Chapter 780: Flower of peace(4)
It was a detail he had entirely overlooked, one that now, in hindsight, glared at him like a torch in the night.
He cast his thoughts back to the envoy’s visit, replaying every word, every glance, every pointed pause between pleasantries. The more he reflected, the more sense it made: the envoy’s arrogance, the unrelenting emphasis on "the will of the Southern Princes," spoken as if reciting dogma. There had been no humility nor common appeal, only the expectation of obedience that one had when conversing from a position of strength.
It now appeared less like the unity of six princes and more like the performance of one man attempting to project power over a chorus that might not have even been singing the same song.
Yes, Alpheo reasoned, that must be it. Nibadur is attempting to overstate his reach, to make his fingers look longer than they are. If the others had been hesitant, then sending the envoy under Habadian colors could conceal any weakness in their alliance, and to inflate Nibadur’s position as the de facto leader of this so-called Southern Front.
After all, in this game of crowns and coalitions, perception was often more lethal than armies.
And perhaps—perhaps—not all of those princes wanted to see Alpheo fall.
He forced himself to consider the map again, not in terms of cities and roads, but in terms of fear and ambition. Oizen, the main beneficiary of the proposed truce, still stood between him and the southern territories. It was a natural buffer, one that as it existed would deny Alpheo any campaign further east. Yet it also shielded the southern princes from him. If anything, it was Nibadur who sat closest to them, like a lion at the edge of their courts.
Between the two expanding powers, Yarzat and Habadia, many of the lesser princes might have found themselves trapped like nervous dogs between two tigers.
But it would be dangerous to think he had fully uncovered the truth.
"Are we sure we aren’t over-reading it?" Shahab’s voice cut through the quiet,. His skepticism wasn’t new, but it was valuable. It grounded the conversation. "For all we know, this might just be the opposite of deception. It might simply be Nibadur standing tall, proud enough to name himself the vanguard of the cause.Gods’ eyes know truly how filled of arrogance the world is..."
He paused, stroking the thin lines of his beard, his eyes drifting to the letter once more.
"Or perhaps," he continued, tone shifting slightly as he weighed a third possibility, "perhaps Habadia sent the letter on their own initiative, not as a trick, but because they are
the strongest princedom in the South. They may have taken it upon themselves to coordinate and present this petition under their banner.A show of entitlement rather than subterfuge."
"Perhaps it may be," Alpheo finally said, voice measured, the chain links on his sleeves clinking softly as he drew his arms away from the table as he decided to change the topic.
"It still works with a certain theory I’ve been turning over in my mind, about the depth of suspicion the other princes hold toward us. It seems clearer now than ever."
"The fall of Herculia," he continued, "and its full annexation that was the spark. It changed the shape of things, not only on the ground, but in their minds. Until then, they saw us as barely of notice,like a novelty in their garden. Now, with Herculia in our hands, and our banners planted within the very walls of that princedom, the box we were contained in has been broken."
"They fear we’ll do the same with Oizen," he went on, "and should that happen, it won’t just be the borders that change, it will be the balance of power itself. We’d no longer just be a neighboring realm. We’d be a looming presence."
He turned again toward the others, voice steady, his tone a mix of analysis and quiet warning. "They don’t fear our victories for Oizen’s sake. Most of them despise Oizen in private, as they all have their tensions and slights. Some, like Sharjaan, have longstanding grievances. Decades of conflict over the border mines. And now those very mines," he tapped the edge of the table, "are in our hands."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "From that, we can predict that Sharjaan will likely be the loudest among them to cry foul, not out of concern for peace or balance, but out of fear we’ve swallowed the meat they had long hoped to claim for themselves."
Shahab, who had been listening closely, nodded once and asked, "Where does that take us, then? What do we make of this coalition if even they aren’t fully aligned in cause or interest?"
Alpheo’s gaze sharpened as he returned to his seat. The shadows from the torchlight played across his face, casting the illusion of flickering movement beneath the surface of his calm expression.
"It takes us," he said, "to an understanding of limits that we can work on."
He leaned forward now, his voice low, focused. "As long as we do not push too far, too quickly, most of them will turn a blind eye to what they might call ’minor transgressions.’ They have after all already a giant on their doorstep, and they will not be easily moved to fight under their banner unless they truly have to.
Their unity is shallow. So long as we do not march too deep, they will stay behind their walls and mutter their discontent without acting on it."
He raised a hand to emphasize his next point.
"This does not
mean we are free to take half of Oizen , and expect silence when we leave the other half standing. The moment we go too far, if we seem to reach for the heart instead of the edge, they will close ranks, however reluctantly. But if we play this right... we can carve concessions from them. "His eyes moved across the faces of his advisors, resting briefly on each of them.
"In other words, gentlemen... we may still eat at the table provided we don’t try to overturn it."
"Are we going to accept their demands, then?" Egil asked
Alpheo shook his head slowly, "Not exactly," he replied. "If we accept their terms as they are, especially the call for a truce, we’ll be binding our own hands before the real game even begins. Once we enter that truce, we lose momentum. And without momentum, we lose leverage."
He paused, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands before him. His voice remained calm, but deliberate. "What we need isn’t blind refusal or full compliance, we will strive for the middle road in between."
"What do you mean?" Jarza asked, leaning forward slightly.
"I mean," Alpheo began, "that we accept the invitation to participate in peace negotiations. We extend a hand, at least in words. That will be enough to placate most of them, or at least to cool their will to stop us."
"But we don’t agree to a truce," he continued firmly. "Not yet. Not until Turogontoli falls. As long as we remain officially outside a truce, we can act. Once the city is in our hands. We’ll have a position, not just to negotiate from, but to negotiate with. This middle ground may be unwanted by Habadia, but it certainly will feel satisfactory for the other princes..."
Shahab gave a slow nod, understanding dawning on his face. "So we present the image of cooperation... while proceeding with our affairs in a one way that won’t probe the princes from escalating."
"Exactly," Alpheo confirmed. "We show them a face they can tolerate, and quietly press forward with our true aim, building a corridor that connects this territory to the heartland. Once Turogontoli falls, and with the right castles under our control, that bridge becomes reality."
"And you think they’ll let us get away with that?" Egil asked, skeptical. "Even if they know what we’re doing?"
"They might," Alpheo said. "So long as we don’t overstep the limits of what they’re willing to tolerate. The moment they believe we’re grabbing too much, they’ll act, but if we move just short of that line, they’ll grumble, argue, maybe even protest... but they won’t march.After all there is little gain to be made from going to war against us, and we haven’t reached a level where they are truly frightened of us"
"So what’s the plan, then?" Jarza finally asked.
"The plan," Alpheo said, tapping the table, "is to gather as many bargaining chips as possible before the negotiations begin. The most crucial of them being Turogontoli. The sooner it falls, the sooner it becomes a fact, not a possibility, and facts are harder to erase than ambitions. Once it’s ours, even the most peace-loving prince will think twice before trying to pry it from our hands."
He stood, voice firmer now.
"We act quickly. Decisively. Then, when we finally sit at their table, we’ll do so not as supplicants begging for bread, but as men who already hold the seat at that table. With some foreign help we will be able to mantain our ground..."
But of course, even as he voiced the plan, Alpheo recognized the truth behind his own words, it was merely a stalling tactic.
Unless something truly significant intervened, the course ahead was already carved in stone. Sooner or later, he would be forced to clash not just with Oizen but with the entirety of princes of the South.