Chapter 98: Take it or Leave it
The maps took up nearly three joined tables by the time Vincent decided there were enough of them.
Some showed roads and towns. Others were covered in irrigation lines, farms, elevation marks, military positions, and symbols Vincent had never seen before.
The King of White Apricot was seated at the head of the table while Commander Vaust, Captain Rolan, several officers, and ministers crowded around whatever space remained. Anastasia was seated beside Vincent with her hands folded neatly before her.
Vincent tapped the largest map.
"Forget where you’ve killed them. Show me where they’re coming from and where people have seen them moving."
That changed the discussion.
Officers began marking reports instead of defensive positions.
Charcoal lines appeared across White Apricot first, then continued into the neighboring kingdoms as older reports were added.
Some were uncertain, others contradicted each other, and several officials argued over whether sightings were separate groups or the same herd seen hours apart.
Vincent ignored most of that.
Gradually, the Valley took shape in his head.
The three kingdoms occupied one enormous fertile basin.
It was circular like a pie, and the three kingdoms were divided into three equal slices.
Mountains surrounded almost the entire outer boundary like the pie’s thick crust protecting the filling. The mountains were so large and difficult that ordinary people treated them as walls stretching forever.
There were trails, ravines, dry riverbeds, and rough saddles animals could use through the mountains, but proper travel was concentrated through the southern Highlands, where the terrain opened enough for the commercial mountain pass.
White Apricot happened to sit directly in front of that opening.
And every charcoal mark started there.
Beasts entered through the Highlands, spread through White Apricot, then scattered toward Red Persimmon and Golden Quince as people resisted them.
Vincent leaned over the table and stared at the map.
Several minutes passed.
The officials slowly stopped talking. They could see Vincent study these maps so diligently, maybe there really was a solution to all their troubles!
The King watched Vincent’s eyes move from one symbol to another and finally couldn’t help but ask, "Lord D’Arc?"
Vincent rubbed his chin and then turned to him.
"Yeah, so... I don’t understand what most of this stuff means."
"..."
The King stared at him.
Commander Vaust’s mouth opened slightly.
Captain Rolan looked down at the map as if wondering whether he had missed a joke.
One of the ministers couldn’t stop himself from asking, "Then what exactly have you been studying, Lord D’Arc?"
"The arrows."
Vincent pointed at the charcoal marks.
"And trying to guess whether this squiggly thing was a river."
"It is an elevation boundary."
"See? I have absolutely no clue what your maps state."
Anastasia lowered her eyes. Her young master had become a master at causing trouble. She was just glad she was stronger than everyone here, and could take him and run away if they tried to beat him up.
Ignoring the people’s unhappy expressions, Vincent straightened and dragged one finger from the southern Highlands into White Apricot.
"But this part is obvious. They’re all coming from here."
He traced the lines as they spread outward.
"You keep fighting them here, here, and here. Then they change direction and spread somewhere else. You’re treating them like an invading army, but wolves aren’t coordinating with deer to conquer your grain fields."
The King frowned. "We cannot simply allow monsters to pass through populated land."
"I’m not saying let them run wherever they want."
Vincent pointed toward the mountain ring.
"I’m saying give them somewhere easier to run."
That earned him several confused looks.
He turned toward the officers.
"You people know the mountains. Where can animals get out of this basin without using the main pass?"
Captain Rolan looked toward a thin section of the map. "There are ravines along the eastern ridge."
A grizzled officer beside him added, "A dry riverbed farther north. Difficult for wagons, but beasts use it during summer."
Another man pointed toward Golden Quince’s side. "There are two low saddles here. Hunters cross them."
"Great. Pick the routes that don’t go through towns and make those routes easy."
Vincent moved his finger backward from the mountain exits.
"Clear the roads. Pull people and livestock away. Tear down anything you’ve built across them. Don’t stand in front of the beasts shooting at them."
An irrigation minister frowned thoughtfully. "And the other routes?"
"Make those annoying."
"What?" The man couldn’t understand his terminology.
Vincent shrugged. "Flood fields if you can afford to. Close roads. Put soldiers along the sides instead of the front. Make noise. Fire at the ones trying to break toward villages, not the thousands already running somewhere useful."
The officials began looking at the map differently.
The irrigation minister moved first, tracing several canals with one finger. "These gates could saturate the western lowland within an hour."
"That would ruin several farms," another minister said immediately.
"It would ruin less than allowing the herds into Harrowfield," Vincent said.
Commander Vaust pointed toward two military positions. "If these companies withdraw, the eastern road becomes completely open."
"Exactly," Vincent said.
Vaust looked at him. "We spent half the night barricading it."
Vincent clapped his hands twice. "Congratulations. Now take it apart."
Before Vaust could answer to this, activity broke out near the edge of the square.
Two exhausted delegations had arrived almost together, escorted by White Apricot soldiers. Their clothing and insignia were unfamiliar to Vincent, but the King immediately stepped away from the table.
Representatives from Red Persimmon and Golden Quince.
The next few minutes were spent giving them the shortest possible explanation.
The reaction was immediate.
"You intend to withdraw troops while the beasts are still advancing?"
"You’re asking us to abandon productive land."
"If Apricot opens these routes, what prevents the entire migration from entering Persimmon?"
Vincent listened while they questioned the map, the reports, and one another. None of their concerns were stupid. Their kingdoms depended on the farms they were being asked to sacrifice, and nobody wanted to discover tomorrow morning that they had dismantled their defenses based on the advice of some eighteen-year-old foreign noble who had apparently gotten lost in the mountains.
Unfortunately, Vincent was also tired of explaining himself.
He raised one hand.
"Fellas."
The discussion stopped slowly.
He glanced at everyone calmly and said in a serious tone, "I couldn’t care less what you ultimately decide."
Several people frowned at his rude wording.
Vincent continued before anyone interrupted.
"This is your valley. You know which roads matter, which farms you can afford to lose, and which mountain trail leads somewhere instead of dropping off a cliff."
"I’ve told you the solution, it’s now up to you whether you take it or leave it."
"I’ll say it again just for clarification: stop blocking everything coming through the Highlands, give them easier ways out, and pressure them away from places you actually care about."
A Red Persimmon minister narrowed his eyes. "And if this magnificent solution fails?"
"Then tough luck, I guess? What else do you want me to do about this?"
The man’s face darkened.
Vincent leaned back against the table.
"I’m an outsider. I’m only meddling because your weird persimmon-apricot-quince mix wine sells ridiculously well in my county, and I’d prefer you people remain alive long enough to keep making it."
Many were visibly offended.
The minister of Red Persimmon Kingdom slammed his fists on the table.
"You speak of our kingdoms as though—"
A quiet wooden sound interrupted him.
Anastasia had placed her sheathed sword across the table.
She did not draw it, but her hand rested lightly beside the weapon while she calmly glanced at the minister.
"Humans don’t have thick hides like those beasts, so I’d suggest speaking carefully."
A loud silence ensued around the table.
Many soldiers gripped their swords and prepared to attack, but the officials around the table knew better and raised their hands to stop them.
They could not afford to offend Vincent even if he was rude.
Even if they ignored his background, they had heard of the strength of the lady beside him.
Five men could not kill one boar. She could kill five boars in less than five attacks.
They knew better when to hold their anger and quiet down
The Red Persimmon minister went silent.
Vincent glanced at Anastasia and was amused by her actions.
He softly chuckled and then looked back at the others.
"This discussion has been dragging on for a while and I can’t afford to waste more time. I have to leave soon because I have my own home to worry about, you know?"
Vincent continued, "You guys have ten minutes. Discuss, negotiate, whatever. If you haven’t reached some kind of conclusion by then, I’m really leaving and you guys are on your own."
He then ignored them and turned to look at the several servants standing nervously nearby.
"And you guys, do you not serve food to the guests or what? Such bad hospitality, tch, tch."
This sentence was a tight slap to the White Apricot King.
Though he didn’t get angry. Not serving food and drinks was some negligence on their part. They had been busy and monsters were running amok, he couldn’t be blamed, but still.
The King gestured at the servants and dinner arrived with remarkable speed.
Maps were cleared from Vincent’s side and food was served.
The three governments started their discussions and argued over irrigation gates, grain fields, reserve troops, and mountain routes around him.
Vincent unfolded his napkin, arranged it properly, and began eating with the exact controlled manners like a prim-proper noble gentleman. Every movement was elegant without anything unnecessary.
This created a second problem.
The Valley nobles paused midway between their discussions and kept looking at him.
The soldiers nearby stared at him too.
Vincent ignored them and cut his meat cleanly.
For the first time since his arrival, Vincent looked exactly like the sort of noble the people of Valley had expected from Falkner: upright posture, restrained movements, flawless table manners, and not a trace of unnecessary noise.
One Golden Quince official stared for several seconds before returning to the argument.
The contrast was striking.
Vincent swallowed.
"Is there more gravy?"
The servants nearby served Vincent more gravy.
Vincent then turned to Anastasia. "You should try those corn biscuits. Really dry but goes amazing with the gravy."
Anastasia quietly had some biscuits with the gravy as he mentioned.
The people ignored Vincent and focused on continuing the discussion.
White Apricot would suffer the greatest immediate losses. Everyone understood that quickly. The beasts entered through their territory, which meant their soldiers had to withdraw first, their roads had to open first, and their farms would become the first controlled channels.
The King remained silent for most of the argument.
Eventually, he turned toward Commander Vaust and the irrigation minister.
"Can it be done?"
Vaust exchanged a look with the older man.
"It can."
The minister nodded reluctantly. "We will lose crops."
"How much?"
"Less than we are losing now."
The King closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the argument around the table was still going.
He struck the map once with his palm.
Everyone stopped.
"White Apricot will open the southern routes."
The Red Persimmon minister immediately started to speak, but the King raised his hand.
"We will bear the first risk because the beasts enter through our land. But the other kingdoms will contribute soldiers, supplies, and compensation for deliberate losses required to keep those routes open."
He looked around the table.
"We either manage this together, or we continue defending three kingdoms separately until none of us have anything left to defend."
Vincent took another bite and stared at the political drama.
Good. Now they were finally getting somewhere.