabbed by Sir Quintana and he was dragged backward. The knight’s eyes glowed but Dowager saw no evidence of magic. “Forgive the rough handling, Your Highness but we need to have a quick discussion about what we do next.”

The prince shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. “I am not a reckless boy anymore. I know very well that this has gone beyond a prince playing at war. We’ll agree to the boar—to Lesley’s proposal and have a messenger deliver their petition of sanctuary to my father.”

“I suggest you don’t do that.”

“What?”

The prince gaped at the knight as the other man spoke with cold logic. “That’s an army out there. I don’t care what their intentions are. Each day we leave them be, the deeper they’ll entrench themselves. We also don’t know what goblins can do with a proper leader. Maybe this Lesley doesn’t want to fight. Or maybe she’s buying time. Either way, I don’t like the idea of leaving an enemy to its own devices.”

“We can’t just slaughter people asking for sanctuary,” Dowager hissed, appalled by what he was hearing.

“Fine. Don’t kill them. Cripple them. Take out seventy percent of the army and detain the other thirty.”

“You expect a peaceful negotiation after that?!”

“Why not? You heard her. They’re out of options. Thirty percent of that army is more than enough to build a settlement if the king decides to grant them amnesty. If he doesn’t, thirty percent isn’t a threat.”

“…I’m surprised by you, Sir Quintana.”

The knight scoffed. “Why? Because I wore the golden armor? I was a soldier before that. I may not have fought wars on the regular but there’s been plenty of times when I’ve needed to make hard decisions. Decisions that had no room for supposed honor. You need to think about the consequences of your choices. All of them.

“If we fight this battle, we may take significant casualties. Maybe we lose. But if they manage to develop a foothold in this area, a few thousand casualties can be doubled or tripled. You remember Aggro?”

“Surely you aren’t comparing goblins to the strongest manabeast on the continent?”

“They aren’t of the same magnitude, but the essence of the threat is the same. The worst advantage an enemy can have is a stronghold. Numbers can’t compare. And there’s a bigger concern. That, er, female mentioned the elves. She clearly has a grudge against them. There’s a chance they could have a grudge against her people. Now, I haven’t personally clashed with the princess prancing around our kingdom, but she has a pure affinity and her skills were acknowledged by Dunwayne. I’d rather face five times as many goblins as the ones we can see than someone with her skills. You accepting Lesley’s proposal may get you a real war.”

The knight sighed. “Look, all of that is just me justifying my gut. I don’t like this. I don’t like this so much, I’m willing to join the fight. No more waiting for you to get into trouble. But, I’m not the commander. It’s your decision, Your Highness.”