Chapter 295: Petitions

That same afternoon, two riders crossed at the stone marker dividing the two frontiers.

Neither dismounted.

The man from Aethelgard carried Eadric’s seal. The man from Valoria carried Aurelian’s. They traded the letters without a word, read them by the light of a fire-starter, and burned them there and then in the hollow of a gloved hand.

The alliance was sealed.

They could not make use of the savages for their ends. The envoys had been lost on a road that now led nowhere, and the forest stayed shut. But that did not mean anything had to change.

The war was scheduled.

Each realm would begin its preparations and wait for the other. At the first joint signal, both armies would march from the north and come down on Golden Rose from two fronts, until it was wiped from the map.

The riders parted without farewell.

At the marker they left two galloping horses and the smoke of two letters.

And on no paper, in either realm, did a single word appear about the people of the forest.

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In the Golden Rose Kingdom the audience chamber was closed to the public and lit with too many candles.

King Maximilian occupied the throne with one hand loose on the armrest and the other closed upon his thigh. His hair was white and his face was that of a man with nothing left to prove.

At his right, motionless, Beatrix Le Croix. At his left, Count Gideon, mask on, his one hand inside his sleeve. The left arm hung empty, pinned up to the shoulder with a bronze clasp. The healers had not been able to give it back with potions, and since entering he had not taken his eyes off Caelen and Tari.

Grand General Julian Montfort stood by the table. The elder Eldridge Granville had ordered a chair brought and occupied it with his head low. Rokk the dwarf had soot on his boots and had not troubled to clean them. Leander St. Clair wore his signet on his little finger and a gold chain worth more than a minor noble’s house.

Along the wall, in file, six general commanders of corps.

Caelen entered and knelt. Half a step behind him, at his side, came Tari with his arm in a sling and his face crossed by three bandages.

"Majesty," said Caelen. "I come from the forest."

"Rise," said King Maximilian.

Caelen rose.

"Majesty, there is a report," said Caelen. "And there is a part of it that must be heard here."

Tari stepped forward. He opened his shirt with his good hand. His chest was crossed side to side, stitched with coarse thread.

"The report is mine," said Tari, his voice hoarse. "And this was done to me by the shaman’s white beast. Count Gideon said in his account that he came within inches of killing it."

Gideon did not move.

"And did I not say it?" asked Gideon.

"You said it," said Tari. "And there is no way. I had to run to save my skin. If he could come within inches of killing it, she would not have left me like this."

"False information, majesty," said Tari. "He marched us to the slaughter with our eyes bound."

Gideon pulled his hand from his sleeve and pointed at the empty shoulder.

"Is this false?" asked Gideon. "I lost the arm in that yard. The healers cannot give it back with potions because there is no stump left to stitch. If that is not proof of loyalty, I do not know what is."

"Loyalty is not the same as aim," said Tari.

"And I said what I saw," said Gideon, and his voice went hard. "I had it at a hand’s breadth. I got in one cut. That the envoy is softer than I am is not my fault."

Tari stepped in and seized him by the collar.

"Softer?" asked Tari.

"Softer," said Gideon.

Gideon sought the prince with his eyes, waiting for support. Caelen said nothing.

"Sit down, both of you," said King Maximilian.

They let go. Tari settled his sling with a shaking hand and Gideon returned to his place against the wall.

"Continue, Caelen," said King Maximilian.

Caelen drew breath, composed himself, and jerked his chin at the door. Four bearers came in with four chests and lined them on the floor before the throne, lids still shut.

"The shaman of the tribe sends these as a gift," said Caelen.

"Open them," said King Maximilian.

The guards lifted the lids.

Four heads. Evander Ellington’s still had its mouth open.

No one cried out. An old man of the court pressed a hand to his chest and said nothing.

"Ellington," said Grand General Montfort, and bent to look closer. "And Benoit. And these two are Valorian."

"All four were taken alive," said Count Gideon, from the wall. "I saw them in the yard. They cut their throats in front of us at dawn, in a single pass. Then they sent us off with the heads."

"Why in a single pass?" asked Beatrix Le Croix.

"So that we would tell how," said Gideon.

Rokk laughed through his nose.

"And we are telling how," said Rokk.

"There is more," said Caelen, and drew out the silk cloth. "The treaty. Signed in blood."

He spread it. King Maximilian did not take it. He gestured, and Beatrix carried it to him, read it standing, and returned it to his ear.

"Three points, majesty," said Beatrix. "Public recognition as sole legitimate sovereign of all forests south of the border. A hundred-year non-aggression treaty, with free passage of their people on our roads. And a permanent seat on the Council of Elders."

The commanders along the wall shifted like a single animal.

"A savage on the Council," said one of them.

"A savage seated with us," said another. "With voice and vote."

"With voice and vote," confirmed Beatrix.

King Maximilian said nothing. He looked at Caelen.

"Speak," said King Maximilian.

Caelen set his jaw.

"Majesty, the forest is not a nuisance. It is a gate," said Caelen. "Three years we have tried to cross it. The shaman shut it in a week and cut the throats of four men in his own yard. If we let it be a kingdom, we have peace in the south for a hundred years and our hands free to look north."