“Thank you for coming all the way out here. I apologize for the trouble I caused while I fumbled with the situation.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s all part of the job.”
He was apologizing, yet he’d managed to resolve a civil war in just a month. He was just as proficient as I would expect from someone who had survived that battle.
Thret led me into a massive hall, where two rows of long tables faced each other. Half of the seats—those closest to the door—were already occupied. The moment we entered, everyone immediately rose and stood at attention. Many of these individuals wore clothing covered in mud, and some leaked blood from where the material was ripped. Some even had their heads wrapped in pus-stained bandages. It soon dawned on me that everyone in this room had been on the losing side of the civil war. They had presumably been taken as prisoners of war.
With Thret leading me, I walked between the rows of tables to the seat farthest in the back. The place of honor, so to speak. The lesser lords took the long way around, taking their positions at the heads of the tables. There, they stood at attention just like the others.
Thret made sure everyone was in position, then introduced me. “This is the field marshal upon whom His Majesty has bestowed full control of the military—as well the messenger God has sent from another world! He has come today to oversee peace talks in the name of His Majesty, and to serve as our witness!”
Everyone apart from Thret drew their swords and held them out with the tips pointed down, then bowed to me. What am I supposed to do at a time like this? Right, something about drawing my sword.
I drew my blade and brandished it high, overlooking everyone in the hall. Then I clicked it firmly back into its sheath, and the rest tucked their swords away again. It seemed I’d followed through correctly, and I sent a silent thank-you out to my etiquette instructor. When I took my seat, everyone else followed suit. Meanwhile, Thret signaled to an attendant, who came over to him with a large roll of parchment in his hands.
“We will now review the terms of our peace treaty. Anyone who has an objection is free to raise it,” Thret said, looking the lords over. “If you will.”
“Yes, sir!”
The attendant unfurled the parchment and read each condition in turn. “Firstly, everyone in attendance agrees to recognize Thret, son of Worgan, as the lord of Kerulgarz. Secondly, all lords subject to Kerulgarz shall swear loyalty to Thret. Thirdly…”
The provisions covered all sorts of items from altering borders to ransoms and reparations, to the retirement of active lords, the appointment of their successors, and the promises of marriage between them. The losers listened with bitter expressions, but not one of them voiced dissent. The war was already settled.
Once the last condition had been read aloud, Thret stood and drew his sword. “This is your last chance to speak out! Come forth if you wish to oppose this treaty! You need only best me by the blade!”
Of course, no one said a thing.
“Then we have reached a consensus. Now for the ceremony of vows!”
He gestured for me to follow, and then headed for the exit with the lesser lords trailing behind us. We made our way to a corner of the yard.
Here were seven standing stones, each about human height and covered in moss. It looked as if they’d been plucked right from their homes and put on display. These upright stones formed a circle around an area of ground elevated like a sumo ring, a flat horizontal stone positioned at its center. Thret stood before the central stone and looked up at the sky. The sun had just reached its zenith, its winter rays casting slivers of shadow behind the megaliths.
“Perfect timing. Now offer your vows.”
Apparently, it was their tradition to offer their vows of loyalty within this stone circle when the sun was at its strongest. The lesser lords kneeled before Thret one by one, placing a hand on the central stone and speaking their oaths. It wasn’t long before everyone had said their vows, and Thret nodded in satisfaction.
“The vows have been made with God, the sun, and God’s chosen hero as our witness. You would do well to honor them!”
The lords bowed their heads again, and then the ceremony was complete. With the war officially ended, an air of relief came over the scene. I had now been released from my duties. When I glanced over at Thret, however, I detected an unpleasant nervousness flickering across his face. Was there still something else? But the expression was gone in an instant, and he went on as if nothing were amiss.
“Next, we will commence with the execution of the traitors! Bring them forth!”
The air once again became tense. I understood then that even if not every one of the conquered enemies was to be put to death, they still needed to execute a few of them to hammer their point home. Or perhaps these few had earned themselves an extra level of resentment for their actions during the intense clashes.
On Thret’s orders, a number of prisoners were dragged to the altar stone from the underground dungeons. The expressions of the vanquished lords immediately turned grave, while those of the victors were varied. The ones who looked satisfied were no doubt glad they had joined the winning side, whereas those off to one side looking awkward had presumably switched loyalties late in the game. While a minority, a few others even looked sympathetic. However, their eyes were not directed at the prisoners—strangely enough, they were looking straight at Thret.
I soon realized why. A six-year-old child walked to the head of the death row procession. He was, most likely, Thret’s younger brother.