Valle

“Feast your eyes, people of Cresna! For your Champion—for your KING has returned!”

At first it had felt cynical to try to make an event out of my return when people were suffering so much. It had been easy for me to proclaim I wanted to defeat Johan while aboard a luxurious ship where the death of stats didn’t affect me, but a part of me was keenly aware of the possibility that they had suffered enough that they would want to give up on our lands and join Johan’s utopia.

I was wrong.

The sight of Harlock, the floating castle, was met with an adoration even I had never felt before. Cresna’s docks were a short walk from the city’s walls—about thirty minutes, and usually empty save for dock workers. No one else usually had permission to leave the city for pleasure’s sake, and it wasn’t as though our coastline—beautiful as it was—was favored with a particularly swimmable beach, a harsh current coming from Razil and numerous rocks beneath the waves ensuring few wanted to visit it. Still, there was the occasional festival there. Wonder if we will host it again this year now that monsters make staying inside the walls more vital than ever.

The docks were full with people today. Someone must have spotted our ship from a distance and warned the city to come watch their king’s arrival. And by the divine tournament, they had shown up.

“VALLE! VALLE!”

“FUCK JOHAN!”

“OUR CHAMPION—OUR HERO—OUR KING!”

There was one key factor that unnerved me, however. The crowd was not merely comprised of Cresna’s banners, but also of Portna’s banners. The city that the Executioner had once led. Though there was no visible tension between the two groups, Cresna’s red banners and Portna’s blue uniforms made it plain that there was some separation there. Not enemies, but not close enough to be standing beside each other. Most of those look like diplomats and nobles, the amount of actual soldiers is small—so it is not as if the separation is due to army units. This meant Portna had yet to join our war.

Velize of Portna stood at the front of his people, watching us impassively. His expression was not aggressive, but I would not have called it warm either. Here is a man, I thought, who has not yet chosen a side…but resents us for forcing him to make a decision. A man who had yet to recognize me as king.

Time to get to work, then.

Carr and Isabella were still unconscious from their journey into the void, which was just as well with me. Nevada had suggested using Carr was a piece of propaganda given his infamy in Cresna as the man who defeated me, but that hardly sat right with me. We had argued for hours, but Carr’s lack of consciousness settled the deal for the moment. Max was hardly well known enough to gather much support, though he was the Champion of Relampago and that could be of use later on.

I stood alone where the crowd could see me as we started to “dock” the castle-ship. It felt strange, to be atop a small rocky cliff and observing my hometown become closer, but it was of the essence that they could see me as we approached the docks. It was important that their attention was initially focused solely on me—Nevada and I had thought about this plan at length. We had not predicted Portna’s presence at our arrival, but there were always going to be people who were unsure about whether to bet their lives on me or to choose the safety Johan provided. Even those that have chosen to be loyal to me need some inspiration for morale’s sake. Let’s give them something to remember.

Here, Nevada stepped onto view beside me. We were of similar heights, but she purposefully avoided wearing high heels, hunched over slightly and leaned her head and both hands against the area between my chest and shoulder. She had approached me from my side, so that even in that stance the people could clearly see her face. “This sort of submissive pose doesn’t really suit you,” I muttered. “At all.”

“Worry not, this is hardly how I plan on behaving in our daily life. My supporters are generally the more traditional sort, you understand. They will get something out of the image of the fragile, beautiful princess protected by their mighty leader,” Nevada said, flashing a brief, sly grin at me before looking at the crowd with eyes so kind they almost fooled me. “Have your hands around my hips—not so low as to scandalize the more traditional kind, but low enough that the nature of our relationship will leave no doubts. Our alliance must be clear. Raise your other arm high and wave to people. If there are any royalists in the Terra Inglesa, this is how you will gain their support…and Portna might have its fair share of them.”

How horrifying, I thought absently as I did as asked, she is so casual about manipulating our people…it scares me how easy this is for her. It makes me wonder if she’s trying to manipulate me too. In spite of myself, I found my face contorting into a genuine grin and tightening my grip around her.

“You don’t have to be so genuine with your hold,” Nevada said, smirking.

“Do you dislike it?” I watched her displeasure as I relaxed my grip, then smiled as I saw satisfaction return to her face when I brought her closer. “Thought so.”

“My, getting rather kingly these days,” she said.

We know we are trying to use each other, I thought. But somehow…that kind of works for me. It keeps me on guard. I don’t think I have really gotten to know Nevada yet, but the few glimpses I’ve had of her personality appeal to me greatly. I remembered her betting on Fedal not making a move on Isabella during the tournament—that had appeared to me one of her more genuine moments, when only her personal opinions on the world mattered. When she did something without considering the fate of the Empire or the country. A thought came to me, and I decided to speak it aloud. “I cannot help it, my queen. Every new facet of your personality that I encounter catches my fancy. Mayhap this is intentional on your part, and that only makes me more interested.”

Nevada looked at me blankly, a plain inner struggle that mirrored my own across her face. Should she lie or be honest? “Intentional to a point,” she said frankly. “But not always. And that concerns me.”

“It concerns me too.”

“I pledge you my loyalty,” said Valder, as he stepped up beside us, “but if I may be so bold as to make one request, my king, my royal sister—do not flirt in front of me.”

“That is fair enough,” I replied at the same time as Nevada said, “No promises.”

The crowd’s response to Valder’s appearance was more muted than to Nevada’s, but this was not to say he held less influence than her. Royal bastard, true, but he was also the Lord of Portna for a time and it wouldn’t be out of line to say he held considerably more influence than she did in the Terra Inglesa. Yet there was hesitance among them as well for the same reason.

This was a man who once declared independence for Portna, could he be trusted to serve the King in Cresna? He also fought under the Empire as well as Johan until very recently. He has many followers, to be certain, but it should be no surprise that many are hesitant. Meanwhile, those in Portna were hesitant—he was once their Lord, but now that title belonged to someone else. To Velize. We looked over at him hesitantly. “Say something,” I told him. “Be inspiring.”

“Say what?” Valder’s voice was more a grunt than a question. “Nothing I could say would appease them.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nevada made a sound of frustration, then said, “Brother, we have spoken about this. Just be truthful about your intentions.”

“Ah. Fine.”

Valder raised his arm—the metal monstrosity that replaced the arm Johan had cut off—toward the crowd. At the sight of the mechanical marvel, they quieted down and waited in bated breath for what was to come. The Sun Wolf glanced at us once more, a frown on his face passing on the unspoken question of ‘Do I really have to?’ and being met by our firm nods. He shook his head, sighed once and said, “People of Cresna.”

It felt like a full sentence and it was. Did he not rehearse this at all? Valder, are you insane?

“I am your king’s first knight,” he said. “I swore that Johan would die and my sister has pledged to marry the man who wants to kill him. It seemed like it made sense. Portna will never serve the Empire again—and neither will Cresna.” He regarded the crowd in confusion. Valder had apparently finished speaking his piece, but they clearly thought there was more to come, and this appeared to frustrate him. “There is nothing complicated about this. Johan dies. We kill him. If he makes us suffer, we make him suffer more. That’s all there is to it. Pray tell, what is difficult about this?”

Valder looked at the crowd. “What? Are you still unsure?” Valder, they aren’t unsure of what you’re saying. At this point they are just scared of you. They understand your point. “Do you doubt that Portna will—” Valder stopped abruptly here, as if realizing something. “Ah. Perhaps Portna’s current leader has not yet pledged himself to Cresna? Is that the case? IS THAT THE CASE?”

His strong demand caused a general murmur of agreement in the crowd. “Fucking Velize,” Valder said. “Cretin! Do you hide in this crowd?”

Nevada and I watched in horror as the crowd started to murmur and Velize, the Lord of Portna, started to move toward the pier. The set of guards planted around it glanced at each other nervously, then at me. Father saw to it that Cresnian guards were in charge of this…and they seem to act as if I’m their rightful ruler. That much is good, at least. I have to remember to thank Father for this later. I waved at them to allow him to pass—there was no choice. We could not turn down Lord Velize of Portna’s requests as of yet. “I am here, Valder!” the Lord shouted.

We can’t tell him to shut his mouth without making things worse, but if he keeps this up it’s going to ruin our first impression on people. This situation could get quite delicate. Valder, do not say anything too provocative, we can carefully return your rightful title—

Valder jumped from the ship onto the pier. He did not use his stats to do so, and it must have been nearly thirty feet between where we stood and his landing point—yet the man appeared uninjured. His HP hadn’t changed either. No magic either…he is just a physical monster. Thirty feet was not beyond the realm of human survivability, but it should have been painful for most, let alone someone who had nearly died not too long ago. Yet the man landed, if not graciously, safely.

“It is good to see you safe, my friend,” Velize began dryly, as Valder slowly stood up to his feet. “But remember that you speak for Portna no longer. You gave up that right to join up with the late Emperor, remember? Ergo, Sun Wolf—ah, no, that is not your name anymore, is it?” Velize paused to add with a certain malice, “Your name right now, as decided by your Lord Father, Emperor of the empire you think we should rebel against, is Executioner—”

Valder raised his metal gauntlet and struck Velize in the face.

Nevada made a startled sound, but I kept her from being visibly shocked. Here, I made a snap decision, raising my arm to the side and preventing the guards from attacking. “This is a matter between the Lords of Portna,” I thundered. “Anyone who interferes with this shall fall to my blade.” Both Cresnian and Portnish crowds hesitated at this. I carry enough influence and inflict enough fear that they will refrain from doing anything…for a short while, at least. I am going to bet on you, Sun Wolf. Get this done quickly.

At first it seemed like an attack, but a moment later the even more ridiculous realization dawned on me. He hadn’t merely punched him, he had slapped him with the metal gauntlet. It was a challenge. “I had enough of useless words in the capital,” Valder said in a tired tone. “You did well keeping my title warm while I was gone. Return it to me now.”

“That—that is absurd!” Velize shouted. “Listen—listen! Your claim is legitimate, but the title is currently mine. The dispute is obvious, but if you would like to discuss this in a more appropriate setting, we may schedule a hearing—”

“There is nothing to discuss. I was once the Lord of Portna—I have the right to challenge for the title whenever I want, so long as I live. Portna’s laws and the Empire’s laws say the same. You understand then, cretin?” Valder used his human hand to grab Velize by the collar of his shirt and raised him above the ground. “Duel me for the title or surrender it to me right now.”

Silence reigned even among that huge crowd. Nevada’s face appeared calm, but I could feel her heartbeat racing. This wasn’t what either of us had planned.

“That is ridiculous! To corner me in such a manner! I came here in negotiations with Lord Valente, why, I ought to have you executed for—”

Valder again used the gauntlet to slap Velize across the face. “My first challenge went unanswered, and so I issue it again in the hopes you redeem yourself. My lord, you dishonor yourself with every breath you take without accepting the duel. You know our laws. There is no cornering or trapping. Fight me or surrender.”

“I will do neither!” Velize shouted. “That—that is absurd! To have a transfer of power during a time of war, done by someone claiming independence—that is an act of war in of itself! Even if the laws do not say it, the meaning is clear—”

Valder’s gauntlet hit Velize once more, breaking his nose. “Twice now you have dishonored yourself, my lord,” he said calmly. “Will you continue to insult Portna’s people by refusing to fight for the people you claim to lead?”

“You have no right!” the lord shouted, struggling to free himself from the man’s grip. “You’re just a royal bastard who never should have been given a claim on Portna. It was not your birthright—”

“A bastard has few birthrights, but he has the most important one.” Here Valder brought Velize close to his face to look him in the eye. “The right to earn that which he was not born with. I became the Champion of Portna with my own might and the people elected me as their leader in favor of their useless fucking lord. What tarnished claim do you have, my lord?”

“I—” Valder did not give him the time to reply, striking him one more time with the metallic gauntlet. Even from that distance we could see his teeth flying out of his mouth and the blood pouring from his face.

Valder sighed. “Three times you dishonor yourself. Why do you refuse to fight me, my lord? Our laws say two claimants may settle it in a duel. Continue to deny my challenge and I will have no choice but to see it as a surrender.”

Velize is probably thinking of escaping, running back to Portna and surrounding himself with bought off troops that will not side with the public that adores Valder. So long as he doesn’t accept the duel or surrenders, there are ways he can spin this in a way to split the city in two—either for a civil war or to join with Johan. It was a reasonable plan under the circumstances. Were I the claimant, it is possible I would not have the heart to finish him quickly enough to avoid such headaches. Unfortunately for him, it was the Sun Wolf that negotiated with him.

“I will not respond to such a ridiculous challenge!” Velize shouted. “I came here to listen to Lord Valente’s claims of rebellion—and offered Portna’s aid, under most generous terms that he refused to meet. This is a coup attempt! It is not a valid duel challenge, ergo—”

“Four times,” Valder said calmly. “You tested my patience, my lord, and my tutors will attest to my lack of success in that area. Forgive me.”

He struck Velize once more—another challenge to a duel, but this one was much more severe than the last. Closer to a punch than a slap, this move caused the Lord of Portna’s head to whip backward and stop only because of Valder’s firm grasp on the man’s shirt, suddenly pulling back to its original position and dropping limply. My first knight studied the man carefully then tossed him to the ground. “Velize is unconscious,” he said in almost bored tone, looking at the side of the crowd displaying Portna’s banner. “Anyone else has any objections about me taking my title back? If so, step it up and fight me in a real duel.”

Silence followed again, until one man stepped forward from beneath Portna’s banner. Dressed in the same cobalt uniform as the others, he held his chin high and appeared calm in that sea of unease. Valder’s hand fell to his sword hilt, then dropped to his side and he relaxed into a smile. “Ah. You’re still alive, kid.”

“Same to you, captain. Haven’t seen you since the last war.” The confident young man dropped to one knee. “Portna is yours again.” And at this, the others behind him knelt down as well. There were no objections.

Valder nodded. “Good. In that case, someone throw Velize in a dungeon for crimes against honor. Velmar, send horsemen back to Portna and carry my banner before this coward can wake up and try something. If he wants a duel when he wakes up, I will grant it to him. Until then, I will take this as a surrender of the title. ANY OBJECTIONS, PORTNA?”

None under the wolf banner said a word. Valder nodded, then turned to the Cresnian people beneath the banner of the lion. “There you have it. I am Portna’s lord and I’m not about to betray the man who will wed my sister—much less when he wants to kill Johan as much as I am. ANY OBJECTIONS, CRESNA?”

There were none.

“Good.” Valder shook his head. “I hate how every cretin likes to overcomplicate things.”