Arrows were nocked. Magic gathered at the fingertips of the mages atop the wall. The air tightened as if the entire fortress were holding its breath. Yet the Tyrant King and his mad dog remained upright in their saddles, as if the threat meant nothing.
On the wall stood an old man wearing a heavy crown. No introduction was needed. He was King Damian of Alderich. The old king whispered with his advisers and commanders, clearly weighing the order to attack.
Lysander spoke first, calm but audible.
"That is not honorable, King Alderich. Attacking a messenger."
Damian snorted, then shouted with hatred. "After all the atrocities you have committed, you still dare to speak of honor? You are a demon. Killing you would be a virtue."
Jeffrey made a small sound and curled his mouth into a crooked smile, enjoying the bluntness of the curse. Lysander glanced at him for a moment, then turned his gaze back up the wall. "You are the one whose people have died, Alderich. If you had the courage to come out and fight like a true and honorable man, your people would not have to suffer. This is your cowardice."
Jeffrey watched his friend. He was always surprised by how shameless Lysander could be.
The fortress simmered. Soldiers waited for a command. Voices of commanders echoed, asking for permission to unleash a rain of arrows. Damian trembled with rage. "Shut your mouth, demon. Do not twist the facts."
Lysander suddenly called a number in a cold voice. "Thirteen thousand four hundred and sixty-one."
Silence fell. All eyes turned to their king. Damian looked down with a hard face. Lysander continued, stressing each word. "That is how many of your people have died because you chose to hide."
Some archers on the wall were already impatient, fingers tightening on bowstrings, ready to loose. But before anyone moved, Lysander spoke again, his tone now cutting.
"You may be able to kill me now if you dare to attack. But my mad dog? I doubt it. And if you do, I swear I will keep capturing your people and hunting them all, keep burning them alive. Over and over, I will burn them before your eyes until only cowards hiding behind these stones remain."
The words were a blade driven into the hearts of everyone who heard them. The soldiers who had been ready to strike slowly lowered their bows. The mages froze the spells hovering in midair. They all knew the Taurum king did not bluff. He always did what he said.
Damian fell silent. His face flushed with fury and despair, yet his eyes wavered with doubt. He wanted to give an order, but Lysander's words chained his tongue. Commanders around him pleaded for direction, but the old king stood rigid, staring down at his long-time enemy.
Lysander glanced at Jeffrey with a thin, amiable smile, as if they had just exchanged small talk rather than threatened mass slaughter. Then his face grew composed again and his eyes fixed on the fearful fortress.
He took a long breath and shouted so his voice echoed off the stone walls. "How long will you keep hiding?!"
No answer came from inside the fortress.
King Damian stood on the wall, face taut, while his commanders and soldiers crowded behind him, waiting. They all understood the truth: they could not stand against Taurum's army. Stepping out meant death.
Lysander knew this well. With that small smile he added, "If you are truly such cowards… what if this? I promise I will not touch your people again, so long as you allow my mad dog to pass through your protective ward and enter the fortress."
The fortress was wrapped in ancient magic, a faint light that formed an immovable shield. Swords, arrows, even high-level spells had been tried and failed. There was no way in unless King Alderich himself granted it. That was why Lysander was stuck where he was.
Jeffrey next to him snorted. He looked at his king with a sour expression and asked,
"Do you really intend to have me killed?"
The order was plain: go alone into the enemy fortress and face them all.
Lysander patted Jeffrey's shoulder with that infuriatingly friendly expression. "If you die, Jeff, I will have a large statue made for you," he said lightly, as if that were a consolation.
Jeffrey exhaled sharply, about to protest, but Lysander had already raised his voice toward the wall. "Come on! Can you not even handle one man? How long will you act like cowards? Do you think you can hide forever behind these walls? What if your supplies run out? In the end you will be destroyed!"
Those words crawled into the ears of those inside the fortress. People exchanged glances; their faces went pale. The enemy's claims had truth in them.
Rumors about Jeffrey made them tremble. Stories of his power read more like nightmares than reality. A few soldiers who had seen him in action argued against letting him in, insisting how dangerous that would be. But their voices were drowned by mounting desperation.
In the end, one decision had to be made.
Damian gritted his teeth and shouted from the wall, "Do you truly promise not to burn my people again if we let your mad dog in? Even if he dies at our hands?"
Lysander's smile thinned. The bait was taken. "I promise," he called firmly.
Damian still hesitated. His voice was bitter and furious as he replied, "How can I trust a demon like you?"
Lysander straightened and spoke loudly and assuredly. "I am cruel, Alderich. I have no heart. But one thing I never break is a promise. Whether it is a good promise or a vile one. Even if it harms me. Call me a heartless demon if you must, but I am a demon with principles."
Silence hung over the fortress, then Damian's voice broke again, sore but steady. "Very well… order your mad dog to enter."
Lysander looked at Jeffrey, his face bright as if he had given him a gift. "You heard that, Jeff? Go in now. Do your duty, and after that… you can retire and live in peace."
Jeffrey swallowed the curse lodged in his throat. He cursed Lysander inwardly many times. With a sour face he dismounted. Without looking back, he started toward the fortress, his steps heavy but sure, and walked into the shimmer of the protective magic.