Chapter 42: Diplomacy & Disconnects

Roxy:

The first sign of the Baron’s impending arrival was the long braying cry of horns and trumpets rising up, bouncing off the surrounding mountains and jarring us out of our waiting fugue. Startled and jumping up and away from where she had been burrowing into my coat, Aisling landed in a crouch, ears flat against her hair and closed to the noise, with tail fur bristling before she straightened up to stand beside me.

And she wasn’t the only one, around us the Duchal party could be seen neatening uniforms and hair that had given way to wind, restlessness and entropy in our wait.

The second sign of the Baron’s arrival was clang of war-shod hooves on stone and the metallic jangle of armor echoing off and out of the stone walls of the western pass. Already present tension continued to build like a rising seatide as we waited for the Baron’s party to come into sight. Tension not helped by the quiet snick of the Duchal Honour Guard preemptively testing and loosening swords in their sheathes.

Tension relieved with released breaths as the Baron’s party emerged from the pass and not a vanguard preparing the way for a fresh assault on the city and the embassy standing in the valley outside it. Gloriously cinematic, I could already tell my recordings were sure to go viral in CORA circles on the FTLN once I uploaded them.

Roughly matching our numbers, I began discretely photographing the approaching embassy via my HUD as they grew closer and noting down their composition. Arrayed around the party was a mounted honour guard of ten wearing Rusty Venetian Red that was presumably the colours of House Redwood. Riding in the middle of the formation were five who were more richly dressed and armored and exuding with posture and bearing a mix of confidence, command and varying degrees of arrogance. 

Trailing at the rear in mix matched armor and gear was what could only be our counterparts, Blessed. 

Other players.

Dismounting bare meters from the other side of the pavilion the guards parted to open a path for noble masters who proceeded forth to come under the pavilion’s shade and take their seats at the negotiating table.

“A flag of parley, Cerys? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to surrender the city peacefully?” taunted a man in red silk and mirror polished armor. Taunted to the amusement of players standing back with the honor guard if their smirks said anything.

“Come to my senses, Owain?” the Duchess parroted, her tone smooth and deadly as a silk noose. “In a manner of speaking perhaps… Certain events have come to remind me of the importance of a strong united Duchy. Is that still your motivation? To oust a foreign and purportedly adulterating Duchess? To seize control in order to stabilize and protect the Duchy before our neighbours can swoop in like vultures to claim their piece of our collective carcass?”

“Or is that just words and you are led by the baser motivations of a lesser man ruled by selfish ambition?” she smirked.

Damn… Wow. I just remembered why I was originally scared of her. If scary dominant women were my thing I’d be down on my knees in worship right now.

There was a redness growing on the baron’s face but it was not arousal. Not with shaking in his fists or the look of fury he was shooting her.

“Are you doubting my honor?” And there it is, he rose to the bait. “My dedication to the land my ancestors and I have fought to defend? My loyalty to your late husband, the same husband you betrayed your marriage vows to and cuckolded? Damn you women, I wouldn’t be fighting and spilling the blood of my countrymen if I didn’t fear the greater blood our collective enemies would spill.”

A silence followed Redwood’s incensed words that was filled by a single satisfied word.

“Good.”

Expressions worn on multiple faces in the Redwood entourage froze as the minds behind them short circuited. Eyes blinked rapidly reflecting brains rebooting. Processing power for facial muscle control was diverted under the computational load leading to slack jaws and dazed expressions.

“Good?” he almost choked out, coughed up like blood from a fatal wound.

“Yes, good.” Verbally twisting the sword in the wound. “Because it means then that I was right to call for a parley. Because outlanders are already spilling the Duchy’s blood and have been from the very start beginning with my husband whom they killed and the lies they spread to weaken and tear us apart.”

“Cerys—” He attempted to interject, plead even, but she continued her warmarch over the top of his words.

“And that is not mentioning the more imminent crisis of the armies landing on our eastern shore at this moment reinforcing their puppet Baron Haverhill.”

Standing a couple meters behind her I couldn’t see her face to know what she was emoting, but looking at the baron across from her I had to imagine it was something along the lines of gloating and challenging.

Releasing frustration via a long sigh, Redwood paused to compose himself and take a deep breath. 

“Yes, I can see the urgency that would lead you to call for a parlay if your words are in fact truth,” put Owain extremely diplomatically in the face of the verbal rout he had endured, before launching a desperate counter offensive. “Likewise I could also see this being a desperate ploy to buy time for your allies to reach us and reinforce you or break my siege.”

“So, forgive me for asking if you have the evidence to back these claims before I decide whether or not to allow you any more of my patience.”

The Duchess’ shoulders lifted and fell as she moved her clasped hands from her lap and onto the table as she leant forward.

“Well, then I guess we are fortunate then that Lord Haverhill is fool enough to keep record of his treasonous correspondences with Pagutum and not destroy them.” I could only imagine the smirk she would be wearing. “Baronet Elixatmael, if you would?”

Baronet? Aisling perked up beside me, tail swishing to bat against my legs, in mirrored pleasant surprise. 

I guess she had gone through with the collar she had teased as a reward for her genderqueer lothario. 

Taking their cue, El stepped forward and bowed with a smooth “Of course your Grace,” filled by a curt “Lord.” 

Glancing towards the androgynous swashbuckler, Redwood turned his gaze back towards the Duchess with a raised eyebrow. “Your dalliance?” he asked with an unspoken really at the end.

Even standing outside the action it was clear that as much as every word was a thrust, parry or repoist, so too was every bit of body language or facial expressions the footwork of the duel. Intentions, flinches and concessions displayed.

“My spy. My best spy,” she replied, affecting a dispassionate and disinterested tone. Her voice conveying the very image of eyes being rolled. “One who successfully infiltrated both your allies at Brightspring and helped deliver me your plans for the siege and your allies in my city, but also your warcamp during your march here.”

Smoothly strutting forward, El walked around to stand at the side of the table facing both parties with their hands clasped behind their back..

“If I may continue. After returning from my infiltration of the war camp and delivering home intelligence on the numbers, composition, command, morale and supplies of Redwood’s host I was dispatched to the Barony of Haverhill. Following previous suspicions concerning Haverhill’s loyalties and forces beyond his means, I led one of two investigative parties.”

“My team's mission was the infiltration of Castle Haverhill in Port Marchnad in order to search the Lord’s study for any evidence of treason or conspiracy. Thankfully the fool believed a locked room and locked desk drawer was sufficient security,” El mocked, letting out a laugh. “A strongroom with a vault door might have taken me a little longer to break into and given the extent of what we discovered in said drawer, I decided breaking into his strongroom would have been hardly worth the additional effort.”

Unclasping their hands, El lifted their right hand in front of them. Then with a showman-like flick of their wrist, their hand was suddenly full of previously folded and unfolded parchment.

“In said correspondence we have clear evidence of conspiracy predating the civil war. Evidence documenting the plot to assassinate Duke Blaiddcalon and after the discovery of the Duchesses’ pregnancy discredit her fidelity and the legitimacy of the unborn heir she carried in order to spark a war of succession. Destabilizing the Duchy and allowing for an invasion by stealth by Pagutum via their proxy Baron Haverhill. The evidence is all here for you to read and authenticate,” Elixatmael finished off placing the pile of letters onto the table.

“Thank you, Baronet,” voiced the Duchess as she turned to give them a look of gratitude. “That will be all.”

Not waiting for the spy to move the Redwood delegation began reading over the pilfered correspondances, one of his companions muttering and casting authentication spells summoning up ghostly echoes of a crimson clad man penning them.

Tension lifted as the embassy poured over the letters and talked amongst each other in whispers. Looking around spotted our opposites standing looking bored and somehow far less enthused than they’d been on arrival. No idea why given the exciting lore, power plays and diplomatic jousting occuring in front of us.

Turning my attention back to our own side, I noticed the smirk El was wearing and the smug almost predatory look in the Darkling’s eyes as they watched the Redwoods pour over their contribution. Next them was Gael in her maid uniform making a show looking far more harmless than she would usually look in it. So harmless I found myself wondering how many extra knives she had concealed on her just in case.

Glancing down to my otherside I checked in on Aisling and found her restlessly tapping foot as she fought off the sleep deprivation and exhaustion that was besieging her, her interest in seeing this done powering her. My eyes were already moving to look back towards the front when my exhausted brain decided to play tricks on me and Aisling seemed to flicker in and out beside me.

Before I could think much further on it, I was called forward to give account of our journey east and the invasion. 

Starting with the fires and smoke we saw from above flying east, I described our landing in the forest, the accounts of the refugees and freedom fighters, the described accents and the night raid on the camp.

Following that I fast forwarded to our arrival at Port Marchnad and what we saw there, making contact with the underground resistance, the reports from the resistance’s information network and the two planned investigation missions. 

Then finally our arrival at cove in time for the beach landing, our attempted defense, our flight back to the city and our summoning back to Santarriral.

“In addition I have some material evidence to submit, if I may?”

Receiving a nod from the Duchess, I tugged on the necromantic leash connecting my mind to my new pets and called Sergeant Bootlicker of Haverhill and Sir Warcrimes of Pagutum shambling down from where they were waiting just outside the city gates.

“I present the corpses of the officer in charge of Haverhill’s invasion welcome party and the commander of the first wave of Pagutum invaders. They are not the entirety of the body of evidence I wish to present, they are also carrying a fresh correspondence for Baron Haverhill from Pagutum and letters of writ from the Baron granting the invasion force a level of authority and authenticity from Haverhill and orders to swap out their colours for his brown.”

Tugging on the leash again, I had my pets draw the mentioned letters and orders from their coat pockets and place them on the table for inspection. Waiting a half minute longer to let the delegation inspect the zombies, I dispatched the pair downwind of us. Ruin’s blessing only goes so far when it comes to delaying decay.