Chapter 269: The Weight of Defeat
The four surviving envoys were confined inside a small timber house at the edge of the village. Positioned right at the entrance doors and along the outer perimeter, tribal soldiers in silver armor guarded the grounds; the cottage appeared completely surrounded.
Count Evander Ellington, who had somewhat recovered thanks to the tribe’s medical treatments, adjusted himself with effort on the cot and turned toward his advisor.
"Do you believe that shaman has any intention of releasing us, Benoit?" asked Evander in a weakened tone.
"I cannot say, my Lord," answered Benoit, tucking the noble’s blankets. "Three days have passed since we last set eyes on him. Because you remained unconscious, they permitted us to reside here and have not initiated formal talks."
"Can we summon him?" asked the Count, knitting his brows. "Have you heard anything regarding his whereabouts?"
"One of the sentries mentioned yesterday that the shaman would be away for a couple of days to investigate an incident at the border... though we cannot be certain of the true situation, my Lord."
Evander clenched his fists against the mattress, venting a muffled curse.
"Those Valorian fools ruined everything... They are a pack of idiots!" growled he in suppressed fury.
"My Lord, please compose yourself," pleaded Benoit, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your life was preserved by the shaman, yet several of your wounds remain open. Should you thrash about, the sutures may tear."
The Count closed his eyes, recalling with bitterness the chase through the woods.
"Those tiger-riding warriors are formidable... We could not withstand a single assault," whispered Evander, his voice cracking under military shame. "My father’s knights... The knights it took him a lifetime to forge... Gone. Completely liquidated."
"My Lord, do not dwell upon that now," tried his servant to console him. "We can still raise a new army. We can rebuild. Following this, even should the King demote our standing, we can start anew."
"No, Benoit... No," said Evander, shaking his head as he stared at the ceiling. "This is over. Upon our return, even if we shift full blame onto Valoria to save our own necks, we will not escape the King’s wrath. We will be executed the moment we set foot in the capital."
"My Lord, do not entertain such thoughts," pressed Benoit. "We can still endeavor to negotiate the pact. Though we lost the escort, should we succeed in securing the treaty with the tribe, we can offset our losses before the crown."
"Do you take that shaman for a fool, Benoit?" countered Evander with a smirk. "I doubt he will follow our script to the letter. His maneuvers are peculiar; he acts with decisiveness when required, yet retreats strategically when he chooses not to."
Benoit fell silent before answering:
"Let us wait and observe how he acts upon his return, my Lord. We can forge a decision when that moment arrives. Right now, the paramount objective is keeping our lives."
Far from the walls of the guest house and the whispers of the captives, the freezing wind roared across the heights of the Wind Mountains, the ancient realm where the Great Eagle King once held dominion.
Kellar crested the skies standing tall atop Little Green’s back, whose massive wings sliced through the high-altitude updrafts with ease. Resting upon the shaman’s shoulder was Freyja, who had recovered her full vitality; her white coat gleamed under the winter sun and her golden eyes scanned the crags below with composure.
"It is here, Master," communicated Little Green through their mental link, dipping one of its wings. "They are directly below."
"What precisely is he seeking?" asked Kellar, tightening his grip around his staff.
"It is the Black Condor, a Major Guardian," explained the elemental beast. "He serves directly beneath the Great Roc and was a longtime companion to the former Eagle King. Earlier this morning he breached our territory; the moment I sensed his presence, I flew out to intercept him to discern his intent. Upon learning the Eagle King had perished at your hands, he flew into a rage. I clarified that you now rule this entire expanse, and he demands to speak with you directly."
"Very well... If that is the case, let us greet him," replied Kellar with a smile, patting the white cat resting against his shoulders. "I am counting on you, Freyja. If the little bird decides to lose his mind, sever his head immediately."
The white cat let out a low rumble, acknowledging the command with a growl that vibrated against the shaman’s chest.
Little Green folded its wings and swooped down in a clean dive toward the stone plateau rising at the peak. There, perched atop a rock formation, waited a monumental creature: a condor wrapped in jet-black plumage with eyes burning like glowing embers, whose presence radiated an aura of elemental pressure.
The Black Condor beat its jet-black wings, unleashing a gust of freezing wind that caused the surrounding crags to groan. As it locked its ember-red eyes upon Kellar’s silhouette, the great creature froze in astonishment before a fury distorted its features.
"Is this human the one who defeated my friend?!" roared the elemental bird, its voice booming through the chasms. "You, tiny human! How dare you...!!"
"Silence, giant bird," cut him off Kellar, raising his hand with coldness and severing the creature’s rant mid-sentence. "If I could kill the Eagle King, I can kill you, so cut the nuisance. I want to know why you came and what your intentions are. Should you come seeking war, we can start it right now, but I promise you there won’t be many of your species left when it ends."
The shaman’s words echoed with such confidence that the atmosphere itself seemed to freeze. The Black Condor puffed its feathers, swelling its chest as it radiated an aura of magical pressure.
"You, human!" bellowed the Guardian with a shriek that shook the very peak of the mountain. "Do you believe you can defeat us?! Do you truly believe you possess what it takes to challenge the true lords of the sky?!"
Kellar did not even bother to look at him directly; he continued gently stroking Freyja’s back while replying with a mocking smirk:
"Something very similar was said by the White Tiger King... and today he is merely a subject of my tribe. Do you care to test whether your beak is sharper than his claws?"