Chapter 102 – The Signed Alliance
The great hall of Eisenwald was filled with the faint scent of incense and the metallic echo of armored boots. Today was no ordinary day. Fenrir sat upon the baronial chair not merely as the lord of the marshlands, but as a man who sought to carve history with ink rather than steel.
Before him stretched a long table. Scrolls lay unrolled, candles flickered steadily, and a vast map displayed the arteries of trade between Eisenwald, Kessler, and Mühlberg. Behind Fenrir stood his newly appointed administrators—merchants, scribes, and legal minds—ready to bear witness.
Fenrir rose. His gaze swept across the chamber.
"Today Eisenwald does not speak through the edge of a blade. Today we etch a pact into history."
---
From the east came Baron Kessler, his robes of fine cloth brushing against the floor. His body was plump, but his eyes were sharp, the eyes of a merchant forever counting gains and losses.
From the south entered Baron Mühlberg, aged and frail, his hair snow-white, his steps unsteady. Yet his gaze remained cautious, the eyes of one who had endured by bowing when necessary.
Fenrir greeted both with measured respect, without lavish ceremony. "Welcome to Eisenwald. You come as guests—let us see if you leave as allies."
---
The documents were placed upon the table. Quills and inkpots were set ready.
Fenrir spoke first, his tone calm but pressing:
"This agreement rests upon three pillars:
1. Trade – Falkenrath's steel and Eisenwald's grain will flow to your lands at fair, fixed prices.
2. Defense – Should either barony be threatened by hostile neighbors, Eisenwald will send aid.
3. Neutrality and Alliance – Neither Kessler nor Mühlberg shall lend support—open or hidden—to Hohenberg, Falkenhain, or Drachenfels."
Baron Kessler tapped the table with his finger, his face a mask of calculation. "If your soldiers truly keep my roads safe, the profit alone makes this pact worthwhile. I agree."
Baron Mühlberg coughed softly, his voice trembling. "I am but an old man, with little strength left. If you promise protection for my people, then my hand will sign."
---
The scratch of quills echoed in the hall as the signatures were laid down—Kessler, then Mühlberg, and finally Fenrir von Eisenwald.
The parchment now bore three names, tied by oath.
The administrators clapped. Soldiers struck their spears against the floor in thunderous rhythm, like drums of war—but this time, it marked a victory of diplomacy.
---
"Remarkable, my lord," said Darius Holt, pride in his voice. "With these allies, our enemies cannot so easily encircle us."
Selene Aestra's smile was sharp. "This pact shows more than strength—it shows influence. And influence spreads faster than steel."
Kael Morgenstern, standing like a sentinel, inclined his head. "Many men can lead armies. Few can bind other lords with words. This is strength of another kind."
Fenrir gave only a faint smile. "Diplomacy is war without blood. Today, we have won such a battle."
---
But Lyra Nightshade, standing at the edge of the hall, stepped forward, her voice low.
"Do not forget, my lord. Hohenberg has already placed hands within Mühlberg. This pact binds his ruler, but spies still move in the dark."
Fenrir nodded. "I know. But every chain is forged link by link. Today, the first is bound."
He turned toward the window, the light of dusk casting a crimson glow across his features. To his soldiers, he looked every bit the Crimson Wolf—a predator who conquered not only with claws, but with cunning.
---
#wanD48