The king gets an offer

The procession entered through the citadel's strong defences and was immediately escorted to the throne room. There, they found themselves face to face with the infamous Jarl Alrik.

He awaited them casually sitting on the steps in front of a colossal but empty marble throne.

Alrik bowed his head with a slight glint of sarcasm in his movement as they approached the throne, ”Welcome to Zatakia, your highness,” he said.

It might have seemed odd that Alrik sat in front of the throne and not actually upon it. But Nila, who was an avid reader, knew the tale behind it this peculiar custom. The throne had been empty for over 500 years, ever since Glum the Brave, the last king of Zatakia, had vanished along with his entire host during a campaign against the orcs of the Eternal Mountains. Ever since the kingdom had been ruled by a council of elders, and in times of war, which was pretty much always, the council elected a prominent warrior, or 'High Jarl' as their ruler.

Nila trembled as she gazed up at the present one - Alrik the Conqueror.

He was tall, with unkempt ash blonde hair and a beard. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, and he donned a simple chain tunic with a grinning wolf, the Zatakian coat of arms, on his chest. Despite a selection nasty looking scars, he had a finely cut face, a firm mouth and blue eyes that shone brightly from under his fierce brows. He was also younger than she had expected, probably in his late thirties. He came across as a fearsome soldier and a leader of men. But he was not at all the primitive savage that Lydian mothers invoked to scare their children.

To her surprise she found him fiercely handsome and despite the grave situation, or perhaps because of it, she felt a strange and very improper heat building between her legs.

Alrik observed the entourage. When he reached Nila, he riveted his eyes upon hers, then let his icy gaze wander down her body. The princess looked down with crimson cheeks.

”And a warm welcome to your daughter too.”

Nila felt her cheeks burning as she curtsied, ”Most gracious, my lord.”

”So tell me, your majesty,” Alrik continued after a long pause. ”What can I do for you? Or rather, what can you do for me? I am impressed that you dared come her in person, and I am willing to listen.”

Mandour lowered his head and spoke in his aristocratic southern accent, ”My Lord, I have come to mediate a continued peace between our realms and to ask for your benevolent grace. I ask for Zatakia's mighty armies to spare my kingdom and my people.”

His voice was suddenly so old and frail and did not hold his usual regal tone.

Alrik sighed, ”How very disappointing. I have heard great things about you, Mandour. I was hoping to crush you in a decent fight. But very well, old man, I'm still listening.”

”My kingdom has riches – gold and gems, fine wine and silk, and our forged arms are renowned in all lands,” The king said, ”Spare us, and you will get a good tribute.”

Alrik laughed, ”Tribute? I could simply take all of it. You have to do better than that or I'll be pissing in the holy basins of your Xira temples before next spring.”

King Mandour put on a troubled face and threw his arms out. ”Yes, but at what cost?” he asked. I know that Zatakians fear the Lydian horsemen. Why fight them when you can have them fighting at your side? Spare us, and we will become your most valuable and loyal ally.”

Alrik groaned and looked at the king with distaste, ”Ally?” he spat out, ”I have enough snakes and turncoats to brood about. With your head on a lance, I wouldn't have to worry about you sticking it in my back at the first opportunity.”

Now, Mandour got down on one knee, and his voice wavered with emotion, ”I beg you, my Lord! Spare me, and I shall forever be your loyal and humble servant. Your vassal.”

Seeing her proud father grovel in the dust was too much for Nila, and she broke into tears.

”Pathetic display, but now we are finally getting somewhere,” Alrik crossed his arms and leaned back in another nerve-wracking pause, seemingly considering the offer carefully.

”Very well,” he finally sighed, ”There shall be peace between our realms. You and your lineage will remain on the throne, and you will be protected as long as you swear fealty to Zatakia and recognize our supremacy. I will expect a regular tribute of gold and goods, unlimited access to your ports in the Summer River and that you will send us your best soldiers when we raise our banners.”

”Yes, yes of course! Thank you, my most benevolent... liege!” the king exclaimed.

”But...” Alrik grinned and raised a finger, ”There is one more formality to be settled.”

”Anything, my liege,” the King blurted out.

”Your daughter,” Alrik said while fixing his icy blue gaze on Nila, ”She stays here.”

Nila gasped in horror, and a cold shiver ran down her back.