Thalindra's revelation earned Sylvaris's cautious, provisional support — not the full military alliance Seraphine had hoped for, but access to the enclave's considerable magical knowledge and a promise to reconsider full involvement should the threat prove as significant as our evidence suggested. It was, Kai assured me afterward, a considerably better outcome than most diplomatic missions to Sylvaris ever achieved.
Our convoy turned south next, toward the wide, wind-swept grasslands the beastkin tribes called home — a culture built, according to Kai's careful briefing during the journey, around clan loyalty, personal honor, and a deep, functional distrust of centralized authority that made traditional diplomacy considerably more complicated than the structured courtesies of Sylvaris or Kaldrath.
"You don't negotiate with the beastkin plains as a unified political entity," Kai explained as our convoy crested a final ridge overlooking the vast, rolling grassland beyond. "There isn't one. Dozens of clans, each fiercely independent, connected mostly through shared culture and an annual gathering called the Convergence, which — lucky for us — happens to be starting in about three days."
The Convergence, when we finally reached it, proved to be a sprawling, chaotic celebration spread across a temporary tent city larger than most of the human settlements I'd passed through — beastkin from dozens of distinct clans, ranging from wolf-like warriors to graceful, deer-horned scouts to massive, bear-built craftsmen, all gathered in a rare display of unified cultural celebration that made our diplomatic approach considerably more delicate than a simple audience with a single ruler would have been.
Seraphine, wisely, deferred much of the actual negotiation to a beastkin liaison Kaldrath had cultivated over years of careful, respectful trade relations — a sharp-eyed fox-kin woman named Vashti who clearly commanded considerable respect across multiple clans despite her own relatively modest standing within any single one.
"You'll need to earn a hearing before the full Convergence council," Vashti warned us, guiding our party through the tent city's chaotic, colorful sprawl. "Words alone won't do it, not for a threat this large. The clans respect demonstrated strength and demonstrated honesty in roughly equal measure. Show weakness in either, and you'll find every clan chief suddenly very busy with matters that don't concern your coalition at all."
The council, when it finally convened that evening around a massive central bonfire, consisted of representatives from over twenty distinct clans, each bringing their own particular skepticism and their own particular questions. I answered as honestly as I had with Thalindra, laying out the full scope of the threat without exaggeration or diplomatic softening, and found, somewhat to my surprise, that the beastkin council's directness suited my own increasingly weary patience with careful political maneuvering.
A massive bear-kin chieftain, introduced as Grommash of the Ironclaw clan, finally spoke after a long silence following my account. "You ask us to send warriors to fight a war against something that tears holes in the sky itself. Beastkin do not fear death, outsider — we fear dying for a cause that isn't truly ours to bear. Convince me this threat comes for the plains as surely as it comes for your human kingdoms, and you'll have more support than your princess's diplomacy alone could ever purchase."
I thought of the Ashwound, three hundred years dead and still poisoning the earth beneath it. "The Grey Sovereign's forces don't discriminate by culture or kingdom," I said. "The village that first faced them was human, hidden, and entirely unaligned with any larger power. If this war comes, Chieftain Grommash, I believe it comes for everyone equally, whether we're ready for it together or divided and unprepared."
Grommash studied me for a long moment across the bonfire's flickering light, then let out a short, rough laugh that carried more genuine respect than mockery. "A god who speaks plainly instead of dressing threats up in flowery diplomatic language. That's rarer than you'd think, outsider. I cannot commit every clan gathered here tonight — that decision belongs to each chieftain individually, and beastkin do not bind each other's choices lightly. But the Ironclaw clan will stand with your coalition when the time comes. I suspect, watching the fires of tonight's council, that others will follow before this Convergence disperses."
By the time our convoy departed the Beastkin Plains four days later, seven clans had pledged support, with several more promising serious consideration before the season's end — a fractious, imperfect alliance, but a genuine one, built on honesty rather than mere political convenience.