The Autumn Republic

“Would you? My spies tell me she’s an untrained apprentice.”

His spies? The royal arrogance showing through. I know he has spies in my army, of course. But for him to admit so is… obscene. “Did they tell you that she cooked the whole of one of your brigades?” Out of the corner of his eye Tamas saw Nila sit up a little straighter, trying to look regal. She was a striking young woman-though the redness on her cheeks marred the image a bit. A little skill and confidence, and she would dominate this kind of negotiation. Bo hadn’t sent her as a rebellious insult, Tamas realized, he’d sent her to learn.

“And fainted afterward!” Ipille made a dismissive gesture. “Auxiliaries. I can always get more men. I imagine you’re running out. Isn’t that right, Lady Winceslav?”

Lady Winceslav gave the king a tight smile and flicked open a fan, fanning herself gently. “War is equally unkind to all, Your Majesty.”

“But especially to those with the fewest troops. Now Tamas, are we going to sit here making veiled insults and threats, or shall we treat together?”

“You have an offer?”

Ipille nodded to Regalish, and the adviser stood, clearing his throat. “This war is costing both our countries millions. By the grace of our lord Kresimir and Ipille II, king of Kez, we extend terms of peace.” He paused to clear his throat again. “We will withdraw our forces to Budwiel and the city will be ceded voluntarily to Kez control. Kez will acknowledge the autonomy of the Adran nation, and in exchange will be paid the sum of one hundred million krana as reparations.”

Regalish continued for another five minutes on the particulars of their offer, consulting an official-looking document twice on some minor detail. When he’d finished, he cleared his throat once more and returned to his seat.

Tamas put one elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm, and raised one eyebrow at Ipille.

“You’re very amusing people,” Lady Winceslav commented.

“You have no chance of winning, Tamas,” Ipille rumbled. “I can afford the losses of the past six months. They are a drop in the bucket to our population. You cannot. If nothing else, we will win by attrition.”

“Your men have told you that you’re now at war with Deliv, correct? The late Duke Nikslaus made a grave error by attacking Alvation with the intention of blaming Adro, and I understand they’ve invaded you from the north while also sending some sixty thousand reinforcements, which will arrive in just a few days. And they still have an entire royal cabal.”

Ipille’s expression gave nothing away. Regalish leaned close to him to whisper in his ear.

“Where is your one-eyed god, king?” Taniel said suddenly, his voice cutting through Regalish’s whispers. “Where are your mighty Privileged and your great armies? Where are your spies and your traitors bought with gold and religion?”

Ipille brushed Regalish aside. “You wish to match yourself against me, boy? You fancy yourself a god-killer? Tell me, did you piss yourself when you looked Kresimir in the face?”

“No. I shot him in the eye.”

“Kresimir lives yet.”

“Resting peacefully, I’m sure,” Taniel sneered.

Tamas flinched. Watch yourself, Taniel, he thought. He only goads you on so you will tell him our secrets. “That’s enough, Major,” Tamas said, hating the smug smile in the corner of Ipille’s mouth. He removed a paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

“We’re prepared to offer generous terms of our own. You will withdraw from Adro completely, relinquishing all your false claims and recognizing our republic with the Nine as witness. You will grant us ten thousand acres of the Amber Expanse. You will agree to a hundred years of peace, again witnessed by every country in the Nine, and you will return every prisoner of war and grant us hostages to guarantee your agreement.”

“And in return?”

“I won’t slaughter your army like a herd of mad cattle.”

Regalish was on his feet again. “You go too far!”

“Sit down, you snake. I treat with your king, not his dogs. In addition to all this, you will hand over Kresimir.”

“Kresimir is off the table,” Ipille said.

“More like under it,” Taniel murmured.

Tamas gestured his son to silence. “Those are our terms.”

“Such generosity,” Ipille grunted. “Shall I give you my firstborn as well?”

“I already have Beon, though I suppose he’s only the thirdborn.”

The Kez Privileged swallowed a laugh and received a glare from Ipille. “Shall I cut off my leg for you, Tamas?” Ipille continued. “Grant you a dukedom? You ask too much.”

“Those are our terms,” Tamas said.

“And they are intractable?”

“Well. This is a negotiation.”

The Kez delegation huddled on their side of the room and Tamas took his own advisers close to the chapel doors for privacy.