R. Salvatore - The Bear

Bransen saw the confused looks of both Bannagran and Ethelbert. At his side, Reandu began quietly imploring him to be silent and step back.

Of more concern, across the way, Cormack and Milkeila seemed at a loss, completely unnerved and unsure, and with such a mix of emotions twisting their features that Bransen could hardly sort them out.

"We feared you dead," Cormack said, "but were told-"

"Lies, no doubt," said Bransen, staring at Affwin Wi as he spoke. "For that is the way of the Hou-lei."

"Does this young man speak for you, Laird Bannagran?" Ethelbert demanded.

"Be silent, fool!" Bannagran scolded, turning threateningly toward Bransen.

"You come to parlay, as emissaries of Dame Gwydre," Bransen said past Bannagran, aiming his remarks at Cormack and Milkeila. "To ally with Ethelbert?"

"Control your man, Laird Bannagran," Ethelbert warned.

A much larger man, Bannagran grabbed Bransen hard by the upper arm and pulled him back.

"Would Dame Gwydre be so willing for such an alliance if she knew that Laird Ethelbert's assassins had murdered Jameston Sequin?" Bransen asked bluntly.

Cormack and Milkeila fell back at that, staring alternately from Affwin Wi and Merwal Yahna to Laird Ethelbert. More telling to Bransen was the reaction of the other monk, Father Destros, his face a mask of fear, as if he had known or at least had suspected the dark secret of Jameston's demise.

"This is not about you or your friend, boy," Bannagran said quietly to Bransen as he bulled the young warrior backward to only token resistance. "You were not invited to speak." He ended by shoving Bransen back several steps. Master Reandu rushed up to take Bransen by the arm, whispering desperately for him to be quiet.

"Murderer," Bransen said to Ethelbert, then added, "murderess!" aimed at Affwin Wi. "I will have my mother's sword if I have to pry it from your dying grasp."

Both Affwin Wi and Merwal Yahna started forward at the threat, but Laird Ethelbert bellowed, "Halt!" before they could go very far. With a ferocious scowl upon his old face, the laird motioned the pair back behind him and told Affwin Wi in no uncertain terms to put the sword away.

"These issues are beyond my knowledge," Ethelbert said to Bannagran, though he was obviously aiming his remark at Cormack and Milkeila as well as Bransen, for whatever that was worth. The old laird turned to directly address Cormack as he continued, "We will learn the truth of it all, I promise." His voice grew very old then. "In the confusion that is war many die needlessly."

"What do you want, Laird Ethelbert?" Bannagran interrupted. "You asked for parlay, and so I am here. I honor your flag of truce."

"And I, yours," Ethelbert assured him.

"But my patience thins in light of these revelations and in the face of your warriors' threat."

"No threat," Ethelbert assured him. "I did not come to threaten but to offer."

"Then make your offer."

"Join us," Ethelbert said bluntly.

A few steps back from Bannagran, Reandu's continued quiet advice to the Highwayman stuck in his throat at that proclamation, and both he and Bransen turned blank stares at the surprising laird.

"I know you, Bannagran of Pryd," Laird Ethelbert continued. "I have witnessed you in battle, both as footman and as general, and I know that you cannot stomach the likes of that snot-nosed nephew of Laird Delaval."

"Beware your words of King Yeslnik," Bannagran warned.

"King Yeslnik," Ethelbert scoffed. "He is not prepared to lead a single small holding let alone the whole of Honce! Were he a farmer his crops would die and his chickens would starve. He could not throw a fishing line into the Mirianic without falling in behind it!"

Bannagran didn't seem to appreciate the mirth, for a smile did not crease his face. He stared hard at Laird Ethelbert, his expression unreadable.

"It is more than a matter of competence," Cormack interjected, stepping up beside Ethelbert. "It is a question of judgment and morality. Dame Gwydre has chosen to side with-"

"Do you speak for Dame Gwydre?" Bannagran asked.

"I do."

"And for Father Artolivan?"

"He does," Father Destros called from behind.

"I do," Laird Ethelbert corrected.

"We do," was all that Cormack would concede. He and Ethelbert exchanged a quick, but sharp, stare before Cormack stubbornly pressed forward. "It was not Dame Gwydre's intent to take sides in this conflict," Cormack explained. "She sailed south to deliver news of the defeat of Ancient Badden in Vanguard and the ascendance of the Order of Blessed Abelle in those northern reaches. She came to see if she could mediate in this terrible war, to help heal the wounds of Honce."

"A wiser course than the one you have ultimately chosen," Bannagran assured the former monk.

"It was the immorality of Yesl… King Yeslnik's proclamation," Cormack explained. "The dactyl-inspired demand that those prisoners who had served Laird Ethelbert be murdered. That foul edict demanded our course and the decision of Father Artolivan."

Bransen had stopped watching his friend Cormack, instead turning his eye to regard Reandu. The master didn't blink through Cormack's explanation, licking his lips as Cormack recounted the meetings that had brought Dame Gwydre and Father Artolivan to the conclusion that the notion of Yeslnik, this young man with such careless disregard for the lives of others, becoming King of Honce was simply unacceptable.

Master Reandu wanted to cheer Cormack's bold stand, Bransen realized, and indeed he thought that Reandu might not be able to contain himself and might do just that! The implications of that obvious truth had the Highwayman screwing up his face with confusion.

"It was not only an affront to those men who had served my army," Ethelbert added, "but one to your own soldiers."

Bannagran didn't look very convinced.

"Would your warriors not face more difficult fights if they marched against an enemy who knew that to surrender was to be put to the sword?" Ethelbert asked. "Is not the offering of mercy and safe return a valuable parlay position to a general who has won the field and does not wish to inflict wholesale slaughter upon his enemy?"

"The winds have turned against Yeslnik," Cormack insisted. "All of Vanguard and the brothers of Abelle have thrown in with Laird Ethelbert."

"All of Vanguard?" Bannagran replied with a mocking chuckle. "Palmaristown alone puts more men on the field than your Dame Gwydre can manage, and not all of the brothers have run to the call of the traitor, Father Artolivan." As he finished, Bannagran turned to regard Reandu, who withered under the laird's imposing stare.

"Father Artolivan answers to a higher king than any mere mortal man," said Cormack.

"Does he indeed?" asked Bannagran. "Would Ancient Badden's deluded minions not say the same of him?"

That put Cormack back on his heels, Bransen noted, but the resourceful former monk squared his shoulders and insisted, "It is for the good of Honce, for the good of the common folk of Honce, that Dame Gwydre and Father Artolivan have chosen to oppose Yeslnik."

"They will be buried side by side, then," came Bannagran's sarcastic reply.

"And not for any personal gain," Cormack managed to continue. "Laird Bannagran, I beseech you…"

But the Bear of Honce was laughing at him, so Cormack relented. "It is all for personal gain whether for Dame Gwydre or Laird Ethelbert or King Yeslnik," Bannagran admitted. "Whether for Father Artolivan or Father De Guilbe or Master Reandu there. For all of us, you fool. Spare me your words of greater imperative or nobler cause. A man thrusts his spear into the gut of another for the cause of personal gain and not out of nobility. A laird seeks alliance for personal gain or begins a war to expand his holding. No doubt your Dame Gwydre eyes a foothold on the civilized lands in recompense for her token support of Laird Ethelbert. She will soon come to regret that choice of ally, though." He turned and glanced back to the west. "You have no doubt heard of the scope of my force, and it is but one of King Yeslnik's three great armies. You are sorely outnumbered, outarmed, and outarmored."