Chapter 377: ARC 6-Winter War-71

I thought the dinner table was tense before but it can’t be compared to the heavy air weighing down the room as Alana and I take our seats. Two more places are filled. Yulia has joined us but she doesn’t look happy about it, lovely face slightly pale as she sits with her shoulders hunched and her hands in her lap beside her brother. She doesn’t look up as we walk in.

The second new face is somewhat recognizable. Not his features. The wide nose, short blonde hair, thick lips, and dark eyes don’t spark any recognition but his manner does. His finery and his perfectly crafted smile are very familiar. This is a man comfortable in the realm of politicking. He anticipates a war of words and likes his chances. Unlike the rest of the table, he does look up as the three of us enter. His smile remains in place but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

The sound of the servants serving dinner somehow brings to mind sharp-eyed brigands sharpening swords. Everyone ignores the small bowls of soup before them as Kalise stands. From the muted surprise on Eleanor’s face, I take it this is not a usual occurrence.

“Alright, listen up, all ya! Some of you have been playing games. I don’t know what was slipped into the water to make heirs of Victory suddenly go simple but since you two—" She pauses to point her cup of wine at Zachariah and Alana in turn, “—want to act like squabbling children, I’ll play mama cat and shovel your shit.”

She takes a long drink of her wine before slamming the cup down. “Ancestors, this stuff tastes like rotten garbage now. To the point. You!” She points to me. “You killed a man on my grass. Er, snow. Abyss cursed snow. Sit down!”

Alana flinches at the shout and reverses her attempt to stand.

“What sunshine kitten wants to yowl about is the fact that the corpse coloring the snow with his blood challenged her bannerwoman. Which gave you every right to knock his head off. But just because you have the right, doesn’t mean you have to shower blood wherever you please. We built a killing field, just for this. You couldn’t walk a few strides and do the thing properly? Huh? Are you the children of an ancestors blessed high noble or feckin animals?!”

Alana doesn’t hang her head despite the scolding. She maintains a stoic frown as she tonelessly says, “I understand my failing. It won’t happen again.”

“Ha! Damn right it won’t. Because we’re about to get this all settled. Starting with you.” Her dark eyes move to Zachariah. “Someone taught those outsiders a sacred tradition. Don’t insult yourself and this family by making me ask. Stand and explain yourself.”

The favored heir stands, appearing unbothered by being called upon. “The hunters threatened to leave lest we exile Alana’s bannerwoman. The elf declared her house worth more than all of them. I decided to let them prove the validity of those words. If they won the challenges, they are of greater worth to Victory and I would have dismissed the hunters. If they lost, the problem would have solved itself. I personally hoped for the hunters to realize how stupid they were being after a couple of deaths. The campaign needs as many bodies as it can get.”

Kalise tsked then looked to her husband. The whole table looks toward the duke, slowly spooning soup. After two swallows, he speaks. “Accepted.” He turns his cold blue eyes to his son. “Yet sloppy. You are not a simple knight of Victory. You may be its leader one day. Appearance matters as much as results. Reflect.”

“You get that, you reckless, stoneheaded fool?”

Zachariah grits his teeth.

“Zachariah,” his mother says tersely.

The tension in his features relaxes. “I see my failing.”

“Do you?” his father asks. But before his son can answer, he commands, “Sit.” Once he does, he nods toward Kalise, a silent command to continue.

“Your word’s not worth much here but you’re here to make sure there’s no confusion. Go on. Tell your side.”

The pudgy, well-dressed man who reeks of capital hobnobbing hesitates, clearly unused to the blunt way of discussion in the James family, but takes his cue to stand quick enough. He clears his throat. “Thank you for inviting me into your home, Your Grace.” He bows his head toward the duke. “I apologize if we have offended you or your house in any way. Unfortunately, circumstances—"

“We gave you the right to speak at our table,” Eleanor interrupts, her voice softer than his own but cutting through the man’s words like a sword through soft flesh. “Not waste our time.”

He pauses, gauging the room. Then his next words come twice as fast. “Lourianne Tome and her family have committed unforgivable acts against the guilds. They have been labeled a threat. We do not stop until threats are put down.”

Kalise snorts. “Don’t joke. Quest doesn’t have vows of blood. This is your last chance. Can the guilds only be pacified with death?”

The man stiffens. Then slowly, almost reluctantly, he says, “Conflicts have also been settled through appropriate compensation but I cannot fathom what a low noble could offer to erase the loss of a guildmaster and multiple hunters.”

“Well you won’t know without asking, will you?” The barbarian shakes her head. “There you have it, Greenie. You and that cocky cat. Last chance. You can handle this without blood.”

Kierra’s chuckle is soft and filled with dark humor. “Oh, but I enjoy bloodshed.”

“I’m not paying a bunch of petty criminals a crown,” I add.

The man, the representative of the hunters, opens his mouth to respond but Kalise slaps a thigh and speaks over him. “Good! I would have been ruffled if you stoneheads made all this fuss then stepped back like a bunch of cowards. What started in blood ends in blood.” She looks to the duke and he nods. She smiles big and wide.

“Then there’s only one way to settle this. A March.”

“Kalise!” Alana shouts, jumping to her feet. “You cannot be serious!”

“Sit down.”

Alana stiffens under her father’s command. Her face is full of confliction but she sits, hands balled into fists.

“Explain what a March is to your bannerwoman.”

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I take a deep breath as Alana turns toward me and remind myself that her family is off-limits. “A March to the Ancestors is…another form of the right of challenge. It encompasses entire houses or orders rather than individuals. The same rules apply. It is war, to the last man. The winner claims everything of the loser. There is no retreat. There is no mercy.”

There is a small lapse in conversation as another course is served. The barbarian continues to ignore her food. “The challengers are the hunters of Quest!” Kalise says, her voice rising with excitement. “The defenders are the Tome clan. This is how this is going to work. In three days, your groups will meet each other in the killing field—"

“Please call it by its proper name,” Eleanor interrupts.

“Fecking…your groups will meet at the Witness Circle. You will fight, drowning rules. For all of you that don’t know what that means, I’ll explain. Each side picks a champion. They fight. The loser is tossed from the field and their clan picks a new champion. The winner decides if they want to fight again or elects another fighter from their clan to take their place. Again and again, until only one clan remains.” Her smile turns feral. “Until one side is drowned in death.”

The representative from the hunters looks disturbed but quickly says, “We are happy to oblige these rules.” And why wouldn’t he be? They have over a hundred potential fighters. If half of them commit to this slog, they’ll have ten times our number, even if I count Bell and Geneva as separate fighters. The bastard has the audacity to smile at me.

Alana looks ready to explode. I’m amazed she manages to speak with an even tone. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is the path your bannerwoman and her clan has chosen,” Kalise counters.

“Well, they aren’t getting much choice, are they?”

“Alana.”

“No, Father.” I smother a smile as she gets to her feet. “This is utterly ridiculous. My brother manipulates the laws of Victory to smother my forces and you reward this by making my people fight an army? At the very least, concessions need to be made or this is no challenge, but an execution.”

“You speak out of turn,” Eleanor says.

Alana’s smooth features scrunch up in an impressive sneer. “Fuck you.”

I almost applaud. Or laugh. Eleanor’s muted surprise and her son’s much more obvious shock are hilarious. Yulia, who has been doing her best to go unnoticed, looks up, mouth gaping. Kierra doesn’t hold back, snickering quietly. Kalise is even less reserved, guffawing loudly. She holds the back of her chair to keep upright as she doubles over with laughter.

“Your stance has been made,” Duke James says, showing no sign that her outburst upset him. “There will be no concessions. Your bannerwoman did not have to fight. You could have petitioned me to judge the validity of the challenge. Instead, you spilled blood. Blood demands blood. You will see your decision through to the end or you will accept the consequences if you don’t.”

Alana looks ready to stab someone but she sits down. I grab her hand and massage her palm. Her vicious frown eases a fraction but it doesn’t disappear.

Kalise wipes her teary eyes with a finger. “Looks like the Hall sharpened the youngest kitten’s claws.” Her smile fades. “But no, there will be no concessions. The risk is great but so is the reward, like all things. Wait to hear the rest before you throw a fit.”

My future saint is far from mollified but she relaxes, indicating that she’s listening.

“Since both groups used our tradition without bothering to understand it, let me make what’s going to happen as clear as a creek.” She points at the hunter. “When someone pledges to a banner, they renounce their family to join the family under their bannerlord, or in this case, bannerlady. That means the rest of the Tomes aren’t involved in this. If you win, the guilds are entitled to everything she owns and this will be enforced by Victory. Ah, don’t get any ideas about Greenie over there. She married into the Tome family so you have no claim on her previous clan.”

“It would have been delightful to watch you try,” Kierra adds.

The hunter is too proper to scoff but I can tell he wants to. “We aren’t interested in her possessions, only in justice.”

“Ah, I should point out something obvious. You don’t have any claim on the James’ assets, despite the Tome girl being pledged to her, but Alana does wager all of her personal wealth. Can’t have James losing their lives on random challenges. That is what you get if you win.

“Should the Tome clan win, then the opposite applies. Your guild is your clan. Therefore, if any fighter from a guild participates, the Tome clan will own everything of that guild.”

The hunter sputters. I can’t blame him. I’m just as surprised. “What?! That is…you cannot be serious!”

It’s Kalise’s turn to sneer. “Did you think those words you spoke were a joke? You are the ones who thoughtlessly used traditions you don’t understand. You wagered everything you are. This mess is all because of the bond between a hunter and a guild. You’ve made it clear that one of you is all of you. So, you wagered your guild. We will enforce the resolution of the challenge, with force.”

If I understand this right, if we fight all these hunters and win, we are entitled to everything owned by any guild that participates. Not only that, Victory will enforce this. She’s saying they will march on Quest. Saints protect us, I foresee that causing so many catastrophic problems, the thought is a little sickening. And so very exciting. At the very least, that is a lot of wealth.

“I…I cannot agree to this.”

“What’s the matter? You outnumber them fifty to one and you’re scared?”

“This has nothing to do with fear! I can’t accept a bargain like this, for any reason. I don’t have the authority.”

“Too bad, because you already have. Teach you to feck around with sacred rites. The challenge has been issued. Either you follow through and drown your enemies in blood, theirs or yours heh, or you run away and the guilds will forever be banned from Victory.” Her eyes move to me. “Same to you. You can run but you can never come back. Three days. Make your choice.”

Though her voice has no room for argument, she is not the lord of Victory. All eyes turn to the duke. There is desperation, disbelief, resignation, and anticipation in our many gazes. None of it is reflected in his blank expression. There is a heavy beat of silence before he seals the fate of hundreds of people. “Accepted.”

 

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