Undignified Peace

The banquet hall in Kaisergrad’s stone castle felt like a hollow shell, its long oak table now bare, stripped of the roasted duck and wine that had once masked the tension of war. Moonlight filtered through the high arched windows, casting long, wavering shadows across the polished floor. I sat at one end, slumped in a high-backed chair, the signed treaties from Eisenfurst and Feldheim scattered before me like forgotten relics. My fingers traced the edges of the parchment, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in the whirlwind of the last few days. The air was thick with the scent of smoke from distant fires, a reminder that the kingdom’s collapse was not yet complete.

It had been three days since the garden, three days since Fredreich’s final revelations and the military’s brutal ambush. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours each night, my dreams haunted by the All-Mother’s cryptic words and Amber’s accusing gaze from that fevered vision. A monarch and messiah will bring peace, she had said, but justice is a path of blood and sacrifice. I had assumed it meant Amber and me ; she the rightful heir, I the barrister, forging a new world together. But now, in the cold light of reality, I saw the truth. Fredreich had been the monarch, the one who broke the chain of his father’s tyranny, sacrificing himself to make it possible. And I? I was the messiah’s edge, the unwitting tool that had brought him to his end. The weight of it crushed me, leaving me hollow, a broken man navigating the ruins of victory.

The sham trial had been a farce, a spectacle designed to legitimise the military’s seizure of power. The gray-haired officer, now calling himself General Harlan, had orchestrated it in this very hall. Fredreich, battered and bloodied from my punches, had been dragged in chains before a hastily assembled council of commanders and remaining loyalists. His face, pale and resolute, showed no fear as they read the charges: treason, sabotage of his own legions, acting without approval from the council. The evidence was Fredreich’s own confession, but he offered no defense. “Do what you must,” he had said, his voice steady, eyes meeting mine across the room. The arrows had come swiftly, piercing his chest as he stood among the hall’s pillars, his blood staining the stone. The execution had been public, a message to any who might challenge the new order. Martial law followed immediately, the generals declaring it “for the stability of Mittengrad.” Kaisergrad was locked down, patrols marching the streets, but the damage was done. Fredreich’s sabotage had ensured his legions were humiliated at Blutklamm; false orders leading to ambushes, supply lines cut by his own design. Ur’s forces had the upper hand from the start, pushing south with ease.

I rubbed my eyes, the parchment blurring. The last few days had been a blur of strategy and sorrow. Lianne’s Elven forces and Remus’s rebels from Luxion had arrived at the capital gates within hours of Fredreich’s death, their banners fluttering in the wind; lion and phoenix side by side. Faelar and Lucius had followed, their phoenix-clad troops sweeping in from the north, the Blutklamm pass secured without the heavy losses we feared. The military autocracy, cornered and outmatched, had no choice but to sue for peace. They held Kaisergrad, their iron grip on the capital, but the rest of Mittengrad was slipping away. And now, here we were, forging an undignified peace in the hall where it all began.

The doors creaked open, and my companions entered, their footsteps echoing in the empty space. Lianne led, her Elven grace sharp as a blade, her emerald eyes scanning the room. Remus followed, his blonde stubble shadowed by exhaustion, but his sly smile intact, ever the opportunist. Faelar came next, his pointed ears and glimmering eyes a reminder of the debts paid, his blonde hair tied back from the march. Lucius brought up the rear, scarred and steadfast, his presence a wall of unyielding strength. They took seats around the table, the weight of victory heavy on their shoulders.

“Aizawa,” Lianne said, her voice steady, “the generals approach. Are you ready?”

I nodded, though my mind still wandered to the garden, to Fredreich’s battered face and his final clarity. The prophecy had been his, not mine. He had played the monarch, breaking the old world so Amber could build anew. My role; the messiah, was to ensure that the new world endured, even if it broke me in the process. The Mittengrad forces, humiliated by Fredreich’s tactics, legions led into traps, commanders divided by false commands, had given Ur the upper hand. Blutklamm had fallen not to superior numbers, but to Fredreich’s deliberate failures. He had engineered his own defeat, his justice raw and complete.

The doors swung wide, and General Harlan entered, flanked by Rafael, the red-haired orc guard, and a cadre of grim-faced commanders. Harlan’s gray hair was unkempt, his uniform wrinkled from days of crisis. Rafael’s dark skin was pale with fatigue, his pointed ears twitching, his massive sword sheathed but prominent. The commanders’ hands rested on their hilts, a silent threat in a room of words.

Harlan sat opposite me, his eyes cold and calculating. “Aizawa, we seek peace, but Mittengrad’s sovereignty must stand. Name your terms.”

The negotiations began, a grueling dance of maps and concessions. Lianne spoke first, her voice sharp as a blade. “The Great Forest must return to the Elves. It was never Mittengrad’s to claim. We demand its full autonomy.”

Harlan leaned back, his jaw tight. “That forest has been ours for thousands of years. Its resources are Mittengrad’s lifeblood.”

Lianne stood taller, her emerald eyes blazing. “Thousands of years too long. The Elves tended those groves millennia before your kingdom rose. It must be returned.”

Harlan’s face reddened, but he waved a hand, conceding. “Take it. The forest is a burden we no longer need.”

Remus leaned forward, his sly smile widening. “Luxion is mine. As Fredreich’s heir, I claim autonomy. Low taxes, free trade with Ur and other kingdoms, no military interference from Kaisergrad.”

Harlan nodded swiftly, his eyes narrowing. “Luxion’s wealth is yours, Remus. We have no claim there. Trade freely, but Kaisergrad expects mutual cooperation.”

Lucius slammed a fist on the table, his scarred face stern. “Cooperation? After your legions crumbled at Blutklamm? Fredreich’s false orders humiliated you. Ur holds the pass. No tariffs, or we march on Kaisergrad.”

Harlan’s voice rose, sharp. “Tariffs are non-negotiable. Kaisergrad needs revenue to rebuild.”

The room tensed, swords shifting in scabbards. I intervened, my voice calm but firm, though my hands shook with Fredreich’s memory. “General, your legions are broken, your supplies cut by Fredreich’s own hand. Ur seeks peace, not war. A treaty of nonaggression, cultural exchange, free trade between Ur and all territories. Your forces keep minimal troops in Kaisergrad, nowhere else. Ur relinquishes claims on the capital.”

Harlan’s eyes narrowed, weighing our strength. Faelar spoke, his voice steady. “All territories save Kaisergrad; Eisenfurst, Feldheim, the border cities, belong to Ur. Your defeat at Blutklamm leaves no room for debate.”

Harlan surged to his feet, bellowing. “You’ll strip us bare! Mittengrad is not your spoil to carve!”

Lucius rose, matching his fury. “Your king betrayed you, Harlan! His orders led your legions to ruin. Yield, or we take Kaisergrad by force.”

The commanders’ hands gripped their swords, Rafael’s eyes darting to me. I stood, my voice cutting through the chaos, steady despite the weight in my chest. “General, the watchtower evidence proved Fredreich’s lies. Your nobles, Eisenfurst and Feldheim, swore neutrality because of it. Your legions fell because he planned it. Ur holds the pass, the south, the future. Sign the treaty, or Mittengrad has no capital at all.”

Harlan’s face twisted, his fists clenched, but he sat, his voice bitter. “Eisenfurst, Feldheim, the border cities; take them. Kaisergrad remains ours, a sovereign state under martial law.”

Lianne nodded, her eyes gleaming. “And the Great Forest?”

“Yours, autonomous, as Luxion,” Harlan said, pushing the map across.

Remus grinned, sealing his claim. “Then we’re done.”

The treaty was signed, quills scratching on parchment. Nonaggression, cultural exchange, free trade; words that promised a new era, but felt hollow in my hands. Fredreich’s justice had paved this path, his blood the ink. The prophecy echoed: Monarch and messiah. Fredreich had broken the old world; Amber would build the new. I was the edge, the witness, my cunning securing what his sacrifice began.

As the generals departed, their minimal troops retreating to Kaisergrad’s walls, my companions lingered. Faelar clasped my shoulder. “It’s over, Aizawa..”

I nodded, but my heart was heavy. Fredreich’s gaze, his final clarity, the arrows piercing him like his beloved roses, they haunted me. I had crossed worlds for justice, but this peace felt undignified, stained by blood I hadn’t spilled but couldn’t wash away. Amber’s phoenix banner rose over Eisenfurst, a promise of renewal, but my hands trembled, the prophecy’s weight unbroken.