As Varre rode forward, leading his fifty men strong honor guard to the site of the negotiations, he took a close look at his enemies’ delegation. They pulled out all the stops.

  The two leaders stood on magnificent horses, side by side, dressed in exquisite, shiny plate. The knights surrounding them weren’t quite at the same level, nor could they even match the Royal Guard, but they must have cleaned and oiled their armors for the occasion. Even Tobias was there, glaring at the king with murder in his eyes. Alderman Fedlow too apparently, though Varre had never met him before him. Captain Hakon had to point him out.

  The rebels, united with Langogne, brought out enough flags to rival the loyalist army. They probably had to really scrounge here, asking every single knightly household to contribute their coat of arms to achieve effect. Varre didn’t have to overcompensate. His royal flag was impressive enough.

  When the king got close enough, the two enemy leaders dismounted their horses and walked forward, to a more neutral location, where they could talk face to face. Varre did the same. Only bringing his closest advisors with him.

  “It’s good to finally put a face to your enemy, isn’t it?” a balding, middle aged man asked.

  This was Clement. Nilo, who stayed behind with the Royal Guard, pointed him out as soon as the entourage got close enough to recognize people.

  “You know, I’m surprised you’ve shown up in person,” Varre mocked him, “finally brave enough to face me, now that your daddy is here to defend you?”

  The count laughed. “You’re still in a good mood! That’s great! It wouldn’t be a very fun negotiation if one side was miserable, would it?”

  The king rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Is that why you refused my offer to talk back in Elstercross? That’s the story you’re going with? I’m so sorry I made you miserable then.”

  “I told you what I wanted, on the off chance you were willing to make the deal. But I knew negotiations are pointless until we both understand our positions. I mean you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you I had allies on the way, would you?” Clement gestured at the noble on his left.

  “Would I have believed that a traitor is colluding with Langogne? Perhaps not. I thought better of you, you know? Your own son vouched for you. Wanted me to spare your life.” Varre said.

  The count looked at the honor guard standing behind their monarch. He could see Nilo there, cowering away from his father’s gaze.

  “How kind of him,” Clement mocked, “but what kind of son refuses to listen to his father? I wanted him to stay out of this conflict. Sit at home, where it was safe. You know, he’s very lucky that you’re so weak. Any other ruler would have used him as a bargaining chip a thousand times over by now.”

  “Is that all you can think about?” the king countered, “using your own supporters for your personal gain? How’s that working out for you? I seem to remember you having a much bigger army.”

  The count’s smile lowered. He glared at the monarch. “How impressive! A powerful king trouncing over one of his own subjects, with the full might of his army. Normally, you only hear of such noble, honorable deeds in fairy tales!”

  Varre almost lost his temper. “You dare speak to me of honor, you murderer? You killed dozens of innocent people! At a birthday dinner! Not to mention assassinating your own liege! Or the people who died in this senseless war you’ve started!”

  “Senseless?” Clement theatrically touched his heart. At least now Varre knew where Nilo learned his favorite gesture from, “I think independence is one of the noblest causes there is, young man. But what would you know about it? A wastrel, lucking into the highest position of power by pure coincidence!”

  The king scoffed. “What independence? You’ve dragged a foreign nation into this! You’re going to leave my kingdom just to scurry under their boot instead?”

  The count put his arm on his companion’s shoulder. “I know it might be hard to believe, but me and Duke Francois have been friends for a long time. We share our goals. And perhaps if you understood our reality a little better, we could come to an amiable agreement in the end.”

  Varre crossed his arms. “Oh, do tell. What creative excuses have you come up with to justify this blatant power grab?”

  Clement showed a mocking grin. “Tell me, my liege, do you know how long Logres has controlled your beloved Western province?”

  The king grimaced. Though the former inhabitant of this body had most likely gone through an extensive education, detailing his kingdom’s history and the exploits of his lineage, the former college student hadn’t bothered, relying on his chamberlain instead and using his ‘amnesia’ as a convenient excuse.

  He turned slightly to Benjamin, expecting the servant to whisper the answer into his ear, but the count interrupted him. “Of course you don’t. What did I expect. It was a hundred years. Your great, great grandfather took it from Langogne in a war, nearly a century ago. Why do you think they’ve been so eager to get it back?”

  “So is that it? You want to use this shallow independence excuse to return to the nation of your forefathers? How exactly is that different from just letting them conquer you? Mikkel shouldn’t have bothered defending you in the last invasion.” Varre gestured his hands in exasperation.

  The two enemy leaders exchanged glances. “Langogne hasn’t ruled this land for that much longer. They in turn, took it fifty years later.”

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  “And before that?” Varre urged them to continue, not caring for these dramatic pauses.

  “Before that,” Clement smiled, “we were an independent kingdom. The kingdom of Aubin. At least Langogne lets Francois call his lands ‘West Aubin’ after your ancestors split it in half.”

  “Alright, so you guys had a kingdom nearly two centuries ago. Great. I’m happy for you,” the king nodded in an exaggerated manner, “but how exactly is it Mikkel’s fault? You could have asked for autonomy, you could have celebrated and cultivated your culture. You didn’t need to kill innocent people!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” the count cut the air with his palm, “he’d never allow that! The only way for us to regain independence was to fracture Logres into pieces.”

  “Mhm, mhm, great. Good job. It’s nearly fractured now, thanks to your doing,” Varre mocked, “and then what? You regain your statehood, get your little East Aubin, or real Aubin, or whatever you want to call yourselves and you all merrily dance in a big circle. And then five years later Langogne comes back to gobble you up.”

  Clement smirked. “We’ll deal with that when it comes. We’ve started with me, yes, but Francois will get his independence too. It’ll just take slightly longer.”

  “And then? Will you be happy with two little Aubins prancing around or will you unite into a single kingdom again? Because if so, I’m not sure which one of you two stooges will rule it over. I sure hope you’ve found a second to think it over while scheming to kill half of my dynasty and rip Logres apart!”

  “Of course we have!” the count yelled, “it’s simple. My son, ungrateful fool he may be, but he is still my son. And Francois happens to have a daughter. With no male heir to speak of. Once the dust settles, we will arrange a royal marriage and unite the two halves of our splintered nation into a single kingdom again! As the gods intended.”

  Varre looked back to his friend. The shock on Nilo’s face proved everything. This was the first time he’s heard about this plan as well.

  “Sounds lovely. Now tell me, dear subject, why exactly should I agree to grant you this independence? Especially after everything you’ve done.”

  “Look around you Varre,” Clement gestured to the thousands of men standing hundreds of yards away, “your realm is collapsing as we speak. We’re just one problem, but now I hear you’ve got Charles knocking on the doors of your capital. It’s falling apart at the seams! Who know how many nobles will side with him and how long that war will take? And what about after? He’s not the only pretender. Maybe some other aristocrat will use this opportunity to demand independence, or greater privileges, or who knows what else? What will you give up to keep your head on your shoulders, huh? Not to mention some scraps of your realm?”

  The king raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly would me granting you independence help with that?”

  The count smirked. “That’s not a cheap price, I’ll admit, but it’ll help save your nation. Here’s what I want. Give me independence and once the dust settles, and we both had the time to recover our strengths, help me in my schemes against Langogne. Don’t forget that they are your greatest threat and rival. You’ll be killing two birds with one stone if we manage to wrestle West Aubin from their clutches!”

  “And in exchange?”

  Clement was growing in excitement, hoping that his scheme was working. “We’ll support you against Charles! My army will march with you, and so will Francois’ if you so wish. Though we both know that having Langogne’s soldiers on your side will look… bad. The nobility won’t understand the truth. We will dress Francois’ men in my uniforms or use their weapons and equipment to draft new peasants. Don’t forget we’re the same peoples! We speak the same language, have the same customs… no one will know they’re from West Aubin!”

  “That’s a high price. And victory is far from guaranteed,” Varre countered.

  The count frowned slightly. “I hope we can end today as friends, but don’t forget your current situation. You are surrounded. On all sides. If you do not want me as your ally, then you’ll have me as your enemy. And I will be forced to destroy you. I’m afraid that leaves you with two options my friend. Either grant me independence and save your kingdom, or stubbornly refuse and die here. I think we both now which is the right choice.”

  The king took a second to think it over, but he had already made his decision before even coming here. “You murdered my uncle, Clement. And not only that, plenty of other innocent people. You’ve split my nation into pieces, wasted innocent lives, caused a war that costed tens of thousands of thalars, and that’s just in the first couple of months, and now you think I will help a traitor like you? Even if I somehow wasn’t disgusted by you enough, I know you’d stab me in the back the second it was worth it. And I’ll tell you the same, Francois, this man is not your friend. The only one he serves is himself, and he’d throw you to the wolves just as easily as he threw his own liege!”

  Clement slowly shook his head. “You’ve made a mistake Varre. A terrible one. But, I suppose I expected too much from you. There’s no negotiating with fools in the end,” he turned to look at his heir, “I know he blinded you son, with whatever false promises he gave you, but I am not mad. Come back to me, and things will be alright again.”

  Nilo didn’t look at him. He kept staring off into the distance.

  “We’re done here,” Varre interrupted, “I look forward to crushing you once and for all.”

  Clement exchanged looks with Francois and both laughed, before they returning to their mounts.

  “Good bye, Varre I,” the count threw his parting words as he walked away, “I’ll make sure that my historians record the real you after today.”

  Fortunately, neither side was willing to risk their lives by having their honor guards duel here, in a last minute attempt to capture the enemy commanders. Varre was confident that each of his Royal Guardsmen was stronger than the average enemy knight, but he wasn’t sure if he could get away unscathed, before having fully finished his training.

  Instead, he returned to the hilltop, where his army remained in formation. Clement would doubtlessly order an attack soon, but the loyalists still had some time to reorganize and prepare. The commanders quickly surrounded their leader to come up with a final strategy to resist the coming attack.

  “The hill helps,” Jan began, “but it’s not that steep. The enemy will need to be careful, but they won’t exhaust themselves climbing up.”

  “Do we know how they distributed their forces?” Varre asked.

  “Pretty evenly,” Gregory replied, “they split into four lines, around a thousand men each. The knights seem to be evenly distributed too, leading the center of each formation.”

  “They’ll take their time,” the senior commander predicted, “they’ll slowly walk up, staying in formation on each side and lock us here. Our men will be panicking and we’ll have trouble maneuvering them in and out of combat, in case anyone gets too exhausted. They’ll be slowly whittling us down, pushing us into an ever tighter square.”

  “Maybe they’re hoping we’ll change our minds and surrender,” the baron suggested, “but I’d rather die than join those traitors! You were right to refuse them, your majesty.”

  “I didn’t reject his offer only to come crawling back now,” Varre frowned, “there will be no deals.”

  “We will fight with you to the end, your majesty,” Jan bowed, “but I’ll admit, it doesn’t look pretty.”

  “What do you mean, commander?” the king smiled, “who cares if they’ve got a couple hundred more people, and managed to surround us. We’ve finally got them right where we want them! We tricked them into a battle in an open field. Benjamin, go and tell the servants to prepare some wine barrels! This rebellion ends today.”

  He wanted to weaken Logres, achieve independence, and restore the kingdom of his ancestors.

  Now, he reveals everything, hoping the king will agree in exchange for the rebels' support in the civil war.