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Salt and Blood - Chapter 137
🕑 Added 2025-03-12 13:44:10 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 136 | Table of Contents | Chapter 138 >>
2.43 - Restless Allies and Old Enemies
Damn conquerin’ bastards! I’ll kill the king myself if you give me a pistol and a clean shot, you mark my words
-Overheard in a tavern in Greengate
In a manor in Havershill, a secret council was being held by some of the most influential members of Derridan society. The upper echelons of the nobility, the most powerful merchants, and various members of the government had gathered to discuss a deadly threat that loomed over Derridas.
It was the owner of the manor who spoke first. Seated in the only wooden chair around a circular stone table, the woman’s face was covered in shadows.
The only light in the room was cast by dim torches and many of those in the room were wearing hoods and other garments to hide their identity. Some of them didn’t care about hiding themselves, but many of them had no desire to share their attendance here.
The woman leaned forward, exposing fair skin and shining emerald eyes. Only a few wrinkles marred her otherwise perfect appearance, though the streaks of grey in her auburn hair gave away her age.
“Thank you for agreeing to my selfish request and coming to my humble home,” she began, her voice as smooth as silk, dripping into the ears of those around the table like honey. “As you are all aware, Minenblum has grown dangerously bold in recent times.”
At her declaration a chorus of mutters and whispers erupted around the table. Some were sounds of simple agreement, others complaints, but most were curious.
“There are those of you who might believe that their attacks against the Emerlan Isle have nothing to do with Derridas, but you would be foolish to hold to that belief,” she declared.
At that, chaos erupted. Voices raised to shouts, drowning each other out as the various people in attendance fought to make themselves heard.
“Preposterous!”
“The Emerlan Isle is of no consequence, what do I care if it’s wiped off the map?”
A man sitting opposite the woman, who had remained quiet until now, placed a single finger on the table. With that one movement, all the conversations ended.
“I agree. They will not stop with the Emerlan Isle,” the man said, his voice steady but carrying a commanding weight behind it. More whispers broke out, stopping when he continued. “We must take actions to protect Derridas, but it is of the utmost importance that we act with caution. They cannot know what we are doing, lest they turn their attentions to us prematurely.”
“If the duke says so, then perhaps we should be worried,” said one person.
“I’m still not sure. What would Minenblum have to gain by attacking us, too?”
“Fool, do you think those war-crazed bastards care about gains? They would send an admiral to slaughter a mouse if they thought it would spread their reputation!” another cried.
“I didn’t gather you all just to berate you. I have been working with my network to develop a strategy. For a century, there has been relative peace among the nations of the Bluestone Sea, but I have known this time was coming,” the woman began once more.
“What?”
“Since when was the Duchess psychic?”
Ignoring the ridiculous comments that a few of those in attendance muttered in response to her declaration, the woman continued her explanation.
“I have not been idle. Knowing that war was coming, I made inroads with the other nations. Derridas is rich. We are powerful, but compared to Minenblum we are not worth mentioning. However, what if we were to join hands with Zoria and the Emerlan Isle?”
“Outrageous!”
“I will never sit at the same table with those sand-munching bastards!”
The man tapped his fingers on the table. The chatter continued, but the volume dropped to a hushed level.
“Duchess Wildvayne, it seems you are smarter than most of the great men in this room,” the man chuckled, causing quite a few of the others to glare at him with undisguised venom.
However, they didn’t dare speak out against the man. After all, what sort of fool would insult someone who had the power to end their life in a single snap of his fingers?
“I too, expected this day to come. Perhaps not in this way, but Minenblum going on the warpath was always an inevitability. I hear their new ships are rather devastating. Hence, my own arcane engineers have been working on a rather interesting project,” he announced.
“What?”
“The prince’s own men?”
“What crazy invention will he unveil this time?”
It was well known in Derridas that the king’s brother, Prince Rowan, was enamoured by arcane engineering and the workings of the tide. In fact, he had spent vast sums of wealth to create some crazy and often useless or dangerous inventions over the years.
He had gained a reputation among the people as a mad genius. There was another title that he was known by, asides from the prince.
The Chaos Bringer.
“If the Chaos Bringer promises interesting, then I for one cannot wait to see what you have in store for us. While some of you have contentions with Zoria and disdain for the Emerlan Isle, it is impossible for us to win alone. We need allies,” the duchess replied.
Many of those gathered started to grumble and complain, but a few nodded their heads begrudgingly. However, there were still many who in their hearts could not resolve old grudges.
“I wish to explain my strategy by which we will bring Minenblum to its knees, but first I must know that nothing I say here will leave this room,” she declared, raising her cup of tea and taking a sip.
As she did this, she allowed her gaze to sweep the room and rest on every individual present. “Ladies and gentlemen. I need your confirmation,” she said.
“My lips are sealed, dear Duchess,” a woman to her left replied.
“I am not sure I agree with you, but even so I will not betray your confidence,” a young man stated.
“To be frank, I think you and the prince are mistaken. However, I wish to know what you are planning and will not breathe a word outside this room,” an elderly gentleman said.
Of those who agreed to remain silent, most of them fell into three camps, agreeing with the first people to speak. However, there were still a few who refused to consent.
“How can we possibly promise such a thing? You go too far, Windvayne!” one grey-haired woman spat.
“Indeed. Remember your place,” one man said with venom in his tone.
Of course, among the elites there was always bound to be tension. The duchess had expected some resistance. Usually among their group, disagreements were allowed to be settled by the affected parties.
However, this time the importance of the matters being discussed was too great. She could not allow a single whisper to slip out of this dark room.
With a regretful sigh, the duchess placed her cup of tea back onto the china saucer. It made a gentle clink. “Truly, delicious tea,” she said wistfully, staring into the wet leaves at the bottom of her cup.
“Did you know, as a girl my mother taught me how to read the leaves,” she chuckled. “She was a rather eccentric woman. Do you know what I see in the leaves now, my old friends?” she asked the group.
All of them had confused expressions on their faces, unsure of where she was going with this tangent. Only one person had a slight smile on his face—the prince.
Seeing that no one was going to respond, the duchess carried on. “I see our great nation etched into the annals of history forever, leading the overthrow of tyrants. Those of you who have chosen to hear me out are among the brightest minds in this nation. Those of you who have not… have no place in the new world,” she finished.
Everyone in the room had a little talent in sensing or manipulating arcane energy. Hence, they were all able to feel the pulse that burst from the duchess’ core into their own bodies.
The keen-eyed among them noticed that the pulse didn’t enter the bodies of those who had agreed to remain silent, only those who spoke out against her. The prince’s smirk widened into a brilliant grin.
“Perhaps you should be the one they call Chaos Bringer, my dear, delightful Duchess,” the prince cackled as the first of her victims coughed and spat blood across the table.
“You! Bitch… I curse-” the old woman spat, right before her head smashed against the stone table.
“Wha-”
“How!?”
The exclamations of surprise and shock rippled around the room as every single person who had stood against Duchess Windvayne fell dead. She sighed once more, staring deeply into her empty teacup.
“Truly a waste of good tea,” she muttered.
The rest of the room was silent. Some had smiles on their faces as those who had died were among their rivals, while others were in shock. None dared to condemn her for her actions however, knowing that they had drunk the same tea as the dead.
“Now that we’ve finished with that unpleasant business, let us discuss more important matters. Let me tell you how Derridas will become the new hegemon of the Bluestone Sea,” the duchess said with a soft smile and a sparkle in her eyes.
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