Anno was stunned—she never expected Charles, usually the picture of calm, to suddenly explode like that and lose all composure!
Sure, his outburst was satisfying—it said everything she'd been holding back inside—but right now, they were supposed to be negotiating for an alliance, not picking a fight!
She was thrown off, flustered, and allowed Charles to pull her up and turn to leave. Nidalee, after a moment of confusion, quickly settled into a look of deep disappointment. She shot her father a glance, then stood up to follow Charles out as well.
That threw Willo, sitting beside them, into a panic: "Wait, Mr. Charles, please calm down… Luger, apologize! That last comment was totally out of line!"
She tried desperately to salvage the situation, but Luger Stonehide only rolled his eyes skyward, looking utterly indifferent.
He was just playing his part, doing his job. With a blowup like that from the other side, now it was time for Ilarode to offer some gentle words and reel things back in.
After all, his daughter was right across from him, and wasn't she already embedded in the enemy's camp?
Or so he thought, but before Ilarode could speak, Torun suddenly looked up, urgency on his face. "Wait, you guys can enter the dwarves' headquarters?"
Danche also sat up, surprised. "You're close with the Griffon Knights?"
Charles paused, lips curling slightly. He turned, giving them a deliberately provocative look. "You folks really ought to update your intel. If you'd paid any real attention to allied movements in the mountains, you'd have noticed the dwarves inked a deep partnership with Blackstaff Tower ages ago."
He pointed at Anno with pride, "Right now, the official embassy posted at the dwarves' Mining Consortium HQ is none other than her—Anno Amcastra! Even the lieutenant commander of the Griffon Knights will do her a favor!"
Anno thought to herself, That's kind of a stretch, isn't it? Technically, Blackstaff Tower made me the liaison, but honestly, the dwarves really just bend over backward for you.
The real reason, she recalled, was because back at HQ Charles always got along with the dwarves, sharing drinks and jokes, while she was always driving hard bargains at the negotiation table and nagging them to finish drafts—so most dwarves called her "the crazy woman who can't handle a hot scone" behind her back.
But she'd never undermine her boyfriend in public. She lifted her chin and nodded seriously, "That's right. But this has no bearing on today's negotiations."
Her gaze locked on Luger. "The alliance's attitude toward cooperation is a real disappointment. We're not seeing any sincerity, so we're leaving."
She turned and addressed Willo: "Sorry, Matriarch Willo, thank you for your hospitality these past few days. We'll report the Ines incident as agreed. I hope we meet again on friendly terms."
With that, she turned, adamant, ready to leave with Charles.
Ilarode was just about to speak when Torun panicked. He shot up, his huge hand reaching out. "Wait, Madam Anno!"
Charles didn't break stride, and Anno kept pace with him. Torun, desperate, hurried to say, "On behalf of Luger, I apologize. He's just got a harsh way of talking; please, try not to take it to heart."
Luger turned away, saying nothing, inwardly puzzled. Why was Torun suddenly caving? This wasn't how the game plan went at all.
Charles and Anno stopped. They were about to respond when, out of nowhere, Willo rushed up and threw her arms around Anno from behind. "Don't go..."
"Please, Madam Anno, Mr. Charles, come back and talk some more…"
Her voice bordered on begging, and in an instant, the whole tent's atmosphere turned tender and strange. Luger's eyes flicked to Willo—she's really doing this? Does this mean the Matriarch is actually mad at them, maybe even at Stonehide Tribe?
Crap, maybe I ought to apologize too? Torun's suddenly rolled over, so if I hold out, I'll be the only one left out to dry…
He weighed his options, his eyes wandering, but instantly shrank back with terror when Charles's cold gaze landed on him.
Over where Willo clung to her, Anno's heart softened. She turned and hugged Willo back, giving her a gentle pat on the back and then lifting her eyes to Torun, using the opportunity to step down: "Let's hope this is the last time. Respect for each other is the only real basis for partnership."
Torun seethed, but now it was his turn to swallow his pride: "Let's hope for a fair chance to work together."
Anno tugged Charles's hand, gently urging him, "They did apologize. Let's stay and continue the talks."
Charles sat down with a dark face, wordless, acting like he was still barely containing his anger. Nidalee suppressed a laugh, barely keeping up her mask of disappointment as she kept staring at her father.
From here, things went much smoother. Torun stopped picking at every detail and started earnestly reading the proposal, discussing the specifics quietly with Anno.
Anno, for her part, pondered and jotted down revisions all over the draft, formulating new ideas to send back to Blackstaff Tower for the higher-ups to review.
Willo, meanwhile, wiped away her tears, a relieved smile on her lips, listening quietly, asking the occasional question, or making suggestions—like the use of satyr natural magic—to help contribute to the cooperation plan.
After more than an hour, the proposal was practically rewritten from top to bottom. At last, Torun spoke up, now the picture of reason, "After the demon raid, many of the alliance's smaller tribes have gone missing. As things stand, five thousand soldiers really is the sum of our actual fighting force."
"If we send that many to hunt down the fiends, we have nobody to defend HQ, no one to wield axes or saws, all construction work stops dead."
"That's our struggle." He sighed, then suddenly changed tack. "But the Highmountain tribe numbers around ten thousand. Every adult, male or female, gets battle training."
"So—if you can help us purchase some heavy metal weapons, just our tribe alone could send out three thousand warriors without batting an eye."
Danche looked like he wanted to bring up his own tribe's needs, but, catching Torun's glance and Charles's scowl, he swallowed his words.
Anno, crunching all the numbers in her head, was just about to agree—after all, they got discounts buying weapons from dwarves—when Charles suddenly cut in, "We'll help spot you some cash; you buy what you need from the dwarves. Simple as that."
Anno fell silent, while Torun looked awkward: "Uh… there's, uh, some history. The alliance has a few small misunderstandings with the dwarves right now…"
Misunderstandings? The destruction of Rockseeker's Outpost is just a "misunderstanding"?
Charles scoffed inwardly, then shook his head: "Oh, well, then there's not much we can do. Everyone knows dwarves hold a grudge. No one can talk them out of it."
Torun, clearly humbled and none of his earlier bravado left, said, "So… could Madam Anno maybe help smooth things over? With the enemy at our doorstep, this is the time to join forces…"
Luger snapped his head to Torun, suddenly getting it—so that's why Torun caved. They needed help getting dwarven weapons!
Tribes aren't all the same; everyone's problems, everyone's priorities, are totally different. Stonehide Tribe could just "go bear," teeth and claws their best weapons, but minotaurs needed massive steel arms to really bring the pain.
Highmountain had hoped that after ransacking Rockseeker's Outpost, they'd be flush with weaponry, able to loot and expand, fighting war after war with no worries for years.
But they never saw the demon raid coming so soon. Now, they were broke, starving, weaponless, tool-less—even lacking construction materials.
So after burning every bridge with the dwarves, all they could do was suck it up and beg the only folks who could put in a good word for them to help.
Anno suddenly understood.
So that's why Charles lost his temper earlier—he knew they needed dwarven tools, and we're the only ones in their circle with the reputation to get them in the door!
So that's it!
With everything suddenly clear, Anno covertly smiled, then pinched Charles's side under the table, replying off-hand, "I'll see what I can do, but dwarves take grudges seriously. I can try, but this can't be rushed. We don't want to stir up more trouble."
Torun fought his irritation, but knew he had to consider his tribe first, so he forced a fawning smile: "Then… please put in a word for us, Madam Anno."
With that, this heated conference finally wrapped.
Walking out, Willo's expression was still a bit stunned. Seeing Torun and the rest be so aggressive, watching Charles get up and nearly storm out—at that moment, tears had streamed down her face as she hugged Anno, desperate to keep the peace.
But she never dreamed that all that drama would actually prompt Torun to back down, making the summit go smoother than she ever thought possible—what she expected would take rounds and rounds of negotiation wrapped up in under two hours.
She kept glancing at Charles, at the stern angles of his face, and couldn't help but wonder—this gentle-seeming young man, when he's angry, has enough force to make guys like Torun and Luger freeze up?
Recalling the way Luger clammed up, how Torun instantly flipped to deferential after Charles blew up—so different from how they'd all ignored her before—Willo couldn't help but feel a real curiosity toward Charles.
Anno, by contrast, just looked relieved and a little pleased, glad their first round of plans had gone off smoothly.
Thinking back on the whole negotiation, she suddenly elbowed Charles at her hip with a mischievous grin. "Why didn't you tell me you were planning on blowing up like that? I thought you were really going to leave!"
Charles sucked air through his teeth at her pinch, quickly hugging her with a pleading look: "Ow—Anno, ease up! I didn't plan to lose my temper, honestly! I hoped we'd talk things through…"
"I just didn't expect them to double-cross us. If we kept backing down, they'd only get bolder. Sometimes you have to threaten to flip the table or they'll never meet you halfway."
"Unity through struggle, right? Compromising only gets you nowhere."
Unity through struggle, huh?
Anno's eyes shone—a vague, half-formed inspiration suddenly made crystal clear. She almost felt like tackling him out of pure giddiness.
Willo, not one for confrontation by nature, found herself begrudgingly agreeing. Even she couldn't deny that this young man's mind worked on a level she couldn't match.
Charles, for his part, wasn't even aware she was watching. He looked off into the distance and spotted Danche lingering nearby, frowning to himself.
He'd noticed at the table how Danche had hardly said a word—sure, he sat with Torun and the others, but he didn't seem truly "team spirit."
Turning back to Willo, Charles asked, "By the way, how's Danche doing lately? Where does he really stand? He seemed pretty quiet just now."
Willo's smile faded a little. "It's complicated. His tribe split into two factions. Danche wants to fight the demons, but after he was trapped in a cave-in, the anti-Liberl Port faction took over."
"Now, with the demons wrecking everything, and the old tribal settlements gone, even he doesn't know what to do…"
Charles nodded, thinking. "Hold on." He glanced to Anno. "You go report to headquarters. I'm going to go talk with Danche."
With that, he let go of Anno and made his way toward the Chimera tribe's camp.
Danche himself had just left the others, heading back to his tribe's settlement.
The brawny, brown-skinned half-orc was now bundled up in thick animal furs to fight off the chill.
When he saw Charles approach, his face instantly grew complicated, finally stiffening into a scowl. "What are you here for?"
Charles smiled. "Isn't it normal to check in with old friends?"
Danche scoffed, looking away. "Friends? Please. We're enemies. I haven't forgotten about Barbary, either. Don't get friendly with me."
He still often thought of his loyal, sturdy chimera, and those memories festered like an old wound.
Charles laughed. "Oh, c'mon, we're allies for now. Shouldn't we work together to take down the demons?"
Danche grunted. "Sure, for now. But after the demons are gone, you're still my enemy."
Charles shrugged thoughtfully. "Well, in that case, maybe I should hold back against the demons a bit, draw out our 'alliance' a little longer."
Danche snapped, "You—!"
Charles waved him off, grinning. "Relax, I'm just joking."
He moved closer and suddenly changed the subject. "Say, you interested in griffons?"
Danche denied it instantly. "No."
Charles feigned disappointment. "Is that so? I thought you might like to meet the Griffon Knights. To be honest, I know their second lieutenant pretty well. We used to have drinks together all the time at dwarven HQ…"
"But, hey, if you're not interested, forget I said anything."
Danche's face twisted in silent agony as he watched Charles start to walk away, but he just couldn't bring himself to swallow his pride and ask.
Charles laughed inwardly—this guy didn't have Torun's knack for sucking up when needed.
He decided not to push further. "Look, how about this—I've got a question for you. Help me out, and I'll introduce you to the lieutenant. Sound good?"
Danche nodded, seizing the opportunity to save face. "Fine."
Now, this is how real mountain folk are—straightforward, Charles thought, and then continued, "Honestly, I'm a scholar, and I've always been curious about how you mountain folk pass down leadership—how's a new chief chosen?"
Danche seemed uninterested. "Nothing fancy, we go by the firstborn son. All the big tribes in the alliance do it that way."
"How about eldest daughters?" Charles's heart skipped—if Nidalee wanted to take charge of the alliance, this could get tricky.
"Not us, or Highmountain, or Stonehide. For Mountaineer and Green Vines, that's different; they don't care about birth order, they give it to the druid with the most mana."
Charles breathed a small sigh of relief and then pressed on. "So, Torun, Luger, and you—you're all firstborns?"
"Not exactly." Danche shook his head. "None of us has inherited yet. Our fathers are old, but they're not out of it yet. Shouldn't be long, though—once the demons are gone, all three of us will probably take over our tribes."
"Oh." Charles nodded. "So you're not the strongest out of all your brothers and sisters?"
Danche shot him a sharp look. "No. My chimera died, so I'm actually the weakest of all my siblings right now!"
Charles winced, hands up in surrender. "Sorry, I didn't mean to rub it in. I'm sure you used to be the strongest."
"Whatever. What about Torun and Luger?"
Danche's eyes dropped. "Don't know about Luger, but Torun really is the strongest of his generation—a beast, even by his tribe's standards."
"You probably heard—he's a Barbarian of the Path of the Ancestors. That means his status isn't just chosen by his father, but recognized by all the ancestors, too."
Charles's eyes widened. "He's really that exceptional?"
Didn't seem that way to me!
"He is." Danche replied. "His brothers and sisters are all ambitious, but his strength just squashes them all."
Suddenly, Charles understood, then looked curious. "So, what if… just what if, say, in the war against the fiends, a certain tribe's firstborn died—would the siblings get to take over?"
Danche thought it over. "That could happen. But who actually gets picked? That would probably cause a ton of fighting. Firstborn gets default dibs, but if they're gone, choosing a new chief turns into a real free-for-all."
So, a bloody multi-way struggle to inherit? Civil war? Factional chaos?
In his mind, Charles started picturing how Highmountain would fall into chaos "if something happened" to Torun. He couldn't help but show a small, cruel smile at the corner of his mouth.
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