"Can you identify who those three are?"
While I observed the envoy advance, it became clear that the three at the front of the group were, with all certainty, the leaders.
The group itself didn't exceed twenty, maybe thirty units — most of them carrying flags, and a good part looking much more like workers than combat units. Of course it could be an ambush. But, somehow, I felt that, if there were one, it wouldn't come from that group. There was a subtle difference between a handful of soldiers hiding a trap and a delegation displaying flags. That was a delegation.
And delegations, by definition, came to talk. Whoever comes to talk hasn't yet decided to kill — or, at least, isn't yet sure they can. That was the only terrain where a human could tread as an equal with an entire Belt: the terrain of words, where muscle doesn't score points.
"Yes… Pollux is Castor's brother. You probably met him — he was tied up by a magic rope belonging to one of the Fairywood's followers over there. Irepia. Honestly, I don't know how the Fairywood hierarchy works, but I know that, among all of them, that one there seems to have the most power."
"And who is that six-armed Orghaal there at her side?"
"Sorry… I still can't see clearly. But I think it would be Broxes. He's very strong — the six arms aren't of an inferior caste, so he comes from lineage. I once saw Bestaria commenting to one of her followers that he was someone they should worry about, because they had the same power. But, after a while, it became clear that what he had in strength… he had in intellectual insufficiency. Honestly, of all of them there, he was the only one I was sure would never be capable of commanding anything. And Bestaria knew that too."
Eris was very specific in her information. Which was excellent — because there were so many things I needed to know about the enemy that I myself was worried about getting lost among them.
But it was expected. Eris was someone from the nobility, someone who valued life before strength. So she was intelligent. She had studied every creature of that ravine until she understood exactly how far she could go, what she could say, and what she could do before being killed. It was for that same reason that she kept herself lying on the ground, hidden, peeking only at a piece of what approached.
In the end, I always thought the most intelligent were also the most fearful.
And, of course, I shared the same feeling as her. I was afraid. I was angry. But, somehow, I managed to control them in a way almost foreign to myself — it didn't always work, I admit, but it was a mask I liked to wear. In my head, death comes faster for those who demonstrate weakness. So I preferred to hide it well beneath my skin.
The difference between me and Eris wasn't the absence of fear. It was the destiny I gave it. She let fear choose where she stayed — lying down, hidden, far away. I let fear choose everything, except my expression. It was the only part of me I refused to hand over for free.
✦ ✦ ✦
"Are you going to stay here… or come down with me?"
Her eyes already answered the question. But I thought it would be polite to ask it anyway.
"I'll stay here. I'll be right back."
"Don't you think it's too risky to go up to them? I mean… if we stay inside the kingdom, we could manage—"
"To be killed."
I cut off her sentence before hope could take root.
"They know you and I were in the nest. Just like Bestaria. Just like that Lycan's brother, and the Fairywood's subordinate. The difference is that the two of us came back… and they didn't. Those three there probably think we used some unknown method to survive. And, if that's what they think, then we're at an advantage. They would never send an envoy if they knew they had a chance to win in a direct fight. What we need to do now is follow this dance. And, in this dance, whoever asks to leave first… loses."
I saw, in Eris's eyes, the reflection of my own words settling in.
Of course there was much more involved — layers upon layers. But the core of the problem was simple: as long as they had fear, or doubt, we would be at an advantage. Their fear was our real wall. Not the one of stone.
"I understand… But, honestly, I wouldn't go there."
I just looked at that girl lying on the ground.
"I understand you. But you need to understand one thing: in a world where only the strongest survives, demonstrating weakness can be the worst thing you do. Prince… we're going down."
✦ ✦ ✦
The last word I shouted — and, finally, Prince appeared behind my back, cutting through the air, at the exact instant when Morgana and I hurled ourselves from the wall.
We fell a few meters before being caught by the enormous griffin in mid-dive.
Livina preferred to descend using one of her own Treebeards — sinking the wooden roots into the stone of the wall, letting the friction reduce the speed meter by meter. Arachne opted for the more direct exit: she simply jumped, and an enormous web anchored her in place, stretching and yielding in such a way that she looked more like she was running down vertically than falling.
To me, a good entrance was worth as much as courage.
They needed to understand, before a single word was traded, that that wall wasn't a cage that would trap us should we have to flee — and, at the same time, that we weren't weak enough to hide behind it. The way you enter a place tells the enemy how much you fear leaving it.
A man who locks himself behind walls announces that the walls are all he has. A man who jumps from them announces that the walls are a luxury, not a necessity. I needed them to believe the second version — even if, deep down, the first was much closer to the truth.
When I finally reached the ground, we were a little less than five hundred meters from the envoy.
And it seemed surprised. Surprised by the fact that I had opted to go see them personally, instead of staying feathered up in the kingdom, behind the walls, like a hen on a roost. That, to me, was an excellent sign.
"Now comes the hard part."
✦ ✦ ✦
In my head, I needed to always be ahead in the conversation.
Because there would be requests — many — while I could only offer concessions. Something was going to happen, with all certainty. I needed to soften each word, find a safe way to give absolutely nothing and, even so, buy time. Put that way, it seemed simply impossible.
But every impossible negotiation has the same secret: the person with the least to offer needs to seem the one with the least to lose. If they thought I was in a hurry, I would lose. If they thought I had options, I would gain time.
And time was, in the end, the only thing I really needed to buy. Even a week would already allow me to reinforce the towers, increase the quantity of Yokais and, mainly, summon more warriors with Vo'ruun's power. And I must admit: that last one was what gave me the most hope of winning a fight against those who threatened us. I knew that, behind that wall, with an army like that, I would be impenetrable.
But, while the nervousness of seeing the enemy approach rose up my spine, I felt two hands on my shoulders.
They were Livina and Morgana.
"It's all going to work out. I trust in your wisdom. Besides, we're here, if you need us."
"Yes… And, if you want, I can simply summon the Treebeards and get this over with. Killing them here, we'll be free."
"Thank you, girls. But things aren't so easy. We still need time — and I feel they know that. The question is how much they know. Let's try to be as evasive and peaceful as possible. Daughter… if something goes wrong, we're going to flee with you."
Arachne was our lifeboat.
She was strong enough to withstand the attack of those enemies and, besides that, had excellent mobility. Prince could also be a viable choice — but I had a specific fear: that Fairywood seemed to carry some kind of power capable of simply knocking us out of the air. And, in the air, there's nowhere to run.
I had learned, in the worst way possible, to always think about the escape route before thinking about victory. Victories were uncertain. Escapes, when well planned, were the difference between becoming history and becoming dinner.
"Of course, father. I'll be here for anything."
✦ ✦ ✦
I advanced slowly. And, on the other side, only the three Eris recognized advanced too.
"I'm surprised a human came to us alone. In truth… I've never seen someone of your species so… bold. You must have had many fortuitous encounters down there, isn't that right?"
Pollux was the first to speak.
He didn't make a point of introducing himself — and, from what I understood of Eris's speech, he simply didn't like humans. If it weren't for the leaders of his own race, he would use us much more the way the Bloodsuckers used their own food — only, instead of blood, it would be flesh. His eyes didn't lie. He saw me much more as a meal than as someone capable of killing creatures stronger than himself. To him, maybe the idea was as absurd as seeing a cow killing the butcher — and not the other way around.
And it was exactly that arrogance I intended to use against him. A predator that underestimates the prey never looks at its claws. It only thinks about how it's going to chew.
"I think there are things that were made only for those who are capable of receiving them."
My words cut the mood — and a dense sensation, almost of blood, filled the air.
They seemed to have hit him exactly in the place where he wanted to hit me. But the tension broke into an enormous smile.
"HAHAHAHA… You humans are very funny. You know, I once had a little pet of your race. But he got too fat… and ended up becoming my dinner."
The words died in the air.
They seemed to have no concrete meaning within the conversation. But they said much more than the words themselves intended.
It was a threat dressed as an anecdote. A reminder that, to him, my entire race fit into a single category: cattle that hadn't yet been slaughtered. I stored the rage in a deep corner, along with all the others I had been collecting. It would be useful later. Rage always was — as long as you decided the hour to release it.
✦ ✦ ✦
"I think we're straying from the core of the conversation… How about you show us what you received from the dragon?"
The one who spoke was Irepia.
My eyes opened wide — and I felt, in the same instant, that they noticed the reaction. Of course I was shocked. No one there should know that. And, even so, they seemed to know.
My mind fired through all the possibilities at once.
They knew those words would destabilize me — so I needed to choose the response with caution. But, before the response, came the most important question: how? How could they know?
Everyone who was in there, and who could say something, was dead.
My mind flew to the main moments, examining one by one, trying to understand where what was in there could have leaked from.
I began with those who remained alive.
The Fairywood knew. Irepia's subordinate entered where I was and saw the dragon with her own eyes — but that subordinate died down below, swallowed along with the rest. Her death left no crack through which the information could escape to the surface. What she knew, died with her.
Broxes I discarded at once. The Orghaal weren't intelligent enough — and that one there, picking at his own nose without saying a word, didn't even seem to understand what a dragon was, much less to know what one tears from one.
Irepia spoke with conviction. But I knew a card like that would never be played so casually without a reason behind it. It wasn't an empty bluff — it was too specific for that. And, at the same time, it wasn't certainty: if she were sure of what I carried, they wouldn't have spent an entire envoy just to wrench the confirmation from me. She knew there was something. She just didn't know what.
And Bestaria? Bestaria didn't share anything with those races. I was sure she herself would kill everyone after looting the nest — no one hands a secret to those they intend to betray.
Each name I crossed out pushed me toward the same narrow exit.
Because that was how I hunted. Not with claws. With exclusion. Remove the impossible, and what remains — however improbable it seems — is the truth.
So, after very few seconds, my mind opened.
There was someone who was in there. Someone who, somehow, managed to pass the information to the outside before the end. And it would have to be someone who died believing that their own death wouldn't be in vain — someone who died with the certainty that they would be avenged.
Something that only a brother would do.
My eyes went to Pollux — who displayed a sarcastic smile, canines out, waiting for my downfall. He thought he had cornered me. He thought he was watching the moment when the human's mask would fall.
So, instead of shock… I smiled.
"Seems Castor really loved you… Or maybe you found out on your own. It's an interesting item, that one you carry on your chest — it was with it that you managed to get where you are now."
I wasn't sure of the first sentence.
But, when the great Lycan brought his hand, out of pure instinct, to the simple collar fastened to his neck — at the exact moment I said his brother's name — it clicked for me.
Of course there existed common items capable of transmitting information. But they were considered useless — at least, for anything really relevant. No one, in their right mind, would expect a trinket like that to serve to transmit something as precise as… how the other had died. It was exactly that underestimation that betrayed them. The link that consoled two brothers was the same link that had just handed me their entire game.
Pollux realized, too late, what his own gesture had confessed. The smile died on his face — and, in its place, came another thing. Something sharper.
"Seems we have an intelligent human. But are you strong too?"