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78. Alliances
🕑 Added 2024-10-03 00:51:13 +0000 UTCMark’s entourage went to and from the steam spas without pause, returning to their shared accommodation with satisfied grins.
Well, at least I’ve provided them with some relaxation.
Mark glanced back to the mirror he stood before and slid on some simple gold rings he had looted from the cultists. Their craftsmanship was lacking, but that wasn’t what was important. At least they made him look a little more like a real king.
“Come on, darling, just a little more wine. I won’t tell anybody. You’d be doing me a real favor.”
“Stop harassing our host, Leonard,” Mark glared over at the shirtless man standing unsteadily in the doorway.
“I’m just after a little wine, my lord.”
“You’ve had more than enough. Have you already forgotten the part about being on our best behavior?”
“Fine,” Leonard hiccuped. “Looks like I’ve been cut off,” he frowned at the serving girl.
“Are the rest of you ready? The banquet is likely to start soon.”
“Aye, my lord,” several men rose to attention.
“King Atlas,” one of the mercenaries said. “The big one. You know, the feral you sent off to gather information. He hasn’t returned.”
Right, where is Trayox? I can’t exactly go looking for him, and telling Yelinda or her people that he’s missing is basically admitting that I ignored her request to stay in the room.
“Nothing much we can do about it now. Just worry about your own preparations. Remember, we need to look the part.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Several minutes later, a knock came at the door, followed by several armored men.
“The Body of the Goddess calls you to the banquet hall now,” their leader said, falling to one knee.
“Perfect,” Mark said, waving his entourage over. “Remember what I said. You are the retinue of a king; act like one.”
The half dozen warriors serving Yelinda led Mark and his people through the cave corridors and into the great hall, where dozens of banners of various clan crests hung from the walls and ceiling in celebration.
Huge, hardwood dining tables that looked like they had been cut straight from giant stumps and thrown on table legs dotted the hall, most of which were already filled with patrons talking and drinking from flagons. Several performers were blowing flames and juggling, and hosts walked the hall serving appetizers while other guests were competing in axe throwing at the far end of the hall. Behind it all was a raised platform with the largest table—sitting at this table was Yelinda dressed in silky gowns and thick powder that marked her face in black and red lines that made her look equal parts beautiful and deadly as if the makeup had been designed to impersonate a poisonous spider. Elite warriors and Warmandy elders sat to her sides, save a single empty chair beside her.
“Please, this way,” the warrior said, leading Mark through the maze of tables. “Tables for your retinue,” the warrior bowed beside several empty tables, and Mark gestured for his people to take their seats.
“There’s an empty chair. Did we get the count wrong?” The guard crooked his head.
“Where’s my seat,” Mark interrupted, hoping to distract the man’s thought. There was no good reason that one of his men would be missing, and he didn’t want to try explaining it now. The best option was just to ignore it and hope Yelinda’s warriors wouldn’t dwell on it.
“Yeah, sorry, King Atlas,” the man bowed and hurried to lead Mark up to the raised platform. “Here,” he added, dropping into a bow with his hands raised toward the seat beside Yelinda.
“Thank you,” Mark said and lowered him into the seat, which was cut straight into the stone. It looked as if Mark, Yelinda, and the others at the grand table were sitting inside the platform itself.
Yelinda looked to the side and smiled as Mark sat. “How are you coping with all this?”
“Not going to lie; it’s been a lot to take in. But I can’t see any other way we win back the Frontier. Let’s just hope your people provide their warriors.”
“I have confidence. There’s a strange energy to you. It makes me believe in your mission despite the odds,” Yelinda said, her gaze directed toward the bustling crowd of rowdy visitors. “You know, I had a vision a while back. It depicted a united and prosperous land that stretched from the Daggers to the Imperium. Its people were free to make their own destinies, not beholden to the whims of foreign rulers. When I first saw this vision, I doubted that it could be real.”
“I see,” Mark nodded. “When you offered me vassalization, was that because of this vision you saw?”
“No, not really. All I knew was that something had to be done. I acted impulsively because I didn’t want to see our lands fall to the wargs. It wasn’t until you stepped into my hall that I realized that you were something different.”
“Really. Why me? We are both blessed by our gods, and while I have been successful against the warg armies, I hardly possess a force capable of dealing with them alone. There are likely many clans across this land capable of raising more warriors than me. Why not have them lead this coalition?”
“I think you know the answer to that. Who else would the clans respect as a leader? They all see themselves as rivals to one another. Sure, the minor clans might bow to the great clans, but you’re insane if you think they would ever find a compromise to elect a rival as their lord. You might think being an outsider puts you at a disadvantage, but the truth is quite the opposite. The clan leaders here can offer allegiance to you while saving face, which isn’t possible if they are forced to bow to lifelong competitors. The fact that you are also the avatar of a god makes your leadership that much more compelling.”
“And why not you?”
“Me?” Yelinda fluttered her lashes. “I’m honored. But I face the same issue. Perhaps not here in the West, but we’re not stopping here, are we?”
Mark’s brow rose.
“You understand this truth, don’t you? Even if we were to defeat the wargs, whatever peace and independence we gained would be short-lived if we remained divided. The Imperium might have never attempted to conquer these lands outright, but that doesn’t mean they would sit back and allow another kingdom to form on their northern flank; such a development would be considered too dangerous.”
“Hmm,” Mark hummed.
“You know, rumor travels here even from the Imperium if you know who to ask. We are presented with an opportunity that might not present itself again. At least not for a very long time. The Imperium is pressed by its enemies and threatened by war on multiple fronts. This is why they cannot commit themselves here. And it is exactly why we have a chance to form something great while their attention is focused elsewhere. That being said, if we do not unite the entirety of this land, I fear we will fall. Once the Imperium has recovered, they will no doubt redirect their gaze toward us, and a fractured and squabbling land divided between different kinglings, all claiming the right to rule, will be swept away against their formidable power. No, what we need is a single leader. Someone that can unite all the clans.”
“And will we not face the same issues with you as my wife?”
Yelinda’s full lips curled into a smile. “Don’t get the traditions of the West confused with those of the East. They do not even understand the concept of a matriarch. To them, I will be seen as nothing more than a wife—someone to bear children and maybe, at most, someone to provide a cultural link to the West.”
Children? Wait a freaking moment.
Mark forced a smile and nodded.
“It is inconceivable that a woman holds a leadership role in their eyes. However, the clans here in the West will see it vastly differently. To them, I will stand at the side of the king and, by doing so, give them a voice in a land where they would otherwise be a minority and potentially have their voices drowned out by the more populous and wealthy East.”
“You really have thought this through.”
“You don’t think I just sit around in my hall all day doing nothing but entertaining children, do you?”
“Evidently not.”
“You have much to learn,” Yelinda smiled and looked down at a cub on the table before Mark. “Would you?” She added.
“Would I what?”
Yelinda took the cup and raised it toward Mark. “It’s a drink we make here in the West. Some say it's good for vitality and spirit.”
“And virility,” a Warmandy elder cheered beside them, raising his own cup and downing it in one.
“Virility?” Mark eyed the suspicious, clear spirit. “I ah–”
“Take it easy, Lord King,” Yelinda patted his arm. “Nothing will be expected of you that you’re not ready for. It’s just a drink. Enjoy a little. Soon, you will have a nearly endless line of clans coming to speak to you. And I can assure you, no matter how confident you might be in dealing with them, it will get exhausting after a while.”
“I thought we were the ones asking for gifts?” Mark groaned.
“Technically, yes,” Yelinda said, drinking her cup. “But that’s rarely how politics work. The clan leaders here already understand what you will be asking of them, and they plan to get a return on any investment they make.”
“I suppose that’s understandable,” Mark said, raising the cup.
Here goes nothing.
“RAAAAAARGGH!” A roar echoed over the commotion of the hall, and a second later, one of the wall-mounted banners fell from above as two figures tumbled down beneath its cloth, landing before the table where Mark and Yelinda sat with a thud.
“Die, spy,” a voice growled, and the banner shook as what looked like a brawl took place beneath it.
“Get back, Lady Yelinda,” a warrior barked as a group of shield-wielding men with drawn swords formed a line between their table and the thrashing banner sprawled in front of them.
“Ha, take that,” a man said and threw the torn banner away, revealing his huge form standing over the broken body of a cloaked figure.
Trayox?
“Surrender,” one of the men commanded, stepping toward Trayox with his sword pointed.
“Huh?” Trayox grunted, turning toward the men with a puzzled look. “Lord Atlas,” he added, waving.
“What is going on, Trayox?” Mark said, shaking his head in embarrassment.
“Hunting rats,” Trayox grinned, revealing a vial between his fingers. “Poison. It was meant for this feast.”
Gasps flooded throughout the hall.
“What is the meaning of this?” One clan lord said.
“Is this some kind of ploy?”
“The Withabri demand answers,” another shouted, bouncing up from his chair.
“Please, calm,” Yelinda said, raising her hands.
“Calm? There’s a dead man in the middle of this feasting hall and another holding what he claims to be poison. How can we be calm?”
“Hear, hear!”
“Speak, Priestess, or our people will leave!”
The crackling roar of thunder burst through the room as ribbons of electricity shot out toward the ceiling, and Mark’s eyes shone bright white as he stood up from his chair, energy flooding freely from his hands.
“Silence!” He bellowed, and several clan leaders fell back to their seats. “This man is a warrior of mine, and if he says he has thwarted an enemy, then he has.”
Several figures across the great hall began to nod cautiously.
“If our enemy sends its assassins here to attack us on this day, then it means they fear our alliance.”
“He’s right,” Yelinda said, rising beside him as the lightning receded and Mark lowered his arms. Grabbing his wrist, Yelinda threw it back into the sky, holding it above their heads. “Our enemies fear our union. They fear what the clans could achieve if they were united under one banner.”
Several among the crowd shot up from their chairs and cheered.
“Why should we, The Vaghani, bow to someone who cannot even keep their own hall safe?” An old man hissed as the cheers quieted. “Come, we have wasted enough time here,” the old patriarch said, turning to leave.
The people at his table rose from their chairs and followed but slowed as they looked around at the stony faces around them, clearly expecting the clans sitting nearby to follow their march.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” The patriarch growled. “The great and powerful Vaghani Clan is leaving,” he said, turning on the spot as he glared at the minor clans he had expected support from.
“Dear Vaghani Clan, I apologize for this disturbance, but please return to your seat,” Yelinda called out. “We have seen enough division between our people as it is.”
“Sit down, old man,” Mark commanded.
“The disrespect,” the Vaghani patriarch spat, turning back toward Mark and Yelinda. “How dare you speak to me in such a way.
“I will not allow you to divide us,” Mark said, making thunder crackle again. “If we are to survive the threat we face, we must stand as one. Strong against the tide that threatens to wash us away.”
Expressions among the crowd twisted with confusion, and Mark realized that talking about tides to a mount-locked population probably wasn’t ideal.
“If we stand together, we can win. We can create a united force and elevate the Western clans to where you all belong!”
To that, the crowd broke into a roar, rising from their chairs and clapping.
Alright, now we’re cooking.
