ARC 6-Winter War-147 (Patreon)

The tension in the room takes on a more sinister identity. Kalise is a straightforward woman. Her first response to a problem is action, preferably violence. Standing around talking goes against her nature but she’s been enduring because it appeared to be the best route to saving her son. Now that a dragon may lie at the end of that road, she is changing course and falls back on her nature.

The duke is not happy being threatened, as he’s made it clear that we will have to go through him if we want to take Khan away. I think he’s even less happy being defied. It can’t be something he’s used to.

“This is why I did not spread the information. All the ancient texts agree that dragons do not involve themselves with the other races. The Great War was an aftereffect of an internal conflict. They did not care about us. Their lesser cousins that caused mayhem on the other continents were not dispatched on their orders. There is no reason to believe they would involve themselves in this conflict but the mere mention of them could compromise even the north’s will.”

“Today is not tomorrow.” Kierra shares her first words, looking bored with the conversation. “And all things change. The long-lived races take more time to do so than others but all change. To assume you can predict the actions of any being after five centuries is foolhardy.”

“Especially after such a large event,” Eleanor adds. She is fighting her instinctive reaction to the revelation with rationale, her mind spinning to keep her heart from racing. I hear it slow with every passing moment. “The Great War could have changed their culture. Perhaps one of the lesser races, as you put it, caused the fighting and they have adopted minimal intervention in certain places to avoid another war.”

“Minimal intervention is still enough to kill all of us a hundred times over,” Kalise reiterates.

“If there is a dragon,” Roza counters, frowning heavily.

Eleanor glares at her. “I’m not surprised you jump to defend him. This is more serious than clinging to his thigh, Roza.”

“I agree. This is incredibly important. While I am annoyed that he kept this from me for even a week…” She pauses to give the duke a nasty look. “I understand. Moreover, I agree. Logic says there is no way a dragon is involved and the creatures having a scale is happenstance, but the mere possibility of another explanation makes me tremble. If this information is shared recklessly, forget the fate of Victory. It’ll tear Harvest apart.”

Tired of the conversation that isn’t going anywhere, I raise my voice. “There’s only one person in this house that can answer your doubts. So, the question is, does the duke think ruling out the possibility of a hostile draconic element aiding the estrazi is worth maybe offending his knights?”

“It damn well better be,” Kalise grouses.

The duke is dark and imposing standing straight with his shoulders hunched and his fists balled at his side. “I do not know,” he says slowly. Kalise lets out a chain of colorful curses, but he talks over her. “I understand your arguments but if I agree with them, that will be acting out of fear and that is not Victory’s way. If I spare Khan, I can’t know if I’m doing it for the north or for my own selfish reasons. When there is doubt, we have to look to the ancestors for guidance. Traitors are to be executed. Those compromised by the mental affinity are to be executed.”

“I understand tradition,” I say before the angry mother can start screaming again. “I understand rules established for the benefit of the community. Summoners have a whole book of them. They do,” I assure Alana, who gives me a doubtful look. “One of the biggest is that summoners aren’t allowed to form a contract before coming of age.”

A well-trained adolescent may have a large enough mana core to form a contract without suffering permanent mana strain, but they make terrible negotiators. “There are certain things you don’t promise an elemental and there are realms you don’t touch. I do understand…your grace.

“Yet, you seem to be forgetting something. Traditions are not there to rule you. They are there to guide you. Otherwise, Victory wouldn’t need a duke. Summoners who thoughtfully go against the rules can make history.” That’s what my father wanted to do. Until I convinced him to send me to the Grand Hall, he was insistent on me marrying. Not because he thought my partner could shield the family from the Grimoires, but he was interested in testing the next phase of his Zero Affinity Theory. Forming contracts between weak, non-corporeal elementals and children.

Father’s four elementals have grown significantly in the twenty-odd years since he’s contracted them. In another twenty years, they’ll have coefficients over 300. By the end of his lifetime, Father will have four master casters, in power if not skill, contracted to him for only a sliver of his own mana. That’s when he planned to oppose Gordon Grimoire Sr., his childhood bully and eternal rival.

That’s one summoner. He painted a picture of every member of the Tome family contracting the same weak elementals, allowing them to grow over a lifetime. Our elders would each have four masters of each of the basic affinities as their servants, alongside whatever other contracts they forged. In two or three generations, we would be an unrivaled power. More than enough reason to compromise a tradition or two.

“Traditions don’t decide Victory’s fate. You and the people you lead do. If you’re going to kill your son, at least have the guts not to blame it on a bunch of dead people.”

“Easy, Lou,” Alana whispers.

“Excuse me,” I say. Suppose their ancestors are a sore point. “No offense to them but they aren’t here holding a sword to your neck. This is your decision and your decision alone. Your choice because we’ve given you another option. You don’t have to do this. You want to. Can’t imagine what Khan did to make you hate him—"

“I don’t hate my son!” he snaps, slamming a fist on his desk.

“Of course not. You just really want to kill him. Is that it? Do you get off on burying—"

The howling of a storm fills the room as a strong gust of wind slams into me. I would have hit the wall if Kierra didn’t step into my path to catch me, her bare feet cracking the wooden floor as she uses brute strength to stop my momentum. I never take my eyes off the duke, my attacker, waiting for his next move.

He looks furious but the glow leaves his eyes. I guess this isn’t going to devolve into a fight. Which may not be a good thing. I think I’m finally getting through to him. Some part of him.

“No wonder you’re scared to go against a dragon,” I mock as I straighten up. Beside me, Kierra is tense. If he throws another spell at me, she’s going after him. It’s clearly written on her face. The rest of the room is torn. I have no idea where their loyalties will fall if it comes to a fight. “You don’t dare to attack an upstart in your own home.”

“Then you know your words are out of line.”

“Reason wasn’t getting to you so I thought I’d try insults,” I say seriously, using a grave tone to counter my ridiculous words. “I was hoping to shock you back to your senses. How about it? Have you changed your thinking?”

“No. And this conversation is over. I believe you and my daughter need to prepare for your departure. Leave Victory’s affairs to me.”

“Erenheart!” Eleanor grabs the barbarian’s arm as Kalise takes a menacing step forward.

“We won’t come back.”

The room turns to Alana, the finality in her voice cutting through the tension like a sword. “If you execute Khan, I leave Victory and I never return. My house comes with me. Do you want to fight a war the north has been losing for centuries without our support? No, don’t answer. Everyone already knows. You need help. You know you need help, otherwise you wouldn’t have opened the fort to the hunters. If you want us, things are going to change.”

Her father’s gaze focuses on her with an uncomfortable intensity. A bad feeling sprouts in my stomach. “You ask me to change the traditions that have defined us since our founding for you. My daughter that does not want to be in the north.”

“I am.”

“…your house may be worth it…but only if you return.”

“I will.”

“You are already leaving.”

She grits her teeth and my bad feeling grows. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. We may not have spent much time together but I know your character. So do the ancestors. A James always chooses Victory.” He straightens up. “Next year, the armies of Victory will march together. We will pierce through the north and discover the truth. If you pledge yourself to march with us, I will trust you with Khan.”

And suddenly, my bad feeling makes sense. This cunning bastard. This is all a trick. His hard stance, losing his temper, attacking me. I thought it was out of character but attributed it to a man distraught at the thought of losing another child. Should have known better. He may truly be upset but he would never lose control. Unless it served a purpose.

He isn’t concerned about tradition, someone usurping him, or executing his son. Hasn’t he said it the whole time? His first concern is Victory and Victory’s best hope is us. Alana is currently disillusioned with the north and everything about it. She is preparing to leave. And though she says we’ll return, he can’t know that. He needs every advantage he can get if the estrazi have designs on his territory. He can’t afford for his daughter and her lovers to divest ourselves of the north. The goal of this conversation isn’t to save or doom Khan.

It’s to extract a promise from Alana.

“I intended to anyway. I promise I will return. Khan’s life is no longer your concern.” And just like that, his ploy works.

What can I do? Despite realizing it, he has us cornered. Alana doesn’t want her brother to die and she doesn’t want us to tear through the north to save him. She wants to return. So do I. My ancestor is involved in this mess and I want to see it through. But this manipulation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

The duke doesn’t even have the decency to look pleased. He retakes his seat with his usual grave expression. “Then we have an agreement. I will leave the matter of your brother to you. Since you are here, there is another thing we need to discuss before your departure. The details of the March.”