Chapter 413 - Conditional and Unconditional

Chris

As it turned out, my presence wasn’t that necessary back in the West. After getting healed up and making my way back, I received a message stating that a parley had been called, and peace talks were about to begin.

He’d invited me to join, but I wanted to get a better picture of what was happening before I delved too deeply into that. I still wasn’t certain of what The Reservation was doing after their retreat.

Based on the fact they hadn’t been seen since, and our Scouts followed them back into their Faction’s territory, I didn’t assume they were up to much.

The Heartlands, on the other hand, was a Faction I had absolutely zero dealings with outside of Alaric’s Merchant Company. Their leadership and organization were completely unknown to me, except for Mikayla.

Plus, I wanted to check in with Elliot and Jon.

Arriving at what looked like a weathered fortress, Elliot looked like he’d seen better days, but was unwounded. Tired and bordering on exhausted, but well enough.

Jon, though, was ragged. His beard hadn’t been shaved in weeks, a fact that alarmed me. He was a meticulous shaver. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a cleanly shaven face, while he was the exact opposite. Seeing any facial hair growth spoke to how rough things had been for him.

His mana was nearly completely drained, and his aura, or what I could feel from it, was greatly diminished. I couldn’t feel his Spirit -due to my injury- but I assumed the same.

“Elliot, Jon. Glad to see you well.” I said before trying to add some levity, “Even if one of you looks worse than the other.”

“Har, har,” Jon barely had the energy to react, “You try holding a wall together for two weeks against hundreds of mages.”

“Elliot, how do the Orders fare?” I asked, getting to the more pressing question on my mind.

“Good.” He answered, “Casualties were light, only thirteen from shields failing at the wrong time.”

Thirteen dead. It said something that that number filled me with happiness rather than dread. “And Zion?” I asked.

“Stable.” He said, “Recovering, but slowly. Ashley estimates months until he can ride again. Maybe a year until fully recovers.”

A year… No legs, one arm, and more wounds than I could count. An entire year…

Things were taking longer and longer to recover from. H-ranks and G-ranks could be brought back from the brink of death in a few days, maybe even hours, depending on who was doing the healing.

D-rank took… longer. Those with high Fortitude, a stronger Body, and a more robust physicality, it all added to how long it took. The more that was there meant that there was more to heal. The only way to compensate was with a high enough Vitality to match.

Most people didn’t have that. I certainly didn’t.

“And Marcus and his Faction. How do they fare?” I asked.

“Uh… diminished,” Elliot answered hesitantly. “Death rates approaching 20%, wounded more than double that. I heard the weakest died quickly when the first wall fell. It only got worse after the second wall. It started…”

He went into detail, even describing the situation before our arrival to help Marcus, when we were still dealing with the Reservation.

How Mikayla had used her spells to burrow through and under the ground, to rip the walls down, and strangle people with vines. How they could push forward as Marcus retreated, building forward operating bases in the blink of an eye, with walls of plants to discourage attack.

Of how their offensive was unyielding and uncompromising, never letting up for a second. It was a tale of slow decline, until Elliot and Jon showed up. If they hadn’t, Mikayla may have been able to siege the city itself.

I nodded, taking that information in. Looking around at the fortress that had seen better days, at the devastation of the surroundings, of the bodies that were still being carried off the field.

“You want to know the worst part of this whole thing?” Elliot asked, only to answer without being prompted, “With a few months to heal, they’ll probably make it out stronger than they started. And that’s without whatever he gets out of them in reparations.”

Obviously, Elliot didn’t mean in numbers. Those would take much, much longer than that to recover. He meant in power. Average level, class grade. Strength other than numbers were where it would thrive.

Laws that had been achieved. Anchors that had been realized. Skills that had been upgraded. Classes that, with everything else, would see a marked improvement when people reached Rank thresholds.

“So will we,” Jon said gruffly.

Even though it didn’t make me feel good, I looked at the awaiting notifications I had that weren’t kill notifications. The ones I had put off looking at, not that it stopped them from existing.

You have upgraded a skill:
Wind Manipulation(Common) -> Wind Manipulation(Uncommon)

From trying and failing to usurp Tasunka’s control over the wind. I hadn’t won that battle for control, but it had improved my ability.

You have upgraded a skill:
Shatter(Common) -> Shatter(Uncommon)

From ending the fight by ripping the wall to pieces.

You have upgraded a skill:
Glacial March(Rare) -> Glacial March(Epic)

From abusing the skill to heights I hadn’t thought possible, and using it to run across the continent.

You have upgraded a skill:
Heavy Weapon Proficiency(Journeyman) -> Heavy Weapon Proficiency(Adept)

From fighting two Baron-level foes, and battle after battle afterword culminating in a fight against three Faction Leaders plus Robert. It was my most extensive experience fighting against other weapon users. The style and rhythm needed was much, much different.

You have upgraded a skill:
Throwing Weapon Proficiency(Apprentice) -> Throwing Weapon Proficiency(Journeyman)

This could have only come from the few times I’d thrown my weapon when it mattered most. Funny, how a skill that had proven mostly useless improved now, in a way I never expected. It wasn’t like a hammer was made for throwing.

You have upgraded a skill:
Pervading Cold(Uncommon) -> Dominating Cold(Rare)

Last, but not least, from dominating a man’s arm. Breaking it, shattering it, and sundering it from existence.

All had been gained through a great deal of blood and death. Some more so than others, but all had required a certain… sacrifice. A sacrifice I knew others would abuse.

The death of others.

So much gain for such an immense cost, yet I knew, without a fraction of doubt, this wouldn’t be my first transaction of such nature.

Monsters were one thing… but humans? My fellow man?

I sighed. “Take care, my friends. Gather things as best you can. I want an estimate of how early we can depart for home.”

“Where are you going?” Elliot asked.

“To put a price on a life, and negotiate for the worth of what was lost,” I answered.

___

The fortress didn’t have any meeting rooms for the peace talks, so an earthen construction was conjured, and furniture had been brought in. It was dull, but it didn’t need to be anything more than that.

Walking up to it, there were two sets of guards at the door, one wearing vibrant green, and the other wearing a light blue similar to our own colors but not as deep or rich. Plus, his secondary color was black, rather than white.

The guards knew me, or of me, and allowed me access to the door without a word.

“– too far. Don’t mistake my offer for parley as weakness. If you wish, we can continue what we’ve been doing for the past few days.” Mikayla said heatedly.

Marcus’s mouth tightened, but he relented. “Fine, but don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. You were the one to call for peace. Not me.”

Seems things are going well.

The two noticed my arrival at the same time.

“Christopher,” Marcus greeted warmly.

Mikayla seemed much less enthused about seeing me. “The Lord of Frost in the flesh. I’ve heard much about you.”

Lord of Frost? Is that what they're calling me these days? It was better than Iceman, at least, or whatever other odd name from before.

“Christopher is fine. I don’t care for any imposed titles or epithets.” I said and lowered into the third and final chair in the room. It was wooden and without a cushion, but comfortable enough. I just hoped this didn’t drag on.

“We were just discussing the details of Mikayla’s surrender,” Marcus said, shooting the woman a look.

Mikayla snorted, “Not surrender. An agreement to end hostilities.”

Oh lord, help me.

“It seems the Reservation is being left out of this. They are not free from the consequences of their actions.” I said, pointing out that the fourth Faction was missing from this discussion.

“That will be… tricky. Things have been… chaotic there recently,” Mikayla said and looked pointedly at me, “I hear their Leader is no more.”

“We fought. He lost.” I answered. “That does not free them from their responsibilities.”

Marcus tapped his fingers on the table, “I, uh,” he looked at Mikayla, “We assumed you would take ownership of their Pylons, or Vassalize them.”

I shook my head, “No. I have no need of their land or pylons. Not only is it too far away, but it’s not worth the trouble to hold it.”

What I didn’t say was that I already had enough of a headache thinking about what was about to happen. I hadn’t forgotten about Ryan or Canada. We didn’t have the time, resources, or manpower to control lands so far in the South, nor was it worth it when we were about to gain some closer to home.

At my refusal, Mikayla and Marcus looked at each other differently. Both bordered the Reservation. Both stood to gain from taking a bite from their neighbor.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll take nothing. There’s a price owed for the casualties we incurred. A price they still have to pay, leader or leaderless.” I added. “If someone is to take their land or vassalize their Faction, that price doesn’t disappear.”

What we could get from them wasn’t much, but I would still get it nonetheless. Sarah wanted a good herd of their best horses for breeding and rearing purposes. She also wanted whatever records they had of Beast Taming and breeding. Classes, Skills, techniques, all of it.

Abigail used her skill to communicate what we needed and what they could offer once she heard things were finished.

“Before we get to any of that,” I cut the two off from whatever they were planning, "I should mention what we are already doing. A message has been sent to whoever their new leader is, demanding their formal surrender. Their complete and unconditional surrender.

“After that is done, we will take or copy all Body Refining and Mana Cultivating Techniques that they own. Along with any books they’ve purchased or acquired. Any Skill Orbs will also be taken, if they have them.” I hoped, for Hal’s sake, there would be good Wind Techniques. We had a few, mainly from Hal’s personal purchases, but it wouldn’t hurt to get more.

Mikayla snorted, “Might as well conquer them at that rate, if you’re going to take everything.”

“Not everything,” I corrected, “I have no need for their land or pylons. I will not force their people to move, either, but I won’t say no if they choose to relocate. Any mines, farms, or other resource harvesting operations are also something I have no interest in.” Not that we could hold it even if I did. Any resource they had, we could find closer to home or acquire with a lot less hassle. “We give up any claim on all of that, in return for a percentage for the next few years.”

With that out of the way, the discussion quickly devolved into negotiations on numbers. The Heartlands was next, and with Mikayla sitting there and without unconditional surrender, the debate was much more back and forth.

Marcus and I couldn’t just demand everything. Instead, we poked and prodded at things we wanted, and she defended vehemently. Every concession came from tightly clenched hands.

In the end, I was happy with what we got. Marcus got more from her, but he’d also paid more for it. Along with a non-aggression agreement, he made out with a hefty tribute and enough resources to rebuild everything that had been destroyed and then some.

His Faction would be seeing some growth in the following years.

Frostheim, meanwhile, made out like a bandit, all things considered. We took few losses compared to what we got in return. We had to agree not to attack first, but we weren’t planning on doing that in the first place.

From the Heartlands, we demanded high-quality, high-grade food. Grains, fruits, and meat on a scale we couldn’t produce in the North. Expensive wines and juices were nice, but not something we needed as a Faction. We could buy them if we needed them.

Also gold. There were things we could buy from Vulwin that the Heartlands didn’t have with the extra revenue.

The one thing both Marcus and I tried to get were future Faction Points, but Mikayla outright refused to even consider it. She knew, just as we did, that they were much too valuable to give up. The chance to buy things directly from the System was too big a boon to trade away.

All together, I was satisfied with the way things ended. Even more satisfied in knowing that more would be coming from Bri and Zuri.

Walking out after hours of discussion, the sky was dark, and the stars were out. We were too far south for the Northern Lights, but I still gazed up, hoping to see them.

After I deep breath, I pulled out my Messaging Stone.

“Did you find him?”

It took a while for the response to come back, relayed as it was.

“No. His tracks mysteriously end a few hours north of where you fought. Something or someone came to his aid. Killian says it wasn’t done under his own power.”

I sighed.

“Find him, Hal. And that sword. I need to know what devil he made a deal with.”