Three feathered mounts lined up some fifty meters away, their leather tack gleaming under the light of the Twins, burnished silver buckles, and stirrups crying out the wealth of the owners. The Baron ruled an entire City State of a trade empire turned real empire, so that was to be expected.
When the three dismounted, Ulric was not expecting to see that the Baron was every bit as large as himself, who was one of the larger men he'd come across in his travels, especially compared to most Elves. The Beastkin, of course, were a totally different animal, if you will pardon the well placed pun. He was most especially not expecting to see that the armored woman was near a head taller than himself and the Baron. Great googly moogly, what a heap of lady! The wrinkled old geezer who'd tried the ol' surprise Skylance trick was a dwarf next to the two of them.
Armor made slight jangles, and the leather and chain beneath it creaked lightly as they came on, the only other sound the distant jeers of sea birds on the wing, keeping time with the wind.
At ten paces, the three stopped and leveled their gazes towards himself and his Shadow-Wife. Enemies on the field meeting for the first time, none exactly certain where the other stood, none completely absent the confidence that blood would be shed between them. For a handful of breaths, the two groups took the measure of one another, though no one attempted a [Scan] which would have initiated combat.
"I brought your men back to you. They were killing innocent men and women on your lands, so I treated them like bandits. Thought you had the right to know." Ulric said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
He hadn't intended to start this dialogue by being an asshole, but he responded oddly to stress. It brought out the inner misanthrope in him.
Cool dark eyes took him in, dissecting him to the bones. The Baron wasn't a man of great humor, only quiet dignity and calculating mind. And, there beneath it all, a simmering rage waiting to be loosed. Ulric knew a fellow who held himself on tight leash when he saw one. Like knew like.
"My men. Did they suffer?" Came the crystal-clear baritone, cold as a mountain spring, black eyes burning from behind the enameled and engraved barbute over his skull.
Ulric held back the urge to frown. He knew danger when it was in front of him, just as he'd known it when he stood before Bald'rt in his court. The Baron was a destroyer. He was considering destroying Ulric.
"They did, briefly. Some of them more than others." Ulric said honestly.
It was in his nature to not sugar coat things and there were some men to whom you did not attempt misdirection or find yourself regretting it soon. The Baron's features soured slightly, ever so much, at Ulric's confirmation, though he made no other gesture. Thusly encouraged, Ulric continued, determined to have it under blue skies exactly how those men had died, and why.
"My kin were warned of the presence of a detachment of warriors from your city. I and mine are no friends of your kind and sought to go around them. That proved impossible, they were bearing down upon those under my aegis at speed. My partner and I intercepted them, employed a gaseous poison that stopped their hearts, among other things. Your healing mages burned themselves out trying to heal the entire detachment, in addition to fighting off the poison in themselves. The hardiest of them, including your Captain here, and some of the mage choir, survived, and made their way to a village of freemen, where they burned the village, pillaged it, and murdered their own kin, those that they did not bind for torture and execution in your city." Ulric recounted evenly, trying to remain neutral when speaking of atrocity.
Now the Baron did frown, and so too did the ogrish woman and the ancient man. Ill news to them all, it would seem. Clearly, they did not take the loss of their fellows well, which was actually a mark in their favor. This Baron felt loyalty to those under his command, and cared for their fates. Best to tell it all and be done with it, so that they could get down to the brass tacks.
"Some few survivors escaped the village. One of those begged my aid, on behalf of her mate, a young mage who stood against his former colleagues and slew them for their crimes. I gave my oath that I would go and try to save those whom I could. When I came to the burnt-out village, I saw the remainder of your men and gave combat. Those I fought myself, and those did not suffer much when they fell under my blade. I do not love giving pain, even though they had earned it. My people were in their path next, after their own folk, and I could not allow your soldiers to carry swords against them as well." Ulric finished, his own hard glare turned on the three who commanded those soldiers to what amounted to banditry by executive order.
"What of my Captain there, who you have bound like a rag to your pole?" The Baron enunciated each syllable too clearly.
"She lived. It was not my intent, but her sun shields were solid enough, at the end, to keep her from death. I decided to bring her back to my camp to pull answers from her regarding what your people were doing out here, and who you all are that gave them their orders to do what I judge in my homeland massacre. My partner extracted the answers within an hour and we decided to return her to you as part of our bargain."
"And the Panther skull?" The large woman demanded, from behind her helmet.
"A [Cloud Leopard] tried attacking while I and my lass walked here. Had to kill it on the way and figured I might as well bring along everything that has stood in my way the last week, just so we here are all clear what I will do about that, if it prove necessary." Ulric told them bluntly.
The three exchanged unreadable looks over that remark. A Greater beast was no small threat. That the human man and the Elf woman were not evidently harmed by it during the killing said much about them. That he would baldly threaten all three of them to their faces also said much.
"Will you return my men to me then?" The Baron asked, all cold aloofness.
"They are still yours, even dead. I do not want them, nor did I want to kill them. But when a warrior leaves his hall behind and goes bearing swords, he accepts that chance. They lie in a small hollow, about fifteen kilometers from this place. Other than take their helmets, they are undisturbed, and unlooted." Ulric told the Baron, which was pretty damned sporting, if you asked him.
Had he been of a mind, he and Taipan could have brought Elves back to that site and looted everything of value off the warriors, stripping them down before leaving them to the carrion feeders. They had left the dead in peace, instead.
"I would have that banner now, then. If you please." The Baron demanded.
"Let's get to it then, shall we? I came here for the ships in your harbor, to sail my people home." Ulric countered.
The Baron's expression startled for a moment before resuming its calm. That was not apparently what he had been expecting to hear.
"The bollocks on this pup! Did you pack them over your shoulder there afore you came walking boy?" The Old Mage exclaimed.
Ulric locked eyes on the old mage and he quieted.
"You there. It was you sent lightning toward my mate. You and I have things to discuss. Later. When I am done speaking with your Lord. My word on it." Ulric promised the Elder Mage, who looked none too pleased by that oath.
An uncomfortable moment passed before Ulric returned his attention to toward the power that ruled this walled city.
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"I would buy ships and crews, to carry my folk from these lands in peace, without grudge or vendetta."
"You wish that I should give ships from my harbor to take my enemies homeward?" Baron asked, voice raising slightly at that.
"I wish that you should stand aside while I bargain ships fairly, speaking with captains and crews unmolested, that I do not have to be enemies of your people. At least not for a while yet." Ulric corrected.
"And you believe that I should allow this? Why?" The Baron inquired.
Ulric considered that question a moment. Why indeed? Mostly because he didn't want to kill anyone he didn't have to, and if he got those ships and was able to sail them to the Zelas, back to Orlethrem territory, he'd be able to kill far fewer people than if he had to fight his way back across Prespang. Fewer Elves would die. Fewer Valin. Fewer everybody. He'd had just about his fill of killing anybody that wasn't one of the Merchant Lords or the ones who were actively trying to make the Bane.
"Because it means less bloodshed if I am not forced to cut my way through your and any other warriors sent against me. You seem to care for your citizens, the ones behind your walls, at least, and a rational man is one who will accept a bruised pride if it preserves the lives of his charges. Except for that Magister up there on your wall, by the by. Him I am going to kill today. They murdered a friend of mine at his grand-daughter's wedding and I am not done by half burying Prosper's Magisters." The Lord of the Ancient Glade told his fellow Lord, in no uncertain terms.
The Baron laughed then, clear and carefree, a pleasant chuckle of mirth that soon turned into a rolling guffaw of humor. The man didn't look like he'd laughed that hard in years. He wiped an eye when he was done and his features were less rigid than any time before.
"I haven't been spoken to like that since my father. Or Old Geras over there." The Baron said lightly, "You aren't afraid, are you Barbarian?"
He wasn't. Not because the lot of these bastards weren't fearsome, that was sure. He'd caught the old geezer's lightning but using Ceraun against him was basically the worst idea you could come up with. Especially after those bastard goats had taught him he could wrangle their own mana and take hold of it. The Wizard almost certainly had other weapons, more devious ones, things Ulric hadn't even thought were possible. The other two were just scary looking fighters, who moved reminiscent of the Royal Guard, veterans of combats with monsters and men, talented and polished in their arts.
Mostly, Ulric wasn't afraid of these people because he'd stared the [Forest Lord] in the eye and known what certain death was and nothing after that was ever going to come close.
"Ah! Forgive my rudeness," Ulric exclaimed, realizing that he hadn't even introduced himself, too jangled by nerves to adhere to common courtesy, "I am Ulric Einar, [Lord of the Ancient Glade]."
He then gestured to his side, towards the impassive beauty standing tall beside him, her grace and posture screaming threat should anyone do anything stupid, "This is my wife, Taipan of the Ancient Glade."
The Baron unclasped his helmet, pulling the thing from his thick, black-haired scalp, to hold cradled in one arm. Without a word, the giant woman at his side did the same, freeing a tremendously long auburn braid to fall over her shoulder. It was nearly as long as the great sword on her back!
"We are none of us remembering the rules of civility in these days, it seems. Under parley, I should not have come with covered face. My apologies for this break in decorum." The Baron said sonorously, before declaring with effortless volume, "I am Tras Kistalfer, third of my line and Baron of Kistalfer. This is my blade, and my right hand, Miria."
A gauntleted hand indicated the comely, if severe, looking lass in the plate armor. Next, the armored glove pointed toward the old mage, who tried to stand a little taller than his customary slouch against his staff.
"This one is Master Geras Etwinfar, High Mage of Kistalfer. I have brought him here that he may make an accounting for his presumption earlier. The Magus forgets, in his years, who rules Kistalfer at times." The Baron said, all cool dignity again, while the old man scowled.
Damn. Ulric was going to have to practice that later. That whole quiet lordliness stuff was sort of off putting. Made him want to salute or something, it was fucking weird. Could that be some kind of class thing? Almost he wanted to ask, but that would be sacrificing what little standing he had here, acting like a rube. Perhaps he should trim his beard a bit? Ah fuck, he’d worry about it later.
“I know nothing about this Taipan you speak of, but the Aes’r standing by your side is Geyrt Iriel, an ancient enemy of Prespang.” Spoke the goliath red headed warrior, frowning directly at his Shadow.
“Short are the memories of Valin. It was Prosper, your masters, who murdered my brother before you here were all whelped. It was Prosper attacked my home, murdered the Legranel King and his entire family, not a year past. It was Prosper that came for our children, our farmers, our grove tenders, not two months past. Enemy am I, but one you created by your own choices.” Taipan responded, crisp and precise.
The Baron raised a hand and his guardian beast subsided, still clearly chewing her words.
“We are not here pretending that we are allies, without grudge. I am full sore over the fates of my men, though they were given no order from my lips to attack the freeholders in my realm. I sent those men to confirm hearsay, and to know the truth of matters, not to take it upon themselves to purge the village. I would guess that those orders came from the lips of my Captain?” The Baron asked, not sparing his ill will toward the bound woman.
Taipan inclined her chin by degrees, “That was her confession.”
Dark eyes narrowed toward the prisoner, but Baron Kistalfer’s tone changed none, self-control ironclad, “Then I would have her returned to me. She has much for which she must answer to me. The lives of my men. The fates of those freeholders. I will not tolerate rebellion upon my land, usurpation of my realm, but neither do I condone the butchery described here.”
Funnily enough, Ulric believed him. Mostly, he had a pretty decent bead on when somebody was trying to jerk him around. He didn’t get the sense that this man before him did much in the way of misleading anything. Too proper, too uptight, too rigid in his honor, and bearing. It was beneath this man to get his way through untruth. He’d crush you before he bothered lying to you. Ulric could respect that, even if it meant he was dealing with a dangerous entity. Only the absurdly powerful or the insane had that kind of confidence.
"It is my intent to give her back to you Baron Tras Kistalfer." Ulric agreed, "But not for free. I won her fairly, you might say, and in the doing took under my cloak all those who survived the slaughter. Now I am loaded down with mouths to feed, ones whom I must shelter and protect. I had people enough to keep, and now, I must keep these as well, thanks largely to the woman in question and the, perhaps misguided, actions of your own troops. Ultimate responsibility for this lies upon your shoulders, Baron, these are, as you said, your lands." Ulric reasoned.
The Baron took that consideringly. He and Taipan had worked on that line of argument for a couple of hours, her with the knowledge of the common accords for Lords and he with a knack for spotting logical inconsistencies and lawyering people over small details. It was a fairly compelling angle of attack for any honest negotiation, and how the Lord over there responded would basically dictate the remainder of this diplomacy. If he brushed this off, Ulric knew that no good faith agreement would be made this day.
Dispassionate dark eyes searched Ulric's own light grey, penetrating stare giving away none of the thoughts behind. Ulric held firm. So far as he was concerned, he was in the right on this. Both morally and according to what passed for the laws of the land.
"I will concede this, in part." Baron Kistalfer admitted, after several minutes careful thought.
"These are, indeed, my lands, and those were also my warriors, acting on the orders of one I appointed to lead them, who thereby spoke with my voice, however much I now regret that choice." The Baron said, his smooth tone leaving no doubt about how much someone would be paying for those regrets.
"However, it is also troth that you and your Iriel'en wife have slain my warriors, have shed their blood upon my lands. There must be a price for this, ere I will no longer be worthy to wear the circlet of Kistalfer." Baron Kistalfer concluded.
Ulric nodded and pushed the staff forward, offering it up. The symbolic were gild of his soldiers bodies and the one who had led them was accepted, the great sword wielding woman Miria taking it in her gauntleted hand, holding it every bit as easily as Ulric had, in spite of the top heavy thing. The loss of the [Cloud Leopard] skull and the core inside was a not so symbolic part of that exchange, both were worth their weight in Aur Knights, being the rare components of a Greater beast, one that had hunted the Baron's lands and peoples for no telling how long. Greater beasts tended to live for many decades, sometimes hundreds of years. As wily as that one had been, it was likely on the long end of that time frame.
"That debt is settled then. We may now turn to the matter of ships." Baron Kistalfer proclaimed, closing the book on the deaths of a hundred warriors and a couple of dozen freemen.
What a wild world, Ulric thought to himself, as the exchange proceeded how Taipan had explained that it would. There was a time, the most complicated thing he had to manage was not embarrassing himself in front of all the high tier warriors in Irielhos. Or tracking down an asshole flesh merchant using his cabinet position as a front. How the hell did I end up here? Ulric asked the universe, expecting, and promptly receiving stone silence. I ought to be in a library somewhere, he bitched. If I could read. Damn it, focus!
"What would an enemy of Prosper ask for the ships I have held in my harbor to prevent Prosper's enemies from having them?" The Baron asked, indicating that their prices were high indeed for his especial precautions for them.
"That would depend upon the ship's captains, the quality of their vessel, the size of their crew. We will sit down to bargain, these captains who surely have desires that lie outside of the harbor of Kistalfer and I." Ulric returned, indicating that the prices might be lower for the defacto freedom he would grant them by liberating them from the Baron's quarantine.
The old wizard snorted at the exchange and muttered, "Barbarians and their horse trading."
If they thought that he was the worst thing that would happen to them while haggling, they had not reckoned with his wife. Taipan would have their socks in the deal, and half again as much as Ulric actually needed to boot.
"Your intent is to enter Kistalfer and speak with its citizens? That I cannot allow, not for any reason. The Magister would send word to Prosper of treason at the suggestion, and then it is my own fellows I would find at my door." The Baron informed him.
Ulric nodded along with that rejection, it stood to reason before he sweetened the pot, "Then why not go enjoy lunch with your fine company over there, for, say, no longer than a Round of the Twins. I would light the fires and cook the meal myself, if you would not mind the absence of my wife, who cares not much for polite company. The Magister would no longer trouble you when your meal concludes." He suggested.
The Baron denied that motion, although a twitch of his lip, the ghost of a smile, indicated that there was no love lost between the two of them. Oho! It would seem this man does not love having his rule second guessed by his gilded masters from afar. Cracks indeed were showing in the apparently solid Empire of Prosper.
Who'd have thunk it, a competent, self-assured ruler who sees his people as being subject to the will of a far shore is bound to chafe, especially when that will seeks only to extract, to consume, rather than to cultivate.
"The Glade Chief has offered you little but gain, Lord of Kistalfer." Taipan interjected, breaking her silence.
"To ease the pressure of keeping unwilling captains and their crews in port, to permit an enemy to depart your shores without raising violence, to pull a thorn from your side in his passing, under circumstances which none could use to impugn your rule or honor. What have you to gain by uncompromising stance?" Taipan ventured.
"Loyalty? To Prosper?" The Lady of the Ancient glade scoffed at the notion, "Your loyalty is to dew at day break, soon to evaporate. She will not stand, not after using the Bane against my father. Orlethrem will scour the Golden Thrones from Aesvartheim. We will not stop at the border this time. We will cross, in force, and there is nothing that will stop us from putting those who consort with Forbidden to the flame." Taipan declared.