Chapter 260: The Shadow of the Mandate
The fresh air of the palace’s upper corridors struck Valerius’s face as they exited the infirmary. With clean bandages fitted beneath his tunic and the sting of the whip lashes dulled by the healers’ magic, the former general walked half a pace behind Prince Caelen.
"Your Highness... may I ask what fate awaits us?" asked Valerius in a respectful tone. "Shall we march at the head of the reserve legions?"
Caelen did not break his stride, keeping his eyes fixed ahead as his boots clacked against the stone flags.
"There will be no legions, Valerius. We depart at dawn for the great forest at the head of a diplomatic delegation. We shall bear chests of gifts, silks, and fine spices to forge an alliance with the shaman."
Valerius froze for a second. His eyes widened in shock as memories of the camp’s slaughter, the colossal beasts, and Kellar’s glare flashed before him. Yet, not a single gesture of protest left his lips. The veteran pressed a fist to his chest, bowed his head, and replied:
"It shall be done as Your Highness commands."
Caelen stopped in his tracks and turned his head toward him, taken aback by the warrior’s docility. The prince narrowed his eyes, wondering if the pain of defeat and the threat of Beatrix’s claws had ultimately cowed the commander.
"Your reaction is strange, Valerius," remarked Caelen suspiciously. "Does such a decision not surprise you after what we endured in that forest?"
"It does, my Lord," answered Valerius without hesitation, keeping his eyes lowered, "but it is not my place to question Your Highness’s decisions. My life belongs to you for delivering me from that cell, and my duty is to execute your orders without faltering."
Caelen remained quiet, omitting that the strategy of peace gifts and seeking a truce had been a correction imposed by the King. He let the general’s words hang in the hallway, relishing the illusion that the plan was his own brilliance.
Experiencing the devotion of a loyal and silent servant was a novel sensation for the prince. Varis, his deceased advisor, used to debate every decision no matter how logical it was, acting like a strict schoolmaster. In contrast, Valerius, having brushed against death in the dungeons, displayed a submission that comforted the heir’s ego.
"It is good that you know your place, Valerius," said the prince, resuming his stride with steady steps. "Our objective is to forge an alliance to protect our rear flank. According to the Grand General, we are in severe jeopardy, and it is far too dangerous to engage in combat against the savages when they can retreat and conceal themselves within the great forest at will."
Valerius nodded, walking beside him with an attentive gaze.
"I understand... If Grand General Julian stated as much, then we are in grave trouble," remarked the veteran, his voice heavy with concern. "Which kingdom is attacking us this time? Aethelgard or Valoria?"
"Both, in truth," replied Caelen bitterly. "They appear to have coordinated their movements and have seized several of our defensive forts along the border."
Valerius clenched his fists, making his bandaged knuckles crack.
"Cursed bastards... Those dogs from Aethelgard understand nothing. They are nothing more than a horde of savages, precisely like the forest tribe’s barbarians."
The prince tilted his head, eyeing Valerius with a flicker of curiosity.
"You are familiar with them?"
"Indeed, Your Highness," affirmed the former general, raising his chin with pride. "In fact, I earned my military rank fighting in several wars against them in the northern front. I know them well, and I know what they are capable of on the battlefield."
Caelen came to a halt before the vaulted windows of the main corridor, gazing at the torches illuminating the courtyard down below ahead of the coming dawn.
"Prepare everything," commanded the prince, turning back toward the former general with a calculating glint in his eyes. "Ensure we bring more than enough gifts. The first time we conducted trade with that shaman, he displayed a keen interest in slaves and raw minerals. Yet this time, we will not confine ourselves to the basics."
Valerius stood at rigid attention, hanging on every word.
"We shall bring a bit of everything," continued Caelen, a smirk playing on his lips. "Bring a touch of culture as well: the finest vintages from the royal cellars, paintings crafted by the capital’s masters, fine silks, and select a troupe of skilled bards and dancers. I want those savages to gaze upon our kingdom’s wealth and realize that relying upon us to thrive is their sole path forward."
Valerius pressed his right fist against his chest and bowed deeply before the heir.
"It shall be done immediately, Your Highness."
While back at the royal palace the court assembled the diplomatic caravan, life within the depths of the great forest operated under an entirely different rhythm. That morning, Kellar’s village welcomed two guests.
"So this is your city... It is beautiful and spacious, truly impressive," remarked one of the envoys, reining in his mount as they crossed the settlement’s perimeter.
The foreign envoys were awestruck. In their minds, they had expected to encounter the shabby hovels of an inferior tribe, yet laid out before their eyes was an organized town. The streets were clean and orderly, paved with a grayish material that felt as solid as bedrock itself.
Furthermore, the urban layout offered generous clearance. The visitors’ caravans, drawn by bulls and draft horses, moved comfortably along the wide avenues. None of the congestion or cramped chaos that plagued the narrow alleys of their own capital was felt here.
The foreign envoy, still gazing at the solid paved roads and the neatness of the settlement, tilted his head and asked with curiosity:
"Who has created all of this?"
Brak, leading the escort while mounted upon the frame of his white tiger, tightened his grip on the reins and turned his face back toward the caravan, brimming with pride.
"It is the shaman," answered Brak in a firm voice. "Every blessing you witness here is thanks to the shaman’s teachings and the protection of the Bear God."
The ambassador adjusted the collar of his traveling robe and nodded, recalling the distant rumors that had crossed the borders.
"I have heard tales of him... They say that great shaman you speak of is a man skilled in battle and wielding formidable knowledge."
"There is nothing our shaman does not know," declared Brak with devotion, patting his mount’s thick fur as they moved toward the heart of the village. "It is his wisdom that has brought us to where we stand today."