The Final Showdown

I had spent days putting off Fredreich’s request for a meeting, using the excuse that I needed approval from the crown for any conditions of peace that were put forward, but today, that was all about to change.

The banquet hall in Kaisergrad’s stone castle was a battlefield of words, its long oak table laden with roasted duck and wine, yet heavy with the weight of impending war. I stood at one end, Jaeger looming behind me like an oak, his pointed cap brushing the chandelier’s shadow. Across from me, King Fredreich lounged, blue eyes glinting with mockery, flanked by Rafael, his red-haired orc guard, and a dozen nobles.

“Your highness,” I spoke up, revealing the parchment and opening an envelope my scout brought to me this morning, “I have full reason to believe that the attacks on the watchtower were in fact, not by the hands of Ur.”

The nobles gasped, some exchanging whispers while a stout noble slammed his fist. “Preposterous, it was Ur that struck first!”

“Please, if you would allow me to show you what our investigation has uncovered,” I produced the items from within a bag that was being carried by Jaeger, “I hope to change your minds.”

Fredreich, watching all of this unfold with a sly smile spreading across his face gestured for me to proceed.

I took out an arrow and walked over to one of the nobles who was clad in a military uniform, his gray hair underneath his cap gave him the air of someone who had seen and lived through countless battles.

“Can you please identify this arrow for me, sir.” I handed him the arrow as he looked at it for a few seconds.

“This….hmm. Well, it appears to be an Elven arrow,” he mumbled, as the eyes of the court now fixed towards him.

“Are you positive?” I pressed him further.

“I’ve served years in the military, young man,” he scoffed, “the arrowhead is carved using an Elven technique, the ridges being on one side proves it.”

“Now can you please, identify this arrow for me?” I pulled out another arrow from within the bag, bringing it to the noble’s arms.

“This arrow,” he inspected it meticulously, eyeing the head with great interest, “I haven’t seen one like it in years, it’s clearly Urian.”

I took both arrows from him and handed them to Jaeger, before proceeding to speak to the audience once more, their eyes wide and their mouths shut, anticipating every word that I had to say.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the first arrow was taken directly from the now defiled watchtower whereas the other was provided to me by my guard which he carried all the way from Ur.” I walked back to my bag, producing another article from within, holding a piece of paper with markings drawn on it to the crowd in front of me.

“This sigil,” I pointed towards the paper, “can anyone recognise it?”

An old feeble woman raised her hand, inspecting the sigil closely.

“You, ma’am,” I took the sigil to her and placed it before her, “what can you tell me about this sigil?”

She looked at it closely, close enough to sniff the paper before she looked back at me and then towards the rest of the audience. “It…appears to be a spell to activate fire.” she spoke, her voice low and soft.

“Very well, and can you tell me the origins of this spell?”

“It was popularised during the 17-year war for the army of Mittengrad,” she inspected the sigil even more closely this time. “It was used as a way to counter the Urian forces' magic.”

“Can this sigil be said to have been the use of someone from Ur, ma’am?”

“I don’t believe so,” she said, “the Urian soldiers are much better mages than our own, you see, they hardly require things like sigils to cast spells.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Elven arrows, the sigils being from Mittengrad all point towards one thing and one thing alone,” I paused, all the nobles at the edge of their seats, waiting, listening, “that the attack could not have been a crime committed by Urian forces, rather it was the act of someone from within Mittengrad wishing to ignite the flames of war.”

The courtroom erupted in conversation, the nobles began talking amongst themselves, their voices drowning out each other as some stood up, walking towards me to inspect the evidence for themselves.

Fredreich’s slow claps cast silence on the room once more, prompting the nobles to return to their seats, a smile spread across his lips as he began to chuckle ever so slightly.

“Clever, Aizawa,” he laughed, “very clever. However, I do not think this is enough. My terms of the treaty stand as they were. Control of the trade route and my troops stationed at Blutklamm. Take it or deal with the consequences, the choice is yours.”

That’s right, this wasn’t a courtroom. These nobles weren’t part of a jury. This was an autocracy where Fredreich called all the shots. He knows this was a false flag, he knows he has no reason to go to war, but even then, he’ll do what he wants.

My blood boiled as I clenched my fists together, watching his sly smirk from across the room. I’ve wanted to hit him several times, but this time, the desire burned within me more than it ever had.

“Your majesty,” I said, taking a deep breath, “you must see that this aggression cannot be Ur’s fault, and we are more than ready to bring peace to the land and ensure that our people-”

“My word is final, Aizawa, do you hear?” he leaned closer, placing his face on his fist as the smirk from his face disappeared.

“My lord,” the old gray haired military official spoke out, his voice hesitant and low, “I can understand your refusal to cooperate with such fiends but a war might not be what’s in our best interests at the moment.”

“These taxes have been too hard on our people to handle as is, your majesty,” another old woman spoke up, “it would benefit our people greatly if we could trade freely with Ur for once in so many years.”

He stood, robes swirling, and strode out, Rafael trailing. The nobles fragmented, some followed behind him while others came rushing to me.

“Please, if Fredreich wishes for a war, we want no part in it,” an old man cried out from beside me. “I would like to make it known that I do not support the king’s ambitions in such a war, and would like to sign a treaty of peace with Ur as soon as possible,” another noblewoman pleaded from beside me.

I knew now for a fact that Mittengrad couldn’t and wouldn’t lay as much as a hand on Ur. With the nobility divided, any attack, no matter how long Fredreich had been scheming, was bound to fail.