Touch Of Fate 184 Unproductive Negotiations

"We're going to go out there, meet with their representatives, and see if we can't solve this diplomatically. If that doesn't work, I might be able to challenge their general to a duel." The masked man replied nonchalantly.

"Right, I can understand that, but why am I here, exactly? I'm hardly a diplomat." He found himself asking. They had already left the city walls, and were slowly approaching the Tenundian battle lines. If not for the flag of parlay he was dragging along, he suspected that the pair of them would have already been swarmed by the hostile forces.

"Marshal Emmanuel wanted a representative from the city authorities to provide legitimacy to the negotiations. With most of the civilian and military leaders.h.i.+p in turmoil following the a.s.sa.s.sination yesterday." He paused for a moment, before continuing. "I didn't have many options."

It was hard to tell under the mask, but Henry thought he heard a tinge of remorse in his last statement.

"I get that too, but I'm the most junior Captain in the City Watch. h.e.l.ls, I was only promoted two months ago. And that was mainly because the last guy died of a heart attack suddenly, and they had to scramble for a replacement. I can think of at least six other officers in my district alone that are more qualified for this. Why me?" Henry was trying and failing to calm his nerves. They were close enough to see the faces of the Tenundian sentries who were staring at them with grim looks on their faces.

"What can I say? In many ways, this is an unauthorized parlay, since the official stance of the crown is based on resistance to the invaders. I'm here as a representative of a theoretically neutral third party, but I needed someone from the city to serve as a negotiator. Someone important enough to be believable as an emissary, but also low-ranking enough to not raise suspicion of collaboration or cripple the war effort if the worst was to occur. " The Dragonknight replied casually, waving his hand as if the possibility of death wasn't much of an issue to him.

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[So it's more that I'm the most expendable of the captains. Now, that I can buy. It was probably Kendrick's idea.]

Henry had never been the most efficient, dedicated, or even effective watch officer. In fact he had spent the majority of his career avoiding work whenever possible, something which annoyed his former instructor and current District Chief Kendrick a great deal.

For some reason, the old man had seen potential in Henry, and had spent much of the last few years setting him up for success, largely against the younger man's will. Henry really only joined the Watch for the halfway decent pension that he could earn after twenty five years of service. It had been his plan to lay low and ride out his time in the most comfortable position he could find.

Unfortunately, Kendrick made sure to slot him for all of the most dangerous duties and locations, making his life one of constant danger and misery. Since he'd already signed a long-term contract, which had come with a nice bonus, Henry was stuck until he could find some way of weaseling out of the old man's grasp.

He sighed. [I really should have listened to Mom when she told me to be a cooper. Barrels are apparently where the money is, after all.]

By this point they had gotten close to the Tenundian camp. A rough palisade had been thrown up around the perimeter, with simple fences providing makes.h.i.+ft gates. They made for inauspicious fortifications, but considering that they had appeared overnight, and that most of the main army hadn't even arrived yet, it was not bad at all.

[I wouldn't be surprised if they had a hidden picket line somewhere outside the wall. One that has probably already sent word of our arrival.]

"Halt! What is your business?" A low-ranking Tenundian officer called from behind the gate. It was a little hard to tell, but Henry thought the grizzled and bearded man was a sergeant, and a pretty popular one based on how vigilant the sentries were acting around him. You could always tell the good ones by the att.i.tude of their subordinates.

He waited for a few moments, then glanced over at the Dragonknight who was supposed to be leading this little diplomatic mission, only to find the man looking expectantly at him. Or least he a.s.sumed so, since he couldn't see the youth's face.

[Of course.]

Coughing once to cover his nerves, the Captain started improvising. "Hehem, yes. We're here representing the City of Almirn in a diplomatic capacity, and would like to speak to your leaders about peaceful solutions to our current situation." He finished with his most charming smile, which apparently didn't work.

"That's all well and good, but I need a little more information than that. State your names and affiliations." He replied calmly.

"Right, well, I am Captain Henry Varnes of the Almirn City Watch, and this is…" He suddenly realized he didn't know the other man's name.

Thankfully, the youth picked up on Henry's confusion. "I am the Dragonknight Erasmus."

The soldiers at the guard picket began muttering quietly to one another. Henry distinctly heard the phrase, 'I thought he'd be taller.'

The sergeant frowned, but pulled one of his soldiers aside, whispered a quick message and sent him back into the camp, presumably to spread the word. "This is frankly above my pay grade, but in the meantime, why don't you drop any weapons you are carrying? Afterwards, we'll do a quick search just to make sure you aren't hiding anything untoward."

[s.h.i.+t. Had to find the one low-ranking guy who takes his job seriously. Well now, how does his Dragonliness want to handle this?]

Erasmus, if that was his name, seemed unperturbed. "While I can't speak for my colleague from the Watch, I came here on a mission of peace. As such, I didn't bring any weapons, or at least none that you could disarm me of."

This caused another round of consternation amongst the guards, and Henry could feel their growing tension behind the wall.

[Yes, brilliant idea. Remind them you are a powerful mage who could destroy them with a thought. That will definitely a.s.sist us in our efforts to negotiate a peaceful solution.] He kept his thoughts to himself.

Henry, for his part, had no problem tossing his sword away. He was always an abysmal swordsman, and whenever he got into fights, he would typically rely on his fists or any stout piece of wood he could get his hands on.

Once they had the appearance of being disarmed, the gate was raised and four Tenundian soldiers in grimy chainmail cautiously stepped out and surrounded the pair, spears at the ready. They were led inside the walls, and quickly directed to a nearby tent where the sergeant was already waiting for them.

After a lengthy pat down for Henry, since the guards seemed unwilling to do the same for Dragonknight, they were invited to sit on a makes.h.i.+ft bench. It wasn't comfortable, and the demeanor of the guards, who were watching them nervously with tightly gripped weapons, made it less so. Thankfully, they were focused on Erasmus, so Henry didn't have to deal with their intense gazes.

[That said, this is an untenable situation. One wrong move and both of us with be getting acquainted with the business end of a spear. I should probably try to calm them down.]

"So, Erasmus. While we are waiting, why don't we get to know each other a little better?"

The masked man tilted his head in Henry's direction, as if to ask if he was crazy.

"Let's see. What's your favorite food?" He figured that was a safe choice, so long as the man didn't answer with 'the blood of my enemies,' or something to that effect.

The Dragonknight thought for a few moments, "I don't have a favorite food, really. I've never been much of a picky eater. There are plenty of meals I miss having, though."

"Oh-ho! Some delicacies from your homeland? Tell me about them." Henry replied with an easy grin.

"Well….there is this one dish. I've actually been working on recreating here, but haven't had much luck yet. It all starts out with a flat piece of dough rolled out into a circle, then you start adding the sauce…"

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Marshal Kiertesan, commander of the Liberation Army, stalked through the tent city, scowling at the disorganized mess the advanced party had made of it. He knew General Abernathy had a reputation for laxity in camp discipline, but this was ridiculous.

Growling in disgust, he shook off the fresh layer of mud, which had acc.u.mulated on his boots since arriving in this section of the Tenundian encampment. Looking around, he realized that he didn't have a clue where he was going.

"Where in the h.e.l.ls is that G.o.ds forsaken tent? When I find that sanctimonious a.r.s.ehole, I'm going to-" He started, before cutting himself off. This was neither the time, nor the place to be losing what little was left of his cool.

The serene looking Moon Elf to his right spoke up. "I believe Sergeant Trenton was a.s.signed to the southwestern perimeter in the vicinity of checkpoint two. Based on currently established protocol, he would have moved the emissaries to the closest available guard tent to await further instruction, which should be about 300m to south by southwest from us."

Kiertesan glared at the Liberation Army's Mage Corps Commander, Nurenal. "You couldn't have said something about this sooner?"

Jiri, the Liberation Army's Head Strategist, laughed heartily, nearly dropping her notebook in the process. "Well, you did tell us to follow you. Can you blame us for believing you knew where you were going?"

"I would have, if this d.a.m.n camp was put together according to doctrine. Look at this! A d.a.m.n feed tent right next to a latrine! It's like they just put up tents wherever they fell asleep last night!" He grumbled again as he started off in the indicated direction.

Nurenal nodded seriously, "Knowing General Abernathy, it is entirely likely that he had them do just that. Considering the speed with which they set up the outer defenses, I imagine they had little time to put up their personal tents. As such, he most likely ordered them to establish their own accommodations in whatever manner would take the least effort. While I cannot speak for the general, I suspect he intends to remedy the current layout once things have settled."

Jiri chuckled, "The marshal knows that. He's just venting. It hurts his pride to look incompetent in front of his subordinates. Our duty as his staff is to nod along with his outbursts, pretend that he is making some excellent points, and then promptly forget the whole thing ever happened."

The elf nodded with a slight smile, "Ah, I see. That would explain some eccentricities I've noticed with the Marshal's behavior in the past. Very well, I will keep that in mind in the future."

[Is this really the best our country has to offer?] Kiertesan found himself asking. He knew they were just processing their anxiety in their own way. While the lack of communication from home had been troubling enough, the sudden appearance of their distinguished visitor, even under the banner of parlay, had caused some consternation.

"Alright you two, let's get serious. Don't want to leave a bad impression on one of the legendary Dragonknights do we?" He growled as they approached the guard tent.

Sergeant Trenton was waiting outside, and snapped into a textbook salute once they were close. "Sir, the emissaries are inside. I took the liberty of disarming them and keeping them under guard, but we lack the countermeasures to detain a mage…"

"Thank you, Sergeant. We'll take it from here." Kiertesan returned the salute before reaching for the tent flap. However, he froze once he heard a man with an Almiran accent speaking.

"So there I was, in nothing but my underclothes, hanging from the window sill while her husband tore the room apart looking for me. I was staying as quiet as I could manage, since one sound would leave me a stain on the pavement below, a victim of jealous rage. Unfortunately, I had to sneeze."

Another man interjected, "No way! How did you get out of it?"

"Quite simply, actually. You see, I was still carrying the ladle from our earlier misadventures. All I had to do…." The voice grew quieter as the storyteller sought build dramatic tension.

Finally getting tired of waiting, Kiertesan threw back the flap, exposing the interior.

A rakish man in a city guard's uniform was standing with one leg on a makes.h.i.+ft bench, in the middle of delivering the punchline of his story, "And I was out the door before he knew what happened. If you don't believe me, I still have the scars to prove it."

The four guards, who were huddled around listening, burst in raucous laughter. They weren't even paying attention to the masked figure standing in the corner, leaning calmly against a tent pole while watching the proceedings.

The Marshal sighed deeply. This was going to be a long day.