The only sound heard through the dining room was the clinking of cutlery on plates. The slaves moved smoothly enough not to disturb the quiet, and though Vikar could tell his family was bursting with questions regarding what he had talked about with Leonard Weiss, they knew he wouldn’t answer until after the meal.
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Vikar wouldn’t say that this was what he had envisioned for himself when he was still on active duty, fighting all sorts of creatures and invaders, but he wouldn’t complain either. King Vasily’s wisdom in granting him this old fort had been obscure back then, but it now seemed apparent that he had been given the duty to halt any insurgency from the east.
Life was easier back then. All I needed to know was that whoever braved the Death Pass had to be eliminated. The enemy was out in the open, not hiding in my house.
Purging the servants of those favorable to the rebellion had not been pleasant, but Vikar never shied away from doing his duty.
His children and grandchildren had questioned his wisdom then, saying that he was overreacting and that the Hero would be stopped long before he got to Fort Genus. They were silent now.
At least the slaves were still trustworthy. Theirs was an enforced loyalty, not the kind a free man would give to his country, but considering the army camped outside the castle, Vikar didn’t feel he had any room to complain. He had been in much worse situations with a lot less luxuries. Being able to dine with his family without fear of hidden blades in the night was already more than he had hoped for.
Not that he still didn’t keep the wards up and running. He had personally inspected the control room before dinner and ordered them to be topped off, just in case someone within the rebel camp went around their leader.
At the very least, Leonard Weiss has some manners. I have heard many rumors about him these past few months, but they don’t seem to correspond to the truth. Not that he doesn’t still deserve death. He did rebel against the crown and break the King’s peace. But then again, he’s an otherworlder. What else could we expect from someone like that?
Once the cheese course was served and the various jams that accompanied it were distributed, Vikar gestured for his personal servant to prepare the drawing room for a family meeting.
The man, who had once been his adjutant on the battlefield, smoothly moved out of the room, noticed only by Vikar’s oldest son and youngest granddaughter, much to his disappointment. Again and again, his failure to raise proper warriors was thrown in his face.
Once this mess is done, I’ll have to take things into my hands. I allowed Blanca to convince me my methods were too harsh and might have doomed the older generation, but I can still save the youngest.
Finally, the table was cleared, and Vikar stood up. “We’ll take this to the drawing room. Anyone is welcome to come, but know that once you enter, I’ll hold you responsible for your words and behavior.”
At his glacial words, more than one of his grandsons hesitated, confirming his belief that he needed to intervene heavily in their education. All of his children's consorts had the good sense of making themselves scarce, taking with them the youngest babes.
Vikar led his family to the drawing room, a spacious and comfortable area with several sofas and plush chairs arranged around a large table in the center. The table was dominated by a detailed map of the local area, showing Fort Genus and the surrounding terrain, with the space occupied by the rebel army delineated by a red piece of string. Soft candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow over the richly decorated room. The air was heavy with his family's unspoken questions and concerns, but they waited for him to grant them permission to speak.
Once everyone had settled, Vikar took his seat at the central armchair and looked over his family. His children and grandchildren stared back, a mix of fear, curiosity, and determination in their eyes.
“You may ask your questions,” Vikar finally said, opening the floodgates.
His firstborn, Janus, spoke first, his voice steady but urgent. "Father, what did you talk about with Weiss?”
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Vikar met his son's gaze, "I agreed to a duel, scheduled for tomorrow. The outcome will decide the fate of Fort Genus.”
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Shock and disbelief were written on the faces of his family members. Some exchanged worried glances, while others seemed to wrestle with the fact that their fate was decided without their input.
“That means the reinforcements won’t arrive in time,” Janus muttered, more to himself than his father. “I don’t like this, but if it’s the only way…”
"Father," interrupted his youngest son, Marek, his tone urgent and desperate. "No matter what you’ve agreed, we should send another message to inform General Locke. We cannot be expected to hold an entire army by ourselves. And if you still believe this is the best course of action, they might send someone who can fight in your place.”
Vikar snorted harshly. “The good General has more than enough on his plate appeasing all the idiotic nobles of Treon. It’s surprising enough that he managed to send a few corps out to slow down the rebels in the first place. No, they wouldn’t arrive soon enough. And I will die before I let someone else fight for me.”
Marek clenched his fists, frustration etched on his face. "Then we’re doomed to fail! We cannot trust the word of a rebel leader. How can you believe he won’t ambush you once you are too far for our artillery to save you?”
Vikar's eyes narrowed, and his voice grew cold. "We do not abandon our honor, Marek. Not now, not ever. The duel is our best chance to protect the fort without unnecessary bloodshed. Leonard Weiss may be a rebel, but he is not without honor himself. His reputation demands he uphold his promise unless he wants everyone from the Serpent Sea to Ergh’Ath to know his word is worth nothing.”
“But what if you lose? What will happen to us?”
The question froze the entire room, and Vikar turned to see that it was Beatrice, his youngest granddaughter, who had spoken. He shouldn’t have been surprised; she was the only one with enough courage to say something like that to his face.
“If I lose, you never had a chance in the first place.”
His answer seemed enough to satisfy her, though many others didn’t like it. Vikar couldn’t have cared less. If Leonard Weiss was powerful enough to defeat him on his home turf, he would also be able to batter down the wards and demolish the castle. The promise that his family would be treated with respect in case of his loss also helped sweeten the deal.
Of course, Vikar had no intention of losing. He’d do his best to show the young buck why challenging the old stag was never a good idea. The small taste of power the Hero had given him had been enough for Vikar to understand that he was likely facing a Champion - not something anyone with a sane mind would wish for - but it wouldn’t be the first of his kind he had felled.
Granted, the Orc Lord he had killed thirty years ago had been heavily injured by the time he got to it, but Vikar had only grown stronger since. He might still be only a Master, but experience and age could bridge any gap.
“Father,” Raoul, his second son, spoke in frustration. “Why don’t we just hold inside the wards? The water elementals will prevent any attempt to cross, and I don’t see how they will be able to deal with the fortifications. We can last until General Locke arrives.”
Vikar’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think I haven’t considered that, Raoul? It is exactly because of the water elementals that Leonard Weiss needs to go through us. If we force his hand, he might resort to tactics that could lead to the destruction of the fort. Just look outside! His army built a massive camp in a single day. They are prepared for a siege, and I will not risk them tearing down what I have protected for decades.”
Raoul fell silent, gritting his teeth.
Suddenly, one of his grandsons, brash young Tiberius, angrily beat his fist on the table. “If that’s the case, why don’t we send an assassin to kill the Hero in the night? One swift strike could end this farce. The rebels will collapse the moment he’s taken out.”
The room fell into a stunned silence. Vikar’s face contorted with fury, and he moved with speed far surpassing what anyone else present could follow. In an instant, his hand struck Tiberius across the face with a slap that echoed through the room, sending him sprawling on the ground.
“You fool!” Vikar hissed, his eyes blazing with anger. “You would dishonor our name with such cowardice? While I might lose and die tomorrow, I will never taint myself or our family in that way. An assassin’s blade is a tool for the weak and the desperate, and anyone who would resort to such treachery would find themselves facing my wrath, family or not.”
Tiberius clutched his cheek, his eyes wide with shock and fear. The rest of the family looked on in silence. They knew better than to intervene. “I have given my word,” Vikar continued, his voice now cold and measured. “And I will uphold it. Leonard Weiss may be a rebel, but he has shown more honor than many of the nobles I have dealt with. I will face him in battle, and I will do so with my head held high. If I fall, I expect each of you to honor my decision. Our agreement is that he’ll be given passage but that you won’t be harmed.”
“If you die, we won’t have a choice anyway. Our stores of mana crystals are not enough to keep the wards active under cannon fire for long, and the ancient protections that run on the river’s mana wouldn’t answer to any of us.” Beatrice cut in irreverently, flipping a lock of hair back. “It was always going to come to a fight between you two. This is just a way of preventing anyone from interfering.”
Vikar grunted in agreement, glad that at least someone’s brain was still working.
A moment of silence followed as everyone tried and failed to look unworried. The stakes were very high, and Vikar could feel his blood warm at the thought of the coming fight.
Ever since he had retired - more on request from his superiors to allow the new generation time on the field than out of his own choice - he had gone through the motions of civilian life, but it only took one chance to go back to the battlefield for him to start feeling like his old self again. The Incursion never got close enough for him to justify leaving his holdings unprotected.
And if I were to die tomorrow, it’d be a much better end than old age. I’m not afraid of death. Frailty is my only enemy.
“How good are your chances of winning?” Marek finally asked, breaking the spell.
Vikar stared at his son, for once not dismissing him. The boy was arrogant and slothful, but there was a hint of cunning in him. Watching his father be cut down may be enough to draw it out.
“Weiss will be running high after the easy victories he collected so far, and he’s familiar with the tactics of the Whiteguard. He’ll think he knows what to expect.” Was his answer, and he could see understanding in most of those around him.
Vikar didn’t think he’d be able to win in a straight fight, but he still had a few aces up his sleeve, and if the Hero took him lightly, he’d pay for it with his life.