The time moved extremely slowly. Or rather, it was my perception that accelerated, slowing down my experience of reality.
Maybe that's why the time it took the emissaries to react to the flower and my words stretched out so painfully long.
"This is..."
One of the other riders, a relatively young man with streaks of silk-like, golden hair peeking out of his rudimentary, worn-off helmet muttered as he peeked inside the box.
Leinei's flowers were all fresh, magically grown by the dryad and the help she enlisted amidst her kind. Picked just before we all went off to the battle, and thus still fresh and fragrant in spite of all the stench that battlefield was full of.
The odor of excrement, vomit, and drying blood mixed with sharper hues of smoke and the sickening aroma of burning flesh. And in this mist of this revolting mist of smells, those delicate-looking flowers created an oasis of a delicate, slightly citrusy fragrance.
A lovely scent that stretched all the way from the four emissaries to where I stood my ground.
"..."
Still, regardless of the impact the sight and smell of this flower had on them, they were taking their damn time to respond!
'Are they trying to stall?' I thought, a single muscle twitching on my face, on the left slope of my nose.
Up until now, everything was going more or less how I desired or outright designed to happen. And only now, for the very first time since my life took an abrupt turn...
I was enlightened to how little I could do if the emissaries opted to escalate the situation, regardless of all my efforts and desires.
To a degree, I kept my position flexible. I was willing to go to great lengths to turn today into the bloodiest day of the entire conflict... But with the hopes that everyone spilled enough blood to stop the rest of the war from happening.
'If things go as I want, this might really happen...'
My fists tightened as my eyelids halfway down my eyes.
I kept my head still and turned my eyes to the young man with golden hair whom I noticed before.
"And I've said it already, this war isn't about this flower at all," I shrugged my shoulders, "so if I let you go now, you will simply come back once your allies arrive."
As I spoke, my face turned so that by the time I finished, I was looking right into the golden-haired man's face... Or rather, his eyes, given how most of his looks were covered behind his worn-out helmet.
"Who do you think you are...!"
Finally, some reaction.
Seeing me address the actual leader of the emissaries, the man who assumed that role riled me up.
'A bodyguard...? No... Perhaps... a butler?'
I rushed to find a relationship pattern that would fit this habitual reaction.
'In their eyes, I'm someone lesser, not equal to their leader to speak to him directly. That means a class society, likely,' I threw my eyes to the side for but a moment, giving the human outfits a quick glance. 'Likely, something along the feudal lines?'
This army was supposed to consist mostly of mercenaries. And yet, I could see some semblance of peasant levies with just a single, short look.
"That's enough," the young man spoke for the second time. His voice was calm and collected as if he was discussing philosophy in some sort of university rather than standing amidst blood and crap, discussing terms for ending the battle. "You did enough, Dennis," the young man spoke again before throwing his leg over the back of his horse and, to the horror of his retainers, jumping down.
The young man's feet dove into the bloodied mud of the area, dirt and filth instantly assaulting the gaps in his light plate armor, dirtying whatever expensive trousers he had underneath. The man didn't spare even a glance at the state of his feet, keeping his head straight and eyes locked on my face as he took a few steps ahead.
Then, to the shock of his troops and equal surprise of the forest protectors, he lowered his head.
"Allow me to apologize for this small trick," the young man spoke with his head down, only to reach up and pull his helmet off as he straightened his back, revealing the one hell of an idol-like face. "I'm Claudy Moretto, the acting leader of the mercenary guild," the young man lowered his eyes as he introduced himself before raising them back up and drilling them into my face.
"And I had no other choice but to check if I am to deal with the civilized person before talking any terms."