Part the One-Hundred Sixty-Seventh
In which: someone gets something cut-off… but it’s not who or what you think.
The talks are long and difficult. Lira experiments with keeping both sides together to discuss their disagreements… then with giving them time and space to cool-off as she and Eva go back and forth between them, trying to nail down areas for compromise and concession.
After several hours she isn’t positive she wouldn’t rather they just start attacking each other and be done with it. However, they do eventually work out the beginnings of a compromise.
The War Hand is loathe to give up her advantage of numbers by allowing the Ebisite Justicar time to arrive. However, she is willing to wait for him, provided that the Justicar comes alone, unaccompanied by the rest of the Ebisite column. Unfortunately, she will make no promises that the elves will not retaliate if they are not pleased with the Justicar’s decision.
Lt. Katib would obviously like more in the way of assurances, but—with the proviso of safe-passage from the elves—agrees to send a fast rider requesting the military Justicar to leave the rest of the retinue behind on the road in hopes of negotiating a settlement.
In return, the War Hand pledges that the elves will not attack the village. At least, not until she hears the Justicar’s ruling.
With that hammered out, Lira tries to push for an additional concession from the Elves by floating the possibility of allowing civilian residents of the village to depart under amnesty, leaving only the soldiers trapped by the siege.
This is quickly shot-down by the War Hand and her aides, who insist that anyone leaving the village under any circumstances that do not include the return of their children is unacceptable.
Lira steps aside from the two parties for a moment to confer with Eva… and try to reign in her frustration.
“So, it’s a non-starter” she spits, “apparently their Elven honor demands the murder of innocent civilians.”
Lira is naturally conversing with Eva in Common, and had assumed that she was far enough away that the elves, with their seemingly rudimentary grasp of the language, would not understand her.
Then both women realize that the Elven delegation has gone abruptly silent.
“Oh crap.”
(Note: with her charisma, skill points, and +2 from Eva’s assist, Lira had +18 to that diplomacy roll. Her grand total: 19. “Crap” was the nicest thing I said when that die came up.)
###
Lira tries to apologize for her choice of words, which she readily admits were unthinking and unfortunate, but the War Hand is having none of it.
“You have insulted my honor, and I demand satisfaction.”
Lira, who has spent most of the day trying to be polite to people who seem to have no interest in avoiding a big fight where they will get to pound each other’s skulls in, finally looses what remains of her patience. “Well what would make you happy?” she asks sarcastically. “My ear?”
The War Hand almost smiles, but not in any way that could be construed as friendly. “Not necessarily. The small finger off of your right hand would also be acceptable.”
The party makes clear that this is not exactly an acceptable compromise.
Their protests are matched by several Elves who come forward as though to take their restitution right then, when suddenly Reyu steps in front of the young sorcerer.
“This human is under my protection.”
The War Hand is unruffled. “Then we will take your ear instead.”
Lira speaks up. “Reyu, this is crazy—”
Reyu doesn’t even spare her a glance. “Be quiet, youngling. This no longer concerns you.”
Lira shuts up.
Reyu addresses the War Hand. “She is a baby. She does not know your ways, and meant no offense.”
“Meant or not, offense was given.”
“Why not take her braids?”
The War Hand gives a disdainful snort. “Her braids mean nothing.” However, the suggestion has given her pause. “Would you offer yours in her stead?”
A long, pregnant silence.
“You cannot have my name braid. But yes, if you will agree to wait until the human Justicar has arrived and made his ruling in this matter, I will offer my achievement braid.”
“We will consider it.”
As the War Hand turns to confer with her people, and the Ebisites try to figure out what has just happened, Lira taps Reyu on the shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”
Reyu smiles a touch ironically. “It would seem that I do. Unless you have something else to offer, aside from your ears and fingers.”
Lira checks carefully to make sure that no one can overhear, then says, “Do you think they’d be interested in my name?”
Reyu frowns. “You would no longer be Lira?”
The sorcerer shifts from foot to foot and pulls on one ear unconsciously. “No. I mean, that’s what I go by, with you guys, but it’s not my… uh… real name.”
Reyu blinks rapidly a few times. “What is your—?”
“Giovanna Niccolira Pauletta Rufina Pulcer Marie Allessandra di Vittani, and if that was your name you wouldn’t use it all either.”
Reyu is forced to see the point. “Does it have meaning in your culture?”
Lira snorts. “It means: the short, red-haired, pretty daughter of Niccolo and Allessandra di Vittani, with a strong connotation of ‘she is healthy, and will bear you many children.’”
Reyu sighs. “I do not know that the Shesher would value the gift of a name you do not use. And they would undoubtedly give you a new name so that all elves would know of your dishonor.”
“I didn’t mean to offend them.”
Reyu sighs again. “I know.”
###
The War Hand returns to address Reyu after only a few moments deliberation. “We will accept your achievement braid in return for your human’s offense,” she informs her.
Something in the War Hand’s tone kills the last of Reyu’s goodwill towards her desert sisters. “Fine,” she spits back, “and let me be clear. You have my braid, but that is all you have. If this comes to bloodshed, I will not lend my bow to your cause.”
The War Hand doesn’t seem particularly worried by the loss. “Understood.”
And with that, Reyu lifts her dagger, and takes off her hat.
Of course, Reyu’s hat is actually Lira’s hat, which is actually a hat of disguise, and so the moment she removes it, she also removes the illusion making her appear human.
This comes as a bit of a shock to the assembled Ebisites.
So while Anvil reassures Lt. Katib that there is no treachery abroad, and Katib convinces his men to stand down, Reyu takes out a short dagger, lifts the beaded braid detailing all of her achievements since she became an adult in the eyes of her people, and slices it off, clean to the scalp.
The War Hand watches, impassive. Reyu holds up the braid, just above the War Hand’s outstretched palm. “We have an agreement?”
The War Hand nods, and Reyu gives her the severed lock of hair.
