Touch of Fate

Chapter 185: Diplomatic Measures

Chapter 185: Diplomatic Measures

[Well, I have to give him credit for originality. I wouldn't have thought you could do that with a ladle, or that Almiran birds were so easily provoked. Maybe I can get him to show me that move sometime.] Mike thought to himself as Henry finished his story. Regardless of how outlandish his misadventures had sounded, the man's charismatic storytelling had captivated the group, quickly removing any tension.

[I can see why the commissioner sent him. He's a natural when it comes to working a crowd. If I can provide the appropriate backup, he might just be able to lead negotiations in the right direction. Speaking of which, it sounds like they're about to start.]

Light flooded into the tent as the flap was pulled back.

"Attention!" The Tenundian sergeant hollered from outside. The guards, who just seconds before had been in the throes of companionable laughter, shot to their feet, staring straight ahead nervously.

A man dressed in suit of studded leather armor calmly stepped into the tent. A battered cavalry saber was strapped to his waist. With short, salt and pepper hair, several days worth of untamed stubble on his chin, and a face lined with worry, exhaustion, and irritation in equal measure, Mike figured that he was probably in charge.

The only aspect of his appearance that separated him from the rest of the soldiers was an elaborate sash, which feature an emblem of two crossed swords surrounded by a laurel wreath. However, the palpable air of confidence and authority that followed him suggested that he was someone who had grown used to commanding others.

A quick Appraise gave him more information.

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Kiertesan Mal Ferunti

Age: 43

Race: Human

Class: Warlord

Title: Grand Marshal

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[Looks like the commander.]

Mike briefly considered attempting an assassination of his own. If he moved quickly enough, he thought he might be able to take down the lot of them. Red was on standby in the air overhead. Assuming he could fight his way out, the pair of them could be leaving in a matter of moments.

Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the Marshal's glaze slid over to him. Feeling the weight of those eyes, Mike dismissed his plans. He had no way of knowing how individually powerful this Kiertesan was. Besides the pair following him in added another layer of difficulty.

The first was an elf with pale, slightly grey tinted skin and long silver hair held back with a rune-inscribed headband. He stood slightly taller than the Marshal, who was of average height, but was more slender. Dressed in a set of delicate chainmail with leather backing, he looked like a warrior, although Appraise said otherwise.

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Nurenal Vunanlen

Age: 143

Race: Moon Elf

Class: Arcane Battlemage

Title: Master of Eldritch Arms

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[So that's what moon elves look like. I'm not sure I see the resemblance with the Almiran royal family, but I suppose they bloodline is probably fairly diluted. Anyway, it looks like this guy is following a path similar to my own. He might be troublesome to deal with.]

He tried to Appraise the headband, figuring it might be a magic item, but unsurprisingly failed. He'd had similar problems in the past, and after some experimentation, determined that he couldn't use the skill on items that were worn or held by another living being. Although, he suspected that a more advanced version might not have the same limitation.

[Maybe he'll let me examine it if I ask nicely.]

Dismissing the thought, he focused on the last of the new arrivals, a woman dressed in a grayish brown military uniform. Unlike the other two, she didn't appear to martially inclined, since her posture and stance had all kinds of openings that could be easily exploited by a skilled fighter. Her shoulder length, chestnut brown hair had been pulled into a pony tail, revealing a youthful face that was split in an amused grin.

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Liri Yondalin

Age: 23

Race: Human

Class: Tactician

Title: Master Strategist

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[A strategist, huh? From the looks of it, they brought a good portion of their command staff. With minimal guards as well. Are they that confident?]

"Sergeant Trenton, take your men and report back to your post." The Marshal growled in a rough voice, no doubt affected by years of yelling orders.

The sergeant hesitated, perhaps wanting to make excuses for his soldiers, but finally saluted. "Yes, Sir! You heard the Marshal, let's move out."

[Definitely confident.]

Once the tent had cleared of everyone besides the negotiating parties, Kiertesan looked at Mike and started speaking. "Apologies for the roughness of the accommodations. We only arrived this morning, and I have not yet had the opportunity to straighten this camp out."

Mike nodded, "It is of no concern. I have certainly stayed in worse."

The grizzled man nodded in reply, "Right, well let's get down to business. Who are you and what do you want?"

[Hardly an accomplished diplomat.]

Mike waited for Henry to do his part. He could almost see the captain sighing internally, before bowing politely and introducing them. "Please, allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Captain Henry Varnes of the Almirn City Watch, here as a representative of the City Council to negotiate a peaceful situation to theumdisagreement between our two nations. My colleague is the Dragonknight Erasmus, who requested to attend this meeting in his capacity as the emissary for his order."

Kiertesan frowned at that last bit. Likely, the thought of facing multiple dragons on the battlefield was a concerning one. To his credit, though he didn't skip a beat. "Very well, I suppose I should introduce us too. I'm Marshal Kiertesan Mal Ferunti, commander of the Liberation Army. These are members of my staff, Nurenal, the commander of our Mage Corps, and Jiri, my adjutant."

[Adjutant and not Strategist? Is he trying to keep her identity concealed for some reason? Or is that just what they call strategists here. Now that I think about it, I don't really know how they structure the military in this world.]

Turning his gaze back to Mike, the Marshal continued. "Now that we're all acquainted, let's talk about what you hope to accomplish here. You say you seek a peaceful solution, but you may as well be admitting your weakness. We know that your armies are scattered and disorganized, your administration wracked with a civil war, and your situation desperate. Why bother negotiating, when we can simply take what we want?"

Henry laughed, drawing a scowl from the Marshal's adjutant. "It's as you say. We are certainly in a tight spot right now."

[Oi!]

"However, the walls of Almrin have not been breached in five centuries. Even with your assembled military might, I doubt that you can take the city by storm, nor can you afford to supply your oversized army for a lengthy siege. Quite simply, the best you can do now, is to hope for our early capitulation. We want to offer an alternative. A way in which both parties can walk away with something for their troubles." The roguish man finished with a cocky grin.

[Hm, an interesting tactic, but I would be surprised if the Tenundians had made it this far without some kind of countermeasure for our defenses. Maybe he's fishing information? I probably should have walked through this with him before we got here.]

"Not a bad summary of the current situation, but I don't believe it's quite as hopeless as you make it out to be. I'm well aware that the majority of your skilled fighters are trapped on the other side of the river, and that you are forced to rely on citizen levies, mercenaries, and old soldiers pulled out of retirement to do your fighting. If you think they stand a chance against us, you are sadly mistaken." The Marshal replied with a slight smirk.

"That may be, but I think it was Duke Gelender who said, 'A band of children armed with sticks could defend a well-built city from invaders.' He was from Tenundi, right? A famous military leader, I believe."

The Marshal actually chuckled at that. "Indeed. Although it was more a statement on his ability to lead such a force to victory, given sufficient support and fortifications. Alright, let's say I agree with you. What sort of terms would you offer to appease our people? After all, this is an excellent chance to finally crush the cursed Almirans."

Looking more serious than he'd been since they'd left the city, Henry answered. "I have been given the authority to offer a few concessions. In exchange for an immediate retreat of the Tenundian forces and their allies, and a one year non-aggression pact, the Almir is prepared to offer all rights to Aletian Islands and the Helmund Plains."

While he was speaking, Mike noticed that the adjutant had started frowning. She seemed the expressive sort, so he wondered what she was upset about.

As the captain finished, Kierstan's eyebrow twitched, "An interesting proposal, but it's not nearly enough. We stand here, with a sword at your throat, and you seek to bribe us with a pittance? We are already in possession of Helmund, and once we capture the capital and crush the remaining resistance here, the Islands will soon follow. If this is the best Alexander can muster, then he really has grown rusty."

[Looks like Emmanuel was right to suppress the news of the Headmaster's death. If the Tenundians sent that assassin, I can't see why they would pretend to not know about her success, especially since he's already indirectly spoken of his information sources inside the city. This just lends credence to the theory that she belongs to another faction.]

Henry glanced at Mike, evidently ceding the floor to him, now that things had gone past the realm of casual negotiations. Bracing himself internally, and infusing a bit of mana into his voice Mike started speaking. "Marshal, I would suggest that you accept their offer. Doing so will spare you a great deal of heartache."

Nurenal looked sharply at Mike once he started speaking, probably sensing the use of mana somehow. Evidently, he didn't understand the mechanics of the usage, because he held his tongue while keeping a close eye on the younger mage.

"Ah, so the fabled Dragonknight finally speaks. Tell me. Why do you think I should accept such a paltry payment in exchange for sacrificing this once in a lifetime chance to end this war for good?" Kiertesan asked sarcastically.

Mike paused, realizing that he was at a crossroads. He'd initially planned on using the existence of the Dragonknights as a threat to bludgeon the other side into retreat, something that he realized now was as likely to fail. Trying to bully a man like the Marshal would backfire. Perhaps a simpler approach was necessary.

"Honestly, because its the best option for everyone involved. Including yourselves. You're right when you say that Almirn is defended by a ragtag bunch, but that doesn't make them any less lethal. You may eventually succeed, but it will cost lives on both sides. Lives that neither of us can afford."

This time the strategist started smiling, almost appreciatively. Her elven comrade, on the other hand, looked slightly confused.

"What are you getting at?" The Marshal asked.

"I'm sure someone as well informed as you understands the situation in Almir right now. Even if you manage to take the city, you'll have only defeated one of four factions currently vying for supremacy in this country. Once you've expended your strength against us it won't take long for them to move in, looking to take the glory for themselves. 'Avengers of Almirn' has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Mike replied casually.

"Heh, you have a low opinion of us, but," Kiertesan sighed, relaxing his rigid stance slightly, "I can't say you are wrong."

Mike felt a surge of hope. This was going better than expected. Maybe he really could work out a diplomatic solution. "Then perhaps we could discuss an agreement that will leave both parties satisfied?"

Rubbing the back of his head, the Marshal sighed again. "Its not exactly that simple..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..."

An arrogant, imperious voice called from outside of the tent. "Is this where the Almiran scum is being held? Bring them out, I want to lay eyes on them before we throw their decapitated heads over the wall."

The jangling of metal on metal filled the air, as a group of armored men swiftly moved to comply with the command.

Looking apologetic, Kiertesan shrugged, "Everyone answers to someone."

[Whelp, looks like its time for Plan C.]