Terms of Estrangement

A little, scaly testimony to the enormity of their differences, the dried lizard lay between them on the muddy lawn. Kaelan fought the impulse to have it removed covertly by one of his men. This could be a known violation of goblin protocol; was turning down the … gift a declaration of war? After Grakka abruptly rejected his offer of a pavilion, he cleared his throat, making a loud noise in the tense silence that followed.

"My King and your Chief," Kaelan spoke again, picking his words carefully, "have decided that a formal ceremony is required to formally cement our agreement. a ritual." He didn't like the word 'wedding' here; it sounded obscene. "To demonstrate the commitment of both our peoples."

With her hand never far from her cleaver, Grakka adjusted her weight. "A 'ceremony'," she said again, pronouncing the term as though it were an infestation. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Kaelan clarified, being diplomatically patient, "a public event, witnessed by representatives from both sides." Traditions exist, vows are exchanged, etc. Realizing how completely ridiculous this must sound to her, he trailed off.

Flatly, "Noise and pointless gestures," said Grakka. She moved in closer, encroaching on his well-kept personal space. He smelled something strong and earthy, like ancient metal and damp stone. "The agreement is the agreement. sealed by the words of your King and Grok'nar. How come decorations are a waste of time?

Kaelan retorted, "It is how humans build trust," ignoring the discomfort her closeness produced. "For my people, symbols are important. To start believing it, they must witness this togetherness and this assurance of serenity.

Grakka shot back, her dark eyes narrowing. "Humans need symbols because their word is weak," she said. "Goblins require evidence. Take action. She poked a finger in the direction of human lands in the south. "This event. "Where?"

"The initial proposal was for Whitespire Castle…" Kaelan opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"No." It was a categorical rejection. "Deep within your domain? Thousands of softskins all around? Do you think I'm a fool? Like heat from a forge, her distrust radiated from her. "On the border, it takes place. or not at all.

Kaelan had expected this protest. "My King anticipated possible issues. At Stonegate Keep, we have accommodations ready. It is located closer to the defined border, nearer to the foothills. defendable but recognizable as belonging to the Kingdom's territory." Although it was a compromise outlined in the original text of the treaty, delivering it now already felt like a concession.

Grakka thought about this, her eyes scanning the far hills as though assessing Stonegate Keep from a distance. She said, "Stonegate," out loud. "It was attacked twice. weak wall on the south. patrol routes that are predictable. She turned to face Kaelan again. "All right. But I bring my soldiers. within the keep. And they only answer to me.

"A personal guard is understandable," Kaelan admitted, although he shuddered at the idea of armed goblins wandering around a human stronghold. "Within reasonable bounds. While on the King's territory, they have to respect his authority.

With a loud, barking sound, Grakka scoffed. "They'll acknowledge my authority. My troops give no problem if your people don't. Easy." In a gesture that seemed less defensive and more like highlighting her uncompromising position, she folded her arms. "And this 'ceremony.' Don't make it too long. No priests crying, no flower-throwing, no excessive singing." The final words nearly came out of her mouth. "A binding of hands, an exchange of oaths – sworn on iron, not on flimsy air – and it is done."

Iron-sworn? That sounded appropriately gloomy given the situation, but Kaelan had no idea what it meant. Even while her harsh pragmatism annoyed him, he felt oddly relieved by her rejection of human wedding fancies. He said, "The specific rites can be… finalized," with care. "But the core principle – a public binding, witnessed, at Stonegate Keep – is agreed?"

"Agreed," Grakka admitted, but her voice was cold. Instead of starting a shared life, it was an agreement made prior to undertaking necessary surgery. "We're going to depart now. Daylight dims. Even for you, it's foolish to go up these slopes after dark. Was that a worry? Or just a factual statement about goblins and animals as predators?

The exit from the demolished watchtower was as formal and quiet as the first encounter. No official farewell was given. With a simple command in her harsh speech, Grakka turned and went towards her men. Keeping a cautious gap between them, the two parties started to descend off the windswept hill once Kaelan gave the signal to his own men.

The trip to Stonegate Keep was painfully uncomfortable. Kaelan was keenly conscious of Grakka's proximity while they rode several horse-lengths apart. Her sturdy goblin ride, which resembled a shaggy, ill-tempered cross between a pony and a mountain goat, moved with athletic ease as she made her way over the rough terrain. Her focus was unwavering as her eyes continuously searched the environment, overlooking nothing. In contrast, Kaelan felt constrained by his armor and the weight of etiquette, his eyes pulled involuntarily and constantly to the alien figure who was now inextricably linked to his destiny.

In response to Grakka's troops' suspicious looks, his knights were stiff, their hands close to their sword hilts. Except for the scrape of their boots on stone and the occasional guttural remark among themselves, the goblins walked with a silent intensity, their dark eyes vigilant beneath hooded brows. There was mistrust in the air. Two armed camps marched in an uneasy parallel, briefly halted by orders from leaders neither of them entirely trusted, rather than participating in a joint procession towards peace.

Kaelan started to fear Stonegate. What is the garrison's response? What would Grakka's reaction be to the inevitable looks and whispers that would accompany human military structure? If just walking the same way felt this tense, then introducing her to the court at Whitespire looked like a far-off, nearly insurmountable obstacle. He held onto the notion that a common goal—the maintenance of this precarious peace—might one day heal the division. However, Grakka's stony profile and her sole focus on possible dangers in the dusk shadows made that hope seem flimsy.

For her part, Grakka sensed the strange limitations of human space encroaching. They felt vulnerable and uncomfortable in the well-organized rows of the far-off farmlands they passed. Compared to her mountains, the air itself appeared thicker and less pure. They turned a corner and saw Stonegate Keep, a blocky silhouette against the lowering sky. Human building is sturdy, but it's also predictable and inflexible. She automatically evaluated it like she would any enemy stronghold, cataloguing possible access points, escape routes, and weaknesses. The enemy's heart was symbolized by this Kaelan, who rode rigidly next to her. Her father's scouts said she was honorable. Maybe. Goblins, however, could not afford the luxury of honor. The only creed that counted was survival. And becoming married to this softskin knight felt more like voluntarily entering a well-made trap than it did like guaranteeing peace.

The only thing that was certain as the two banners—Kaelan's silver hawk and Grakka's shabby painted symbol, a sharp black fang—came closer to Stonegate Keep's gates was their deep, shared fear. The conditions of their unwelcome union had been cruelly set. The ritual itself, which promised all the festive solemnity of a public execution, was now the ordeal.