Chapter 175: The Full Picture (Double Chapter)
The surrender negotiations in the temporary tent had been going on for some time.
Sebas sat upright on the hastily laid hide-skin rug the beastmen had put out for him. His black tailcoat didn't have a single crease. His grey-white hair caught the light with a faint silver sheen.
Both hands rested on his knees, back perfectly straight. The fact that no one in the tent could have stood against him for even one exchange hadn't made him any less composed.
Across from him, the tiger-head beastman Bazel had arranged his face into an expression of enthusiastic goodwill.
Those tiger eyes were slightly narrowed, the smile calibrated to fall just short of openly fawning, but if he determined that this dragon actually liked fawning, Bazel was entirely prepared to widen that smile all the way to his ears.
The chief of the Steel Fang Tribe had let go of his obsession with human flesh a great deal sooner than he might have under different circumstances.
There are desires that wilt quickly when they encounter a sufficiently large gap in strength.
The defeat would fall primarily on the beastman king's shoulders; the people's fury would find its target there. But as the designated negotiator for the surrender, Bazel still intended to squeeze out whatever improvements to the terms he could manage.
If he could do that, he could turn the negotiation itself into a credential. Combined with the support the beastman king had already promised him, it would be a foundation to stand on.
Once the beastman king stepped down in disgrace, Bazel would be a serious contender for the throne.
He knew the three conditions couldn't be refused. He'd already accepted that. But there was still room to work the implementation.
"Sebas-sama," Bazel said, his posture a masterclass in deference, "the three conditions you have put forward, the beastman nation accepts them in full. This is your generosity, Sebas-sama. We were the ones who failed to recognize it."
As he said it, he lowered his head until his forehead nearly touched the low table between them.
The orange-and-black tiger face under the oil lamp looked slightly comical, but the sincerity in his voice was harder to dismiss.
Sebas gave a small nod. He didn't speak.
Bazel straightened up and stole a quick look at the old man's expression. No sign of impatience. He let out a carefully concealed breath of relief.
He really is the soft-spoken type, Bazel thought privately. This dragon doesn't respond to force. But softness —
"However," Bazel said, shifting to a look of genuine difficulty, "Sebas-sama, you know how vast the beastman nation is, and how different the situation is from tribe to tribe. The matter of withdrawing from Dragon Kingdom territory... is not something that can be accomplished in a day."
He spread his thick tiger paws in a gesture of helplessness.
"The beastman civilians who've already settled in Dragon Kingdom territory: they have families, belongings. You can't simply order them out immediately. They need time to gather their things and find somewhere else to go."
Sebas's brow moved slightly.
Bazel caught it and pressed on immediately. "And then there's releasing the humans and changing the law. Sebas-sama, you have no idea how entrenched the conservative factions are. Those old holdouts have taken pride in eating humans for generations. Push them too quickly and it'll backfire."
He lowered his head again, letting a note of what sounded almost like genuine distress into his voice.
"The beastman king is the king of the beastman nation, but many decisions aren't his alone to make. To change the thinking of the majority, it takes time to work through it properly."
Sebas was quiet for a moment, then spoke carefully.
"Chief Bazel. What you are saying is, you need time?"
"Yes, yes, exactly!" Bazel nodded several times. "Time: if you would simply give us a little more time, I guarantee—"
"How long?"
Bazel went still.
He hadn't expected that to work. He had only been laying out a little bit of difficulty, and the dragon had already indicated flexibility.
Before this, Bazel had offered gold and beastman women. Neither had moved Sebas at all.
Well. This is a dragon who has no interest in wealth or female company.
Bazel realized he had been carrying entirely the wrong set of assumptions about dragons. The one in front of him was not someone who could be read by ordinary logic.
He made his decision. The beastman king's promises weren't worth much. This reasonable dragon in front of him was a better bet.
Bazel snapped his head up. The accommodating expression on that tiger face shifted abruptly into something close to grim resolution.
"Sebas-sama. I'll be honest with you."
His voice dropped. Something complicated moved through those tiger eyes.
"The beastman king has no real intention of honoring your terms. Whatever he agrees to now is to buy time. The moment he's recovered, he'll find a way to go back on every word. He'll move against the Dragon Kingdom again."
Sebas's brow drew together immediately.
Bazel saw the change and put everything he had on the table.
"The truth is, I've never liked the taste of human flesh." He straightened his posture, those tiger eyes carrying what looked like genuine conviction. "Humans are thinking creatures. They laugh and cry just like we do. How could they be food? But under the beastman king's authority, I went along with it to fit in, forced to pretend I enjoyed it."
He paused and drew a slow breath.
"Sebas-sama. If you would support my claim to become the new beastman king, I give you my word: your three conditions will be carried out as quickly and as thoroughly as possible."
The tent went quiet.
Sebas sat with it for a moment. He wasn't sure whether to believe this tiger-head beastman or whether he should wait and ask for Lord Lucian's judgment first.
"Chief Bazel." His voice was level. "Your proposal requires consideration."
Bazel's heart dropped slightly. He read it as a polite deflection — but nothing showed on his face.
"Of course, of course." He nodded immediately. "A matter this significant calls for care. I can—"
He didn't finish.
A [Message] spell connected to Sebas's mind.
"Sebas-sama!" The voice was the Aindra domain's accompanying cleric, nearly breaking with urgency. "The camp has been hit by a large beastman attack! Lord Aindra is fighting. Please come immediately!"
Sebas's expression froze in place. The warmth in his eyes dropped to nothing.
Bazel hadn't yet processed what had just happened when he saw the old man across from him stand up.
The movement was so fast it was almost like a skip in time, one moment seated, the next standing directly in front of him.
"Sebas-sama—" Bazel started to say.
A fist filled his entire field of vision.
The displaced air tore through the space between them, carrying a force that would have reduced steel to rubble, driving straight at his face.
Bazel's tiger pupils contracted sharply. His body moved to dodge before his mind gave the order, but the fist was too fast. He couldn't even finish registering fear.
The fist stopped.
Less than an inch from the tip of his nose.
The pressure wave washed across his face, pulling the orange-and-black tiger skin taut against the bone beneath, flipping his eyelids back.
Behind him, the tent's support frame let out a groan. The canvas tore along one seam from the displaced air, and the entire temporary structure collapsed in a single rush.
Dust everywhere.
Bazel was on his knees in the rubble, gasping. His ears were ringing. His eyes were full of raw fear.
Several seconds passed before he registered that he was still alive.
"Se-Sebas-sama..." His voice was shaking.
Sebas stood in front of him, fist still suspended in the air.
Anger burned in those pale grey eyes. But he was working to hold it back, because he was remembering what Bazel had said moments ago about opposing the beastman king.
"The beastman king sent you here to occupy my attention," Sebas said, his voice cold enough to have been pulled from a deep cellar. "And then arranged an attack on Lord Lucian. Is that it?"
Bazel shook his head with everything he had. His tiger tail was tucked between his legs, trembling. Every trace of the tribal chief's bearing had completely left him.
"No! Absolutely not!" His voice was hoarse. "Sebas-sama, the beastman king forced me to come to these negotiations. I had no idea. I knew nothing."
He said it while pressing his own tiger paw flat against his chest, the fleshy pad making a hollow sound with each impact.
"Sebas-sama, everything I said before: every word was true. I've resented the beastman king for a long time. Why would I come here willingly to die?"
Sebas looked at him for several seconds.
Those pale grey eyes moved over him like two blades, cutting through his expression from top to bottom.
Then Sebas withdrew his fist.
He turned away without giving Bazel another look, and his figure disappeared through the gap in the collapsed tent.
Bazel sat in the wreckage and breathed.
His chest heaved. His heart was hammering at his throat.
It took a long time before he slowly pushed himself back to his feet. In those tiger eyes, the fear receded by degrees, replaced by fury he could no longer contain.
The rage of being used as a disposable piece. The humiliation of being manipulated.
"Beastman king..." He pushed the words out through his teeth, his fangs catching the light with a cold gleam. "You wanted me dead?"
He stood and brushed the dust from himself.
His tail was still trembling faintly. But the look in those tiger eyes had gone back to what it usually was, the fear swallowed and ground up and buried somewhere deep.
The cringing submissiveness he'd worn in front of Sebas was completely gone from that tiger face.
The sharp, cold authority of a tribal chief had taken its place.
"With me," he said, his voice low and flat.
Several tiger-head beastmen came running from nearby and dropped to one knee in front of him.
"Chief — are you alright?" One of them glanced up carefully at the collapsed tent, then lowered their head again quickly.
"Fine." Bazel worked his jaw, feeling out the numbness the displaced air had left behind. "Gather every clansman still capable of fighting. Follow me."
"Where are we going?"
Bazel's gaze went toward the direction where the beastman nation's surviving forces were camped. The killing intent in those tiger eyes was fully visible.
"To see His Majesty."
The way he said "His Majesty", those two words, carried a weight that left no room for misreading.
The beastman nation's remaining army had made camp in a relatively flat stretch of valley.
Compared with the sight of one hundred thousand soldiers assembled a few days ago, the camp now looked diminished and threadbare.
Tents listed at odd angles. A few hadn't been re-erected at all and lay flat on the ground where they'd fallen.
The campfires were scattered and weak, their light falling across the faces of beastmen who had nothing left in their expressions, all of it burned out and grey.
The groans of the wounded came from every corner, rising and falling without pause, mixed with the sound of the night wind moving through the empty valley.
"Your Majesty! Chief Bazel is back!"
A sentry's shout broke the quiet of the camp.
The beastman king was sitting inside his tent, the largest one. His golden lion mane had lost some of its brightness.
When he heard the sentry's voice, his ears moved slightly. Something flashed through his eyes too quickly to name.
The tent flap was pushed aside. Bazel walked in with a dozen tiger-head beastmen behind him.
His stride was steady. The authority in his bearing was considerably harder than when he had left, nothing at all like the chief who had been on his knees shaking under Sebas's fist.
The beastman king felt something lurch in his chest when he saw it.
His expression didn't change.
"Chief Bazel." The beastman king rose from his stone chair and opened his arms in a gesture of warm welcome. "You made it back safely. I am relieved."
Bazel stopped in front of him and didn't return the gesture.
He just stood there, looking down at the beastman king from where he was, those tiger eyes flat and cold.
"Your Majesty." His voice had weight. "Don't you have something to say to me?"
The beastman king's movement stiffened for an instant.
He lowered his open arms. The smile on his face didn't change, but the set of it was noticeably more rigid than a moment before.
"Chief Bazel," the beastman king said, his tone softening, "I know you're angry. But you have to understand: everything I've done has been for the beastman nation."
His eyes held Bazel's directly, the amber gaze full of what looked like sincerity.
"You've seen that dragon's strength yourself. We can't match it in a straight fight. But if we could capture that human noble, we'd have something to hold over the dragon..." The beastman king paused, and when he continued, his voice carried firm certainty. "Everything would be different."
Bazel said nothing. He looked at the beastman king with cold, flat eyes.
The beastman king felt the silence and felt something shift beneath him, though he kept his face composed.
"I also know that sending you to negotiate was putting you in danger. But who else could I trust?" His voice carried a thread of weariness now, as though confiding in a longtime friend. "You are the person I trust most. For something this critical, something that determines whether the beastman nation lives or dies, you were the only one I could give it to."
He stepped half a pace forward and reached out to put a hand on Bazel's shoulder.
Bazel stepped half a pace back.
That lion paw hung in the air between them, stopped at an awkward height.
The atmosphere in the tent changed. The oil lamp flames swayed, throwing the shadows of the two figures across the canvas wall, long and distorted.
The attendants in the corners held their breath. Their eyes moved between the beastman king and Bazel. Someone's hand had drifted to a knife hilt without quite daring to close around it.
"Your Majesty." Bazel's voice was deliberate. Every word separated from the next. "The one thing I hate most is apologies that come afterward."
His fangs caught the oil lamp's light with a cold gleam.
"You didn't say any of this when you were sending me to my death."
The beastman king's expression finally broke.
The smile at the corner of that lion face pulled back, degree by degree, and what replaced it was a cold danger without any warmth in it.
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