"Don't hesitate! Surrender now, and you might have a chance to survive by surrendering to the Great Duke. Saving your life is the most important thing!"
"You coward! That Ross man killed so many of our people, and you actually want to surrender? Do you really think he'll spare you if you lick Yaroslav's boots?"
"So, we should just mindlessly fight to the end? You fool, may the gods grant you wisdom to see the situation clearly. We can't possibly turn this around."
"You are all cowards! We should sally out and fight the Ross men to the death! Jumar (Note 1) will favor us!"
Noise filled Alar's hall, as Chud chieftains, dressed in various styles, argued over their future. Their faces were flushed, their necks strained, and they occasionally waved their fists to show their resolve, or simply stormed out in anger. Some even came to blows, as if that would strengthen their say.
The relationships among this group were truly complex; everything from allies to enemies existed here. Even when Alar led the Chud, he couldn't get these people to sit together. Yet, the Ross men, arriving with fire and sword, managed to do so. It was truly ironic.
Alar sat upright on a pine bench, a large amber ornament on his neck, a rare item even in this amber-producing region.
Young guards, fully armed with axes, stood by their lord, demonstrating his power as a ruler.
The Chud warlord's fingers tapped rhythmically up and down on the armrest, as he watched the noisy scene before him with indifference.
This group of people were the most powerful in Estonia, yet now they were squabbling like village women, their voices hoarse.
How unsightly.
Alar looked at the bickering chieftains with disdain, as if watching a group of jesters performing a farce.
After the battle of Yuryev, they had discarded him like trash, but now they clung to him like sticky candy, impossible to shake off.
When the Ross Army entered, Alar realized that the Ross men had grand ambitions. Yaroslav intended to root them out this time. For this, he had run around, trying to gather forces, but no one listened to him. Even the most pessimistic about the Ross invasion believed that this army was only coming to kill him, Alar, and would not affect others.
Everyone scorned his efforts, scorned his envoys, and even impaled the envoys' heads on spears, claiming it was revenge for the tribesmen he had led to their deaths. Alar found this ridiculous. If they wanted revenge so badly, why didn't they go find the Ross men?
Now, things were different. The Ross men had bathed this land in fire and sword, and these short-sighted fools finally realized the truth of his words and stood by him. But now, even with his own troops, it wasn't enough to fight the Ross men.
There were only a thousand men in this Mountain Stronghold, the last of Estonia's elite. The rest were either killed or enslaved.
What angered Alar even more was that these stray dogs were still plotting under his nose, and their schemes only made him laugh.
However, speaking of plots, Alar couldn't help but think of his "ally" in Kiev. Well, his great gamble had failed, and now he was merely a test pawn for that person…
Suddenly, the discussions ceased, as the hall's main door opened. The envoy Alar had sent to negotiate with the Ross men had returned.
Everyone's gaze turned to the envoy, even the most fervent warmongers. Everyone wanted to know the outcome of the negotiations with Yaroslav.
Alar also awoke from his reverie. He understood that the main act was about to begin, in every sense of the word.
"My lord, Yaroslav explicitly stated that negotiation with us is impossible. All the hostages sent were also returned."
This grim news caused an uproar in the hall. People's faces were filled with tension and panic. Most still hoped for negotiations; they did not want to die. Now, the door to negotiation was completely blocked, and even the hostages were returned. These hostages were the closest relatives of the chieftains present. The Great Duke Rostislav truly intended to root them out.
Alar remained outwardly indifferent, but his hand quietly rested on his sword hilt. The crucial moment was about to arrive.
"Alar, shouldn't you be responsible for all of this?"
Sure enough, such a voice emerged from the crowd. The entire hall fell silent again. Everyone looked at Alar on the main seat, waiting for his reply, while also exerting unspoken pressure on him.
"Tsk, why be so secretive?"
Alar's disdain grew stronger.
"You want to use my head to appease the Ross men. Just say it directly. All this pretense is truly unnecessary."
Alar's single statement revealed the true intention behind that voice. He had long known that many intended to use his head to appease the Ross men, but given the stance the Ross men had taken, his head alone would not be enough to satisfy them.
But just as a drowning person clutches at anything they can find, these people naturally saw offering his head as their last straw for salvation.
Seeing Alar's reply, the person who had called out did not follow the pre-planned script. Instead, half of those present stepped out of the crowd, drawing their swords. The non-participants retreated to the back half of the hall, watching how the situation would unfold.
"Since you understand, then we won't pretend anymore."
A chieftain with a rough beard said, holding his sword.
"We need your head, Alar. Don't expect your men to come to your rescue; they've already been dealt with."
"Oh? Really?"
Alar drew a dagger, toyed with it, then smashed it against a nearby clay pot.
The broken pot made a crisp sound. With this sound, the closed door opened again. The non-participants quickly made way, allowing fully armed warriors to pour into the hall. Without any hesitation, they immediately began slaughtering the coup plotters. From a side door near Alar, armored soldiers also emerged, protecting their lord behind them.
The Chud chieftains attempting the coup had not expected Alar to pull such a move. These guards should have been under their control.
Now they could only fight the warriors' armor and battle axes with their cloth clothes and swords, and the outcome was naturally self-evident.
With a series of horrific screams, the lord's hall became a sea of blood. The floor was covered with mutilated human limbs. The warriors' armor was stained red with the blood of the dead. All the coup plotters were slaughtered like piglets awaiting slaughter, while the non-participants trembled in the back, fearing they would be next.
"I think, now everyone should have no objections."
Alar on the main seat smiled, but no one dared to respond.
— — — — — — — —
Note 1: The Estonian name for the sky god in Finno-Ugric mythology. It has other names in other Finn-populated areas, all referring to the same entity.