Chapter 411: Bargaining From a Seat of Power

I like the idea of ‘everybody wins’ if you can get that, Alexander Roth had once said.

The Thameish wizard had been sitting beside the fire talking with Drestra in the Generasians’ encampment, and the Sage had hinted at the troubles Lord Aenflynn was bringing. She’d sought advice while still keeping the negotiations with the fae lord secret.

And Alex Roth had replied: I like the idea of ‘everybody wins’ if you can get that, except monsters or assholes trying to kill you, of course. They can all go straight to every hell in all the planes for all I care. In tiny pieces would be best. But for everyone else? I like to think that if there’s another way, pick the other way. Like a third way. One of my mentors—Chancellor Baelin, who you’ll be meeting soon—always tries to get us to think our way out of problems. You’re the Sage, right? Maybe you’ll come up with another way that’s best for everybody.

The idea of a third way had set a fire in Drestra’s mind, and she’d spent months trying to find that third way.

She’d thought of summoning monsters, constructing servants or even hiring mercenaries: anything that the other Heroes could find acceptable while still meeting Lord Aenflynn’s needs.

Yet, none of her ideas had been practical.

The mercenary idea was madness born from desperation and was dead before she’d wasted too much time on it. Even if the crown was interested in spending large sums of coin to hire a small army of mercenaries, there was a big glaring, insurmountable problem with the idea: mortal mercenaries tended to be adults, mortal adults were well beyond five winters old, way too old to even try pawning off as younglings the fae lord could raise and train as soldiers for his army. She’d dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came to her, then started considering an army of summoned monsters for Aenflynn, but quickly recognised that this solution came with its own problems. One would need an entire army of wizards to maintain summoned monsters and—when the spells’ mana ran out—the creatures would abruptly vanish back to their home planes. She’d also thought about asking the Generasians to help create golems to offer to the fae lord, but if Thameland had the resources to commission an army of powerful golems, they wouldn’t need an alliance with the fae in the first place.

For a few wild nights, she’d even toyed with the idea of tricking Aenflynn into accepting something he didn’t really ask for, then binding him to it by using his word against him.

Unfortunately, no amount of desperate schemes or overthinking would have solved their problem, because in the end, Aenflynn could always turn down anything they proposed and—even if she succeeded in tricking him and gained the fae warriors they needed—they’d be fighting alongside soldiers sworn to an angry, bitter and vengeful fae lord. Who would they have to keep more of an eye on, the fae warriors fighting beside them, or dungeons full of attacking Ravener-spawn? The fae scenario had disaster and a fae blade in the back written all over it.

But now that she’d learned how to control a dungeon core, a door had opened, and it solved their problem, eliminated desperation, and gave them an edge.

Truth was, they didn’t really need Lord Aenflynn’s soldiers anymore—the fae were preferable fighters in ways Ravener-spawn couldn’t be—but the Sage could conjure an army from literally nothing, which meant unlimited numbers and the greatest tool anyone could have in a negotiation.

The ability to simply walk away.

‘If Aenflynn doesn’t like what we’re offering, he can hang,’ she thought. ‘And we’ll make our own fighters… Though, having access to the fae gates would be a big help to us, …maybe we should see what else he has to say before we walk away.’

Lord Aenflynn had been silently eyeing the Heroes for heartbeats, looking from one to the other like someone who’d been told a joke they didn’t understand.

“Sorry we couldn’t work things out?” he suddenly broke the silence. “What are you saying? You need an army to deal with your Ravener-spawn problem. You also need my fae gates to transport your troops.”

“I dunno about that, Lord Aenflynn,” Cedric said. “Y’look at these three, an’ all y’see’s jus a beginnin’, y’know. We’re masterin’ this everyday, soon we’ll be makin’ our own armies.”

“And how did you manage this?” Aenflynn asked, looking at Drestra’s bag.

“Respectfully, Lord Aenflynn, we have our secrets,” Drestra said. “As you no doubt have yours.”

His lip twitched.

“So, we get it,” Hart said. “You want something from us and we want something from you, but as you’ve said, you don’t need anything from us. And while we’d deal with you if you wanted to negotiate, these monsters are our best offer. Mortal children are completely off the table. If you don’t want what we have, that’s alright. We respect that. We’ll just go our separate ways.”

“You need my forces, these monsters cannot compare to my warriors,” the fae lord said quietly. “The brute actions of what are barely more than beasts can never match even one fae’s hundreds of years of experience.”

“True,” Drestra said. “Which is why we still want to bargain. But in the end, we can let this go.”

“That…” Lord Aenflynn’s eyes flashed.

A bolt of fear and excitement ran through Drestra.

‘You ancient beast, when was the last time someone told you they could walk away from you?’ She wondered. ‘Without insult, or dishonour…just the ability to walk away? How does it feel not holding all the power for once?’

Obviously, not good.

The fae went from throwing the Ravener-spawn a cutting look, to openly glaring at the Heroes.

“You need me,” he said. “You need my forces.”

His power flared and the cave system began to rumble.

It occurred to Drestra that holding this meeting underground might not have been the best idea. If Aenflynn wanted to bury them under a mountain of rock out of childish rage, he could, there’d be little they could do to stop him or escape.

‘Stay the course,’ she told herself. ‘If he was going to bury us, we’d already be buried.’

Or at least she hoped that was true.

“We’d like your help,” she said. “But we’re willing to do without it and use our own power.”

“So, as things stand,” Cedric added. “Y’can have loads’o monsters t’replenish yer forces—though we gots final control over ‘em—an’ we’ll take proper care o’ yer elderly fae an’ give ‘em a good life in their latter days. An’ your fae warriors can fight alongside us…or we’ll take our monsters, bid you farewell an’ part as friends.”

“Friends?” Lord Aenflynn choked. “Do you think this is a joke? Do you think you are all cute?”

“Well, my mother and father thought I was cute,” Hart said.

“Mine too,” Drestra chimed in.

“Da n’ ma thought I was downright adorable,” Cedric said.

Drestra burst into deep laughter, soon joined by Hart and Cedric. Relief. She felt relief and couldn’t help but laugh; from the moment she’d been Marked, she’d lost control of her own life. The church controlled her destiny. Uldar controlled her destiny. Aenflynn kept leading them around by the nose, and he’d been playing with them for months.

But now?

Now they could—politely—tell him to piss off with his games.

And damn did that ever feel good.

“Well I do not find you adorable,” the fae lord pronounced. “I should curse you right now and let your people wither under the tide of these monsters. But…out of kindness, I shall give you a chance. Forget this foolish counter-proposal and I will give you one moon to think things over.”

“I do not wish to waste your time, Lord Aenflynn,” Drestra said. “None of us do.”

His face was a thundercloud. “And is that your final answer?”

“Yes,” all three Heroes said as one.

“…fools.” He glanced at the Ravener-spawn then fixed them with a long glare. “Fools…impudent fools.”

She could see him struggling for control. It was like watching a child losing their favourite toys for bad behaviour, but not wanting to lose either the toys, or the bad behaviour.

‘Will your honour and pride allow you to bend?’ she wondered. ‘If you let us walk away, you’ll always know that we’ve walked away as equals: that you lost control of us. Do you want that?’

“Fifteen hundred,” the fae lord grunted.

“Pardon?” Cedric asked.

“I want fifteen hundred of these monsters.”

And there it was.

“Then we want five hundred fae warriors fighting at our side,” Drestra said.

“Hah!” Lord Aenflynn laughed. “You mortals are amusing. You asked for fifty originally!”

“Aye, but the deal’s been changed a lot since then, hasn’t it?” Cedric asked him. “So why don’t we work this out all proper-like now.”

“Fine,” they heard the fae lord say. “We will bargain in earnest.”

###

More than an hour passed. An hour of conversing, haggling, bargaining, threats to depart, negotiating, thinking, stepping aside to confer in secret and then coming back with new proposals. For a while, the fae lord was actually shouting, shaking the entire cave system with his power.

But—at last—a pact was reached.

“One hundred and twenty of your monsters, to be given once per moon in groups of thirty or more, not less. In return, you will have the service of one of my fae warriors for every three monsters you provide me.” He looked down at the rings they’d received from Elder Blodeuwedd—Drestra’s mother. “In addition, you Heroes will have full access to the fae gates, letting you cross the five highways of my realm and quickening your travels across Thameland. Your armies will have use of the same, though you will all be under fae law while travelling through the fae wild. If any of you violate our laws, you will be subject to our punishments.”

“Aye, got all that,” Cedric said. “An’ if we betray you, then you will command your fae warriors to set on us and rip us to shreds. If ya betray us, then any Ravener-spawn we’ve gifted t’ ya will make things nasty for ya. We’ll also have folk ready t’care fer yer elderly changelings in two moons’ time.”

“Fair,” Lord Aenflynn said. “Do you three swear to honour this pact on your names?”

The Heroes nodded at each other, then swore their oath.

“Excellent. Then I, Lord Aenflynn, ruler of the Realm of Och Fir Nog, will honour this oath.”

A wave of power swept the air.

The deal was done, and Drestra felt ancient magic bind the four of them.

Even as that weight fell on her shoulders, she felt another slide away.

It was done. They’d done it.

“At month’s end, we’ll deliver the first lot of monsters to you,” the Sage promised.

“Good,” Lord Aenflynn’s spirits were high. “Then, as a gesture of my good will, I will send ten of my best warriors to aid you in…anticipation of this month’s payment. They’ll find you within one day.”

“Thank you, Lord Aenflynn.” Drestra bowed her head. “Your generosity is only exceeded by your fairness.”

“Fie on that nonsense! Fie, I say!” The fae lord’s voice rose. “Fie on such empty flattery. If you meant such a thing, you would not have kept threatening to walk away from the bargaining table. And on that matter, fie on this realm,” he said, looking around the cavern. “Until we meet again, Heroes.”

“Aye, if we ever do,” Cedric said.

“Oh, we shall, Heroes of Thameland.” The fae lord’s voice boomed.

Wind swept through the cavern, woven together with the heat of summer, wetness of spring, the damp of fall, and the chill of winter. Aenflynn’s form grew until he was the size of a titan; his shadow loomed and spread over the cave’s walls, his silver eyes blazing like miniature suns.

“The path you walk now is unlike any other, and it is not one you walk alone,” his voice was thunder and flame. “Like any path that departs from the known trail through the woods, you now step into peril. Fell things watch you. Allies quake. Whispers slip through the dark. Your post is abandoned and you are wanting. Every step you walk now will bring forth doom again, and we will meet again when you see the black ichor on the chair. In your desperate hour. Farewell, Heroes of the Prophet God, walk your path toward completion. Walk your path toward doom.”

There was a peal of thunder that shook waves of stone dust from the ceiling.

Then a terrible flash of light that half blinded Drestra erupted.

She shielded her eyes against the flash and—for an instant—saw flame.

Flame that danced across a battlefield before a great escarpment.

And from atop it, the empty grin of a bleached skull smiled at her.

Soon the light faded, and with it, the images. When her eyes adjusted, the fae lord had vanished.