Penitent

Chapter 249 Book 4 Ch 30: King Loen

Lance stepped forward and bowed.

"Count Kreg, leader of the mediators. At your service."

"Oh, I know who you are, and I know your company as well" said King Loen, pushing the handle of his warhammer forward and letting it rock back to him, his eyes resting on Michael. "The Hero of Lataxia, Saviour of the Takers, Stent deserter, Healer of thousands. Everyone knows you. Perhaps more people than know of me."

Michael kept himself from frowning. He hadn't exactly hidden the fact that he was a taker, but he hadn't been explicit about it either. Either it was spreading quickly, or the King had mixed it in to throw him off balance.

"I doubt there's anyone unaware of the King of Swandia, the jewel of Hume," responded Michael.

"Quite smooth. Unfortunately, smoothness will not be enough to keep those snakes making their cozy burrows in my border from sinking their fangs into me and mine." He gripped the handle of his warhammer loosely and lifted it as if it weighed nothing, waving it casually side to side to gesture at all of them. "Still, I suppose your men that've accomplished the impossible before, eh?"

"No such thing as impossible," replied Lance with a smile.

He gradually lowered his hammer. It wasn't some ridiculous fantasy implement of war, but was actually rather narrow, but it was still large enough that the way he held it showed immense strength. "We will send a messenger across the no-man's-land to let King Castor know that mediation can begin tomorrow. Your people will join me and my officers for dinner tonight."

Lance bowed. "We look forward to it."

They bowed and were led back to the tents they'd been loaned for the duration of the mediation.

"I don't trust him," said Marcus once they were in the tent.

"You don't trust anyone, but us," said Ollie with a smile.

"Why?" asked Michael.

"He was informal and loose with us, but the men around him were dead silent and stock still. I'm not sure if they're afraid of him, but that felt off."

"I noticed that as well," said Pyotr.

Michael walked over to where the diplomats were being set up. Undred, their senior diplomat, had her own portion closed off as she was one of the few women among them and the only female diplomat. He raised his hand to knock, remembered that you can't do that with canvas, and opted for loudly clearing his throat instead.

There was some movement on the other side and Undred pulled the canvas 'door' to the side. "Count. What can I do for you?" she asked.

"King Loen, I wanted your impression of him." He should've asked before, but he'd been more focused on how to approach his son. He'd been letting Lance take the lead on managing everything else.

"I have not had any direct dealings with him, though I have met many times with his people."

"And?"

"He is untested, but eager. He is around the same age as Castor, but his borders are peaceful and his kingdom rich in fertile land and acts as the connection to dwarven minerals the rest of Hume must deal with. Swandia has firmly been in his family's control for hundreds of years, and from what I understand he grates against the lack of opportunity he has to prove himself. I was told once, by a man heavily in his cups, that he often wishes aloud for conflict."

"But he agreed to the mediation?"

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"It gives him time to consolidate troops and feel out his enemy. Probably the same reason Burndan agreed to it as well."

"Do you think he'd do something to sabotage things?"

She shrugged. "Yes, but I believe King Castor is just as likely to, if not more so. He's wily and often disregards common standards of war and negotiation. King Loen also needs the time more than King Castor does, so it would make less sense for him to risk the mediation ending sooner."

"So I should be immensely careful no matter what?"

"Good advice no matter the situation."

He chuckled. "True. Thank you."

She nodded and he walked back to the others to relay what he said.

"I mean. I couldn't give a fuck about the mediation. I'm just here for you," said Marcus with a yawn, "but if this king gets in the way of that then we'll figure something out."

"I appreciate it, but I'd like to avoid any additional bloodshed and trouble if we can."

"We haven't had much luck at that so far, but I'll do my part," replied Marcus with a shrug.

Michael sighed, that was the best he could hope for. He knew Marcus wouldn't needlessly provoke things, and none of the others would either, but he couldn't control kings and their people. Not to mention the chances that other outside forces might come into play. The Empire of Chitin had already interfered in Stent, who's to say they weren't involved in dozens of other places.

They all took some time to wash and dress in fresh clothes before dinner. It was decided that they wouldn't wear their armor, though they would be armed. Michael was dressed in a royal blue silk shirt that hung long with a golden rope at his waist over black pants. He wore a fresh pair of Stent boots he'd commandeered before he'd left. The others were dressed similarly, aside from Ollie, whose titled gear worked just as well as formalwear. If his hair went white and he grew a beard, then he'd be comfortable being a painting on the side of a van.

They arrived at the officers tent, which had been converted for dining, and sat across from a number of officers and a few diplomats. The King was seated at the head of the table, and Michael found himself directly to his left. The meal passed without comment. The royalty had the same rules about speaking about business during a meal as they did in Old Hume. They ate seared duck, seasoned peppers, some kind of starch drenched in vinegar and a few other things Michael couldn't quite discern. When they were all done eating, an additional cup of wine was prepared and conversations began flowing across the table.

"One of my ancestors was a taker," said King Loen as he sipped his wine.

"I had heard something along those lines," replied Michael. "Is that why takers have so much leeway here?"

He nodded. "It is indeed. My ancestors had a daughter that was a taker. They spared her, but removed her from succession. She was clever, gave us a number of inventions that supported us after the initial collapse of Hume. She was able to have a family of her own, and while she wasn't able to inherit it was decided that since her bloodline was still ours, her children could still inherit. A few deaths by disease and other quirks of the monarchy and now it's her line that rules here." He took another sip of his wine. "We've always been more supportive of takers than anyone else."

Michael didn't respond, just taking a sip of his wine.

The King took one of his own. "Would you say that Old Hume looks more favorably on Swandia, or Burndan?" he asked.

"An unwise question for a mediator to answer. Besides, I'm really just here for protection and to represent Hume. Lance would be better able to answer you," responded Michael, gesturing to Lance and feeling like he was in a meeting with a supervisor that really wanted him on his side for something.

The King laughed, a bit too hard, and had another gulp of wine. "What about individually? I know you worked here for some time. As did your friends," he gestured to Ollie, Pyotr, and Marcus. "A man such as yourself probably made friends, lovers. You certainly left an impression on people."

"I enjoyed my time here," responded Michael simply.

"And you fought against Burndan as a mercenary, yes? I hear they even cost you a friend of yours."

Michael let his polite smile drop."You seem to have a lot of information about me."

"It's important for one to know the goings on of their kingdom, and the people who pass through it."

Michael finished his cup of wine, his recovery keeping him from feeling a buzz for more than a few moments.

"Is there something specific you're building to?" he asked.

King Loen smiled, but there was a bit of agitation in his eyes.

"I'm just trying to get a measure of you. If this mediation doesn't go well then things could escalate very quickly. I assume you didn't arrive with swords and armor for no reason? When blood is drawn I just want an idea of where you will stand."

"As long as all of the parties involved don't attempt something during the mediation, then our weapons won't be necessary." Michael sighed. "I am going to be doing my best not to draw my sword on anyone while I'm here." He looked at the King, putting the full force of his gaze upon him, his eyes of judgement active. "Please, do not give me reason to."

To the King's credit, he didn't flinch.

Michael nodded. "Thank you very much for the meal, and the wine."