“It’s a point of dishonor amongst the aristocracy that promises made to commoners don’t have to be kept,” Althorn countered. “And we don’t trust you to even try.”
“Then this meeting is pointless,” Dater said. “I will honor my safe conduct” - he shot Althorn a nasty look - “and let you return to the city.”
Emily cleared her throat. “Do you, do both of you, actually want a war?”
“It is better to fight than to bow the knee in submission,” Althorn growled. “I will not surrender.”
“I’ve seen war,” Emily said. “Whoever wins” - she looked from one to the other - “will inherit a graveyard they may not even be able to keep. The kingdom will be devastated. Men will be pressed or slaughtered, women and children will be raped and murdered, croplands will be ruined, cities will be burnt... whoever wins, the kingdom will be weakened so badly your enemies will be able to come over the border and conquer you with ease. Are you sure you want to fight to the last?”
She pressed on before they could tell her - again - that they would not surrender. “You are both in the same boat,” she said. “There are limits to what you can concede without giving up everything, without making yourself so vulnerable you can be crushed. Or without convincing your allies to put knives in your backs. The most one of you can concede falls far short of what the other can accept. Is that not correct?”
“They could just go into exile,” Althorn said. “We know they looted the treasury before they fled. They have enough money to last them a lifetime.”
Dater frowned. “I did not receive any treasure.”
“Then the money was never handed over to you,” Althorn said. He snickered. “How trustworthy are your fellow aristos, really?”
Emily held up a hand. “You can come to terms,” she said. “You have already lost a great many estates” - she looked at Dater - “and you have to accept there’s no hope of getting them back, at least not in usable condition. At the same time, you still hold many estates and - at the moment - a rebellion is unlikely to succeed. You can agree to recognize the status quo, with a catch. The serfs are freed. If they want to leave, they can.”
Dater made a face. “The serfs are property,” he said. “What’s to stop them simply walking away?”
“They are not property,” Althorn snapped.
Emily leaned forward. “If the aristocrats want to keep them, they’ll have to pay them,” she said. “You could have avoided this whole mess” - she waved a hand towards the fabric and the ruined village beyond - “if you’d just treated people with a little more respect. There are serfs who want to leave, true. But there are many who would stay if they were paid, if they were allowed to keep more of their crops, if they were treated as people. And that would make society a great deal more stable.”
She kept a wary eye on Althorn. The proposal was very similar to the one put forward by the rebel moderates. If he noticed... would he care? She wished she knew what he was thinking. Was there an angel in the storm, directing the whirlwind? Or were they all caught up in a storm they couldn’t hope to master?
“Many of my supporters would not go along with that,” Dater said, coolly. “And how would you solve the other problems?”
Emily met his eyes. “Concede the cities,” she said. “Let them have self-rule. Concede a handful of rights and let things stabilize...”
Dater shook his head. “I cannot be seen to compromise so much,” he said. “And too many people would turn on me.”
Althorn snorted. “A moment ago, you assured us you would lead and defend us against the aristocrats,” he said. “Do you expect us to believe you can keep them in line?”
“If I am seen as strong,” Dater said, “I can dictate to them.”
And if they see you in a position of weakness, Emily added silently, they’ll do everything in their power to keep you weak.
She looked at Althorn. The proposal was a good one, but many of his supporters wouldn’t agree. The hardliners would see it as a concession too far, while the former serfs would see it as a betrayal. They’d assume the worst and start a war... hell, the mere prospect of discovering their masters weren’t going to leave might trigger yet another series of peasant uprisings. She winced at the buried savagery in the countryside, just waiting for a chance to break free. Men who’d endured decades of being treated like beasts of burden weren’t likely to accept more promises. They had good reason to know the promises wouldn’t be kept.
Althorn took the plunge. “You can salvage something from this mess,” he said, finally. “But things will not be the same.”
Dater smiled, almost pleasantly. “Then this is my final word,” he said. “You have one day to accept my terms, as laid out in my statement” - he produced a rolled sheet of parchment, marked with the royal seal - “and stated here. If you refuse, we will recapture the cities by force and declare you and your fellow councilors outlaws. There will be no mercy.”
His gaze switched to Emily. “Lady Emily. Rumors have reached me of a dalliance between yourself and a rebel. I hoped such rumors would be nothing more than snide slanders, but apparently there is some truth in them after all. I will be making a formal complaint to the White Council regarding your conduct and your lack of neutrality. Regardless of the outcome, I must formally warn you that your safe conduct will be terminated at nightfall and, if you are discovered within my territory, the consequences will be most unpleasant. Do I make myself understood?”
Emily felt a hot flash of anger. “You’re being a fool,” she said. She put firm controls on
