Chapter 265: The Envoys’ Arrogance

While the shamanic council meeting took place in the longhouse, on the opposite end of the settlement, the delegation from Aethelgard convened in the privacy of their quarters within the lakeside estate.

"My Lord, what do you make of the situation with these savages?" asked Benoit, a servant adjusting the folds of his master’s attire.

Evander Ellington, a man with a trimmed beard, brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and clad in a blue silk suit with gold embroidery, smirked as he gazed at the landscape through the window.

"They are nothing more than a pack of barbarians," answered Evander disdainfully. "The moment we spoke to them of riches and territory, they walked right into our trap."

"It is guaranteed that with the strategy you presented to His Majesty, we shall secure enough merit to be elevated to marquesses," commented Benoit with a bow.

"I hope so, Benoit," admitted Evander, crossing his arms over his chest. "Our Ellington family has been stagnant for generations. I must secure contributions of magnitude this time. My father always said that wars are the stage to rise among the nobility."

"Lord Ellington was a patriarch, my Lord," added Benoit. "Yet you, Count Evander Ellington, will lead our house to become far more than marquesses. Should our merits assist the King in seizing the Golden Rose Realm, they will grant you a duchy, allowing you to expand your territory by claiming part of the Kingdom itself. Your descendants will remember you as the Great Conqueror."

Evander was dreaming of that future. This entire plan had been a masterstroke on his part. Thanks to his family maintaining a spy embedded within the army that had marched under Prince Caelen, they had acquired intelligence regarding the defeat of the Golden Rose forces. They possessed an estimate of the tribe’s might, and Evander had gone before the King of Aethelgard to propose a strategy: utilize the tribe of savages—who possessed weaponry—to distract and exhaust the enemy legions in the south.

If they could force the tribe to absorb the frontal clash, the northern forces could advance unhindered. The only element Evander had failed to foresee was his King informing the Kingdom of Valoria and opting for a joint invasion to wipe out the Golden Rose once and for all.

"What ought we to do now, Master?" asked the servant with unease. "Shall we wait patiently for those savages’ response? I must confess, I have felt a sensation since we set foot in this place... I have a bad feeling that we are being watched."

"You are paranoid, Benoit," scoffed Evander, waving a dismissive hand. "I brought along the Black Wolf Knights, the elite guard my father raised for years. Should these savages attempt anything, I would not mind showing them their end."

"Yet my Lord... what of those weapons mentioned by the spies?" pressed the servant. "Those powerful explosives?"

"Do you believe they would dare use them within their own settlement?" laughed Evander, adjusting his silk cuffs. "Such weapons are only useful when defending a position. They have opened the gates of their village to us. They would never dare detonate such things inside their own territory."

"You are wise, my Lord," conceded Benoit, bowing his head.

At that moment, two knocks echoed against the main door. The feast promised by the tribe had arrived.

Evander and his escort stepped into the residence’s central hall, where the delegates from the Kingdom of Valoria were gathering. A procession of young tribal women began serving platters of roasted meat, hot stews, and local fruits.

One of Valoria’s knights, a man who favored exotic luxuries, examined the platter with dissatisfaction.

"Is there no more fresh fruit?" demanded he in a harsh tone.

One of the tribal women bowed her head and replied:

"With the arrival of winter, fresh fruit is scarce in the forest. Please forgive the limitation."

Seeing the woman apologize, a soldier from Valoria’s escort spat on the floor and let out a laugh.

"Tch... A barbarian tribe will always remain a barbarian tribe. There is no doubt your shaman does not know the basic manners required to serve nobility."

The two Overlord tribe guards standing sentry at the dining hall entrance stiffened. To the members of the tribe, disrespecting Kellar was considered a capital offense.

One of the tribal guards stepped forward, his hand resting on his weapon’s grip and his eyes burning with rage.

"How dare you disrespect our shaman...?" warned the hunter in a menacing tone.

PAFF!

Without a second’s hesitation, the Valorian soldier struck him across the face with his leather gauntlet, the impact cracking through the hall.

"Learn your place, you dog!" roared the foreign soldier, half-drawing his dagger. "You stand before His Majesty’s envoys. One more word and I shall cut out your tongue so you can never bark with your hound’s voice again!"

The assaulted soldier set his jaw so hard his teeth creaked. A fire of hatred burned within his eyes and his muscles coiled, longing to dismember the aggressor on the spot. In an surge, the tribal soldier reached toward the rifle slung across his back, gripping the metal barrel with fury; yet the terror of ruining his shaman’s plan stayed his arm. He reluctantly released the weapon and remained steadfast, enduring the humiliation to avoid worsening the situation.

Observing that the tribal soldier offered no response and let go of his weapon, the Valorian mercenary let out a roar of mocking laughter.

"What’s the matter, savage? Has the cat got your tongue?" sneered the aggressor, landing another fist straight to the soldier’s face. "Even if I beat you to death right where you stand, what in the hell could your stupid shaman do to me?! You’re nothing more than a servile dog!"

PAFF! PAFF!

The mercenary began beating the soldier until knocking him to the floor. Seeing the man bleeding on the ground, the aggressor kicked the weapon that had fallen by his side.

"And what in the hell are you supposed to do with these metal sticks?" mocked the mercenary amidst loud laughter. "Do you use them to shove them up your ass?"

The soldier was wounded, spitting blood with his face covered in bruises. His guard companion gripped his own rifle so hard his knuckles turned bone-white, yet discipline and strict containment orders prevented him from initiating a shootout inside the guest house.

The maidens serving the table shrieked in horror as they witnessed the beating, attempting to scramble toward the exit. However, two soldiers from Valoria’s escort cut off their path with smirks.

"Where do you think you’re going, little pieces of meat?" grunted one of them, grabbing one of the tribal maidens by her hair and slamming her across the timber table.

Screams for help echoed throughout the dining hall as the foreign soldiers, brutalized by arrogance and wine, hoisted the women’s skirts and pinned them against the tables.

"I haven’t tasted fresh meat or a proper woman in days for coming out to your damned territory!" roared the soldier above the young woman squirming to break free. "Consider yourself fortunate that you’re about to taste a real man, you damned savage bitch!"

Evander Ellington, representing the Kingdom of Aethelgard, observed the scene from his seat, swirling his wine glass with indifference. He saw no reason to step in and stop the soldiers of their allied kingdom of Valoria; to the high northern nobility, the forest inhabitants were simple barbarians devoid of rights, and ruining military camaraderie over the fate of a few servants was hardly worth the effort.