Like an unrelenting specter, worry haunted General Kain on a day that, in many ways, was as ordinary as any other amid the war’s tension. The command tent was meticulously prepared, every detail aligned to receive the long-anticipated delegation. Palomides, as loyal as ever, had given him a full report on the state of the refugee camp, a human tide in constant flux crossing the lands of Leon daily. They had made every effort to anticipate possible topics of discussion that might arise during the meeting, hoping to be prepared for any eventuality.

At the appointed hour, as had been announced, the Leonian delegation entered the camp. A richly decorated carriage led the group, flanked by an escort of soldiers from the same region. The men bore the arms of Astoria, with the emblematic lion emblazoned on their breastplates. The black garments beneath their armor provided a stark contrast, highlighting the emblems and reinforcing the imposing presence of the procession.

— Hear ye, all — announced the herald — I present to you the illustrious Audus Kurnovizek, loyal servant and official representative of His Excellency Sir Fife McDruffy, Knight of the Order of the Golden Lion and Protectorate of the Queen, Third Count of Astoria.

The herald paused, ensuring that each word found its place in the minds of those present, heightening the climax and solemnity of his performance. He was a slender figure, upright as an oak against the wind, dressed in characteristic red and black attire. In his right hand, he unfurled a large parchment, following all necessary protocols, the governor’s official seal in red wax. His brown eyes remained fixed on the approaching carriage, seemingly oblivious to everyone and everything around him, a calm focal point amid the storm.

The carriage stopped, and its door was opened by a soldier who stood by its side. The herald, positioning himself with deference at an appropriate distance from Kain’s tent, continued his presentation.

— Noble by lineage, bearer of the Ring of the Lion of Astoria, we present Audus, whose deeds and wisdom echo through the chambers of the Great Council, whose prudence and diplomacy stand as the pillars of our people.

The general and his men, standing in precise formation near the tent, were ready for the reception. However, surprise accompanied the persona of Audus: a dark elf of elegant bearing and majestic aura. His hair, as white as fresh snow, presented a vivid contrast against his dark skin, while his fine attire and lofty posture proclaimed his influence and authority without hesitation.

But, like the twilight giving way to night, the ceremonial atmosphere of the moment was abruptly shattered. An uneasy murmur rippled through the soldiers of Asten, who had gathered to witness the delegation’s arrival. A stone, hurled from within the crowd, traced a threatening arc towards the distinguished visitor. One of the guards, with the swiftness of a beast, intervened, blocking the stone before it could strike Audus. The atmosphere of reverence, painstakingly built by Kain, fractured in that instant, further burdening the already pressured general.

Audus’s face hardened, his expression becoming a portrait of offense and caution. He was quickly surrounded by his guards, who moved to protect him from any further threats.

Kain turned to Palomides, who was already issuing orders to identify and capture the assailant. Despite the momentary chaos, he knew they needed to regain control of the situation swiftly. The prestige of Asten and the trajectory of the forthcoming negotiations hung by a thread of uncertainty.

Wasting no time, Kain signaled for everyone to proceed, leading them towards the tent. Immediately, the passage became an abstract maze, a pathway of intricate diplomacy and an elaborate dance of etiquette. The urgency of their movements contrasted with the serene ballet of protocols unfolding.

Everyone promptly moved inside the structure, a space meticulously adorned with heavy fabrics and gleaming ornaments that inspired both admiration and a subtle discomfort. This was no mere tent; it was a stage where every movement, every gesture, carried meaning far beyond the surface, and the future of Asten could hinge on the power plays that would unfold within.

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The silent ceremony unfolded before everyone’s eyes with an eerie clarity. Audus, seated regally on a chair covered with a silver-threaded mantle by one of his attendants, became the center of attention. The mantle, woven with the skill of the highest-caliber artisans, glowed softly under the lantern light.

The eyes of all present wavered between surprise and discomfort as they observed the grand gesture.

Next, another attendant approached Audus, holding a gleaming silver basin filled with clear water. The man stood by Audus’s side, and after formally greeting everyone with a handshake, Audus used the basin to wash his hands. Every movement of the drow was a study in grace, the water flowing over his long, slender fingers before returning to the basin.

Surprise settled on the general’s face as he watched the ceremony, bewildered. Wasting no time, he requested that a pitcher or something similar be brought to perform the same rite. The delicate balance of the situation seemed to depend on these actions, these rituals, and Kain was not the man to disturb such balance. He knew that in these subtle games of power and influence, every gesture, every word, and every silence could be decisive.

Kain directed a sharp look at Audus, striving to decipher the hidden meanings beneath the words that were about to be spoken, in a conversation laden with insinuations and carefully masked positions.

Audus, in turn, began the dialogue. His incisive speech outlined a troubling scenario, where the boundaries were blurred and fraught with uncertainties stemming from the presence of the camp and, consequently, the mass of refugees, many of whom had already crossed into Leonian territory.

— General, it is with a heavy heart, yet an undeniably necessary duty, that I stand before your esteemed presence. I bear the unfortunate task of bringing to light the unsustainable, though no less real, torments that unceasingly plague the hearts and homes of my people — articulated Audus, his voice echoing a peculiar blend of lament and accusation. — We are besieged by a wave of tragedies: murders, thefts, and chaos has become the new standard of life. I regret to inform you that several of your compatriots have already been captured and imprisoned; others await execution. This camp, perilously positioned at the edge of our borders, is a powder keg ready to explode. A likely conflict that, I assure you, is an outcome undesired by both our peoples and our leaders — he expressed, weaving each word with a mixture of lament and rebuke. — I understand the dilemmas faced by the kingdom of Asten, but my lord, the Count of Astoria, has responsibilities to his own people and cannot ignore such misfortunes.

Audus’s speech, though dispassionate, contained a veiled threat. He painted a grim picture of an impenetrable border, an inaccessible domain for the citizens of Asten, a line that could not be crossed.

— It is not with joy that I foresee this possibility, General — said Audus, his voice taking on a graver tone. — But I fear that if the acts of violence persist, we will be forced to take drastic measures to ensure the safety of our people. This would inevitably include the imposition of strict restrictions at our border.

Each word seemed loaded with unspoken consequences, the implied threat hitting Kain like a physical blow. It was terrifying to know that the kingdom of Leon could close its borders to Asten’s citizens, isolating his already besieged kingdom further.

He felt an overwhelming pressure, a knot in his stomach signaling the magnitude of the responsibility now resting on him. He had been suddenly thrust into this whirlwind of conflicts, without a map or compass to guide him.

The gods, he bitterly reflected, must be having a good laugh at my expense.

Taking a deep breath to calm his churning nerves, he responded with a voice softer than he intended, choosing each word with extreme caution:

— We need a period of reflection... Perhaps a week will suffice for us to formulate an appropriate plan.

With a slight nod of his head, Audus allowed a hint of disdain to creep into his expression.

— A week — he pronounced, rising in a way that seemed to fill the tent with his presence.

The opportunity before him was golden; Audus knew he was dealing with a substitute, not the shrewd General Sourbonne. Kain, inexperienced in the jungle of diplomatic subtleties, had unwittingly stepped into every trap Audus had set. Without realizing it, he paved the way for Astoria’s interests to be fully met, becoming, unknowingly, a crucial piece in Audus’s strategy.

— A week for the camp’s withdrawal! — Audus concluded, like a hammer driving the final nail in an uncomfortable pact. His final look at the general carried the authority and firmness of his statement.

With a signal to his guards, Audus departed as suddenly as he had arrived, his entourage leaving a trail of dust along the path leading to the camp. The tent fell silent, filled only with the heavy breathing of Kain and the echo of Audus’s challenging declaration. A week. Just one week to resolve an issue that seemed almost insurmountable.