The Conquered's Choice Pt. 02

"Delvor will refuse," Leff argued in a whisper.

"How about this?" Volren said, loud enough that those beyond them could hear. "I will give up my sword, but my men will keep their weapons, as your men clearly do. If they try to harm the king my life will obviously be forfeit, and if your men try to harm me, well... fair is fair."

Leff nodded, "Very well."

Volren heard the king from behind the line of soldiers that slowly parted,

"So you break your word that easily and come armed and hostile into my palace do you?" Delvor called out at him.

Volren didn't meet his eyes but simply focused on unbuckling his sword belt as he spoke.

"I agreed to meet with you peacefully Delvor, and I have," he said, handing his sword to Karndel. "Don't embarrass yourself further by thinking I'll agree to new terms thrown at me as I walk through the gates, that would lead me like a lamb into a lions den."

Delvor said, "I should refuse t-..."

"It's this or total bloodshed," Vol said loudly, finally turning to face Delvor. He held out his palms. "I approach you with only my bare hands and my words Delvor. Are you that afraid of me?"

Vol was suddenly glad he had acted coy and only faced Delvor now, for if he hadn't, his words likely would have faltered and he would have lost his train of thought. The king looked the same as he remembered, in his wide refined royal attire, and Vol noticed he had a sword scabbard on his side, but decided not to push the issue further. Beside the king though, to his left, stood a living miracle of a woman.

Zarina. When before he had already been impressed seeing her from a distance in a relatively modest dress, she now stood before him like a goddess. A dress of light blue silk flowed seamlessly over her bountiful curves of perfect female sexuality. A slit opened along the skirt to reveal a smooth soft leg up to her thigh, the pale skin shining flawlessly. Her wide round hips curved in sharply to her waist and out again to her massive pillowy tits. The low neckline revealing a vast plateau of creamy skin, rolling down into a long canyon of deep cleavage. The straps pressed into the soft velvety skin of her shoulders, tickled by her locks of flowing, wavy, golden hair. Her face was still flawless up close, with a delicate, well-defined jaw, red luscious lips, and those shining intense blue-green eyes, that once again looked back at him. Snaring his soul with a calculating stare.

Had the king not spoken Vol might have forgotten where he was.

"So be it!" Delvor sputtered bitterly.

Vol's head and eyes spun back as if waking suddenly from a dream and he was glad to see the king's eyes were elsewhere, looking around at his men.

Delvor spoke as he seemed to meet specific people's eyes, "We will continue then... as planned," he said with a scowl and a hateful glance back at Volren.

Vol took a deep breath and made himself forget that Zarina was there, focusing only on the king, and the others. Generals Lemmik and Quorn stood off to his right. The other soldiers, mixed with his own warriors, stood in a half-circle around them against the courtyard walls.

Vol spoke and was glad his voice stayed steady. "So you've finally seen the writing on the wall after your lies were fruitless."

"Yes. Good for you boy. You've flexed your military prowess well enough. However, whether it be from a prison cell, exile, or the other side, I will watch with delight as these lords and leaders whittle you down into a hapless puppet."

Volren simply replied, "I have offered you exile, in exchange for the peaceful surrender of your throne and the city. Despite your crimes, I offer this mercy to spare both sides of needless bloodshed. No harm will come to you or your citizens if you agree. Your soldiers will all remain unharmed... and employed," Vol said with a meaningful glance at the surrounding forces.

Delvor scoffed seemingly on instinct, but shut his mouth tightly and looked at the ground. He took a deep breath through his hooked nose.

"Very well," he finally replied. May I choose the location of my exile as you claimed?"

"Any uninhabited island on the eastern coast would be acceptable."

Delvor replied surprisingly quickly. "The isle of Runespit then. It is owned by relations of mine, and should be suitable enough."

"You must not leave the island for the remainder of your days. Under penalty of dungeon imprisonment, or death."

Delvor nodded sourly, "I agree."

Volren nodded back solemnly.

There was a throat cleared behind him, that sounded like Crolsef.

Volren spoke again, "In Kelvik tradition we offer the respect of the conquered's choice."

Delvor scoffed a single laugh, "Ravish or relinquish?... Are you that blinded and shackled by your tradition that you would... what? Let me keep my palace in exchange for ravishing her? Is she indeed that fine?"

Vol finally allowed himself a quick glance back at Zarina and was sure he was only imagining the hint of a blush on her otherwise placid face.

"No," Vol replied. He paused, wishing he had clarified with the chieftains how they specifically wished him to insist on the choice. He continued, "Our tradition is not the house itself, but the goods within. Your personal belongings. We would agree to items transportable... In two large carriages." He let himself glance back at his chieftains who thankfully nodded in agreement.

Delvor rolled his eyes, "I will have no such need. I relinquish then."

"Simple as that?" Volren asked.

"Indeed," the king replied.

Too simple. Vol felt a wrongness in the air, but couldn't decide what game Delvor could possibly be playing.

The king stepped forward and held out his arm to acknowledge the agreement.

Vol hesitated, his eyes darting around, trying to figure out what he might be missing, but not wanting to stray from decorum. He finally stepped forward and locked forearms with the king who met his eyes in a sneer.

Vol might not have looked away but for a flutter of white wings in the corner of his eye. He had been avoiding looking at Zarina for the sake of his concentration, but now he glanced to see a dove landing on her shoulder. Her eyes were on his now, glaring with fear and warning. She shook her head 'no' ever so slightly, as she had done on the plain, days before. She intensified her eyes on him and then glanced behind him, upwards at the wall.

Vol looked back at the king who still held his arm tightly. Too tightly, for too long.

Vol's senses were already heightened by fear, and he was on the balls of his feet, muscles tensed at some unknown threat. Thus, when the faint sound of the thrum of a bowstring hit his ears he acted on instinct. With no thought for decorum, or any conscious thought at all, he lurched to the side out of a pure reflex for survival. His body spun, pulling away from the king's arm despite his resistance. He felt an arrowhead tear across the skin of his forearm, right where the back of his chest would have been, before it sunk with a sickening thud, deep within the king's chest.

A fraction of a second later, two more arrows hit the king in the chest from slightly different directions, all clearly meant for Volren. Vol continued to spin, and brought himself behind the king's staggering body, hooking his arm under his armpit to use him as a shield. He reached around and pulled the king's sword from its scabbard and held it in front of him, while he glanced around wide-eyed, looking for more arrows or attackers.

Queen Zarina screamed.

"HOLD!" General Quorn yelled to his men, clearly as surprised as Volren was.

"Treacherous scum!" Karndel shouted, unsheathing his sword in rage, as the other chiefs and warriors moved to do the same.

"Hold your weapons!" Volren shouted, praying the men listened to him, and Quorn as well, seeing a bloodbath looming otherwise.

The king's laboured croaking voice sputtered "You incompetent f-..." blood splattered from his mouth in a dying cough, and then flowed from his lips as his body went limp. Vol couldn't keep him standing while still holding the sword, so he let his body fall.

"Hold, men!" Quorn shouted. "I swear I knew nothing of this! Find the archers! F-..."

"Kill him!" General Lemmik shouted after seeing Vol drop the king.

Thankfully no one moved.

"I said hold!" Quorn shouted back with a look of furious disbelief at Lemmik.

"What are you waiting for!" Lemmik screamed, looking at the courtyard walls, "Shoot him! I order you!"

"It will be a slaughter you fool! You and the whole city!" Quorn shouted back. "I said hold!"

"Steady my warriors!" Volren shouted holding the king's ornate sword in front of him and moving his feet slowly but constantly, scanning the soldiers and trying to think.

"Will you not take vengeance on your king and die with honour!?" Lemmik howled, unsheathing his own sword with an even harsher sneer.

"The king forfeit his honour!" Quorn shouted out commandingly. "Do not give up your own! Or your life! I said hold!"

Lemmik finally looked over at Quorn "You are n-..."

"Listen to Quorn!" Queen Zarina shouted in panic.

Lemmik spun his head towards her with a threatening scowl. "Shut the fuck up you useless wench!" He raised his sword and stepped towards her. "You'd avoided it before, but I will kill you myself this t-..."

"Stop!" Volren shouted stepping between Lemmik and the cowering helpless queen, pointing the jeweled sword at him.

Lemmik narrowed his eyes and bore his teeth.

"If it's me you want dead then do it yourself you fucking coward," Volren said.

Lemmik's mouth turned up into a sour smile, "Are you challenging me, one on one?"

Volren nodded, "If it will end this insanity, then yes."

Lemmik smiled wider, "As we are? No interference, no matter what? You swear on your honour?"

Volren nodded, "From either side. Yes, I swear."

Lemmik laughed, "Agreed! Watch, men. As I rid you of a future having to follow a king too stupid to know when he holds a purely ceremonial sword, that's as dull as a fucking butter knife!"

Volren heard Zarina gasp as she backed away. He glanced down and swore in his mind as he clearly saw that Lemmik was telling the truth. He saw out of the corner of his eye his own sword in Karndel's hand who was stepping forward, but Crolsef put a hand out to stop him and shook his head somberly.

Volren had no more time to think as Lemmik charged. He was slightly shorter than Vol, but much stockier, seeming to hold more fat than muscle by the look of his face, but that was belied by the speed of his approach.

Vol quickly darted to the side, deflecting Lemmik's sword swing and spinning to slice at him from behind. A real sword would have severed his spine, but a dull knock on the back of the neck was all he accomplished.

Volren swore under his breath again. The sight of Lemmik's pained look rubbing the back of his head was only a slight satisfaction. Lemmik charged again and this time Vol faked blocking his swing and crouched to the side, tripping Lemmik, who's unblocked swing already threw him off balance. Vol launched himself at Lemmik as he rolled through his fall, knocking his sword to the side and yelling as he thrust his dull sword downwards, but his foot slipped on Lemmik's fat stomach and his thrust missed his eye and thudded against his nose instead.

Again, a proper sword would have gone through into his brain, but a broken bloody nose was all Volren attained as he skidded to a halt, watching Lemmik quickly get up again, furious now.

Lemmik stood his ground though instead of attacking, to Vol's dismay. Vol knew his endurance was likely better, and he shouldn't let the man rest. He attacked, stifling his feelings of hopelessness. His first swing was parried easily, but his second follow-through hit Lemmik square in the side, to do nothing more than stagger the man slightly.

Lemmik laughed as he found his footing again and continued to stand ready, taunting Volren to attack again with his useless sword. Vol spun the sword quickly in a fake, twisting it down under Lemmik's swing and spinning a wider faster circle to smash the sword tip against Lemmik's face. Even though it was dull it was still hard metal and the sound of the hard slap echoed across the courtyard. Lemmik let out a pained growl as his head lurched to the side and his body staggered.

Vol spun again and followed through with a lunging slash at Lemmik's hands and hit home, making Lemmik swear and almost drop his sword, but tragically not quite. He caught it with shaken fingers and quickly gave a deadly sideways swing that Vol just barely ducked underneath. He gave Vol no time to recuperate, yelling in a berserker rage and slashing his sword wildly in swing after swing. Vol dodged another and then made a glancing parry with the next, but on the third quick swing from above, Vol was forced to meet it head-on as he braced under the ceremonial sword.

It shattered.

Vol yelled out at the painful vibration of the breaking metal as it coursed through his hands, and at the other sword striking his shoulder and slicing off a piece of his skin, thankfully having been slowed and deflected by the force of his breaking weapon. Vol was somehow able to make a hard kick to Lemmik's side, to stop him from following through again, sending himself flying backwards, and Lemmik staggering away.

They both caught their footing and Lemmik gave a wide bloody smile and a victorious laugh as he stood with his sharp, strong sword, and Vol faced him with nothing but a jeweled hilt in his hand.

Lemmik charged. Yelling out in fury, taking heavy, steady steps towards Vol, he began to lift his weapon.

Vol didn't let him. He suddenly threw the useless hilt at his face, and it blessedly struck home on Lemmik's eye. He yelled out in fury and pain. It wasn't enough to stop his charge, but enough to pause his hands as they lifted the sword. Vol made a hard desperate kick for all his life was worth and Lemmik's hands gave way as Vol's foot struck them, sending the sword flying up into the air. Vol landed, bracing his feet and lifting his shoulder to collide with Lemmik's wide chest. His whole body strained to absorb the force of the larger man's juggernaut charge from his shoulder to his ankle, but he did it.

The other man groaned in pain and staggered back, as did Vol, but the sword landed closer to him. Vol grabbed it immediately, as Lemmik still staggered backwards, then he spun forward to make a wide lunging slice with the man's own sword, and cut his throat clean across.

Blood sprayed out in two fountains on either side of his severed windpipe, and Lemmik soundlessly opened his mouth, and widened his eyes, as he took two more staggering steps backwards, and then fell, dead on the ground.

After ending his swing, Volren stayed crouched on one leg, his other splayed out to the side, to balance the sword extended out on the opposite side, dripping blood on the cobblestones. He stayed like this, watching in silence as if he still somehow believed the man might get up and charge him.

Finally, his adrenaline pulsed less strongly and his mind returned to him. He stood up slowly and smoothly. He looked around at wide-eyed soldiers, whispers and breathing were the only sounds, until a falcon cried overhead. He looked up and saw the archers on the walls standing with similar awestruck faces, no arrows nocked. The rays of the dying sunset shimmered overtop of them.

Volren finally realized that the soldiers might be looking at him with fear, and his own warriors with uncertainty of what to do. He answered both by throwing Lemmik's bloody sword on the ground and relaxing his shoulders. The soldiers and warriors all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

He turned and saw Zarina. She still sat on the ground, her pale smooth legs splayed out underneath her. Her massive chest heaved wonderously with her heavy, nervous breaths, tender flesh billowing above her straining dress. Her beautiful eyes were wide with shock and wonder. Her delicate and defenseless womanly form looked up at his tall, sweating, victorious warrior figure, and an unmistakable tension flowed between them. He felt it on every inch of his body and lifted his chest in a deep breath as he watched her arch her back to sit up straighter. They became lost in each others eyes until he was saved by a shout from Karndel.

"King Volren!"

Volren ripped his eyes away from Zarina to see Karndel holding his sword high with a jubilant smile. The other chiefs did the same and shouted together.

"King Volren!"

His Kelvik warriors lifted their swords and shouted as well.

He saw Quorn give him a silent, respectful nod, and watched him kneel down on one knee.

"King Volren," he said sternly and confidently.

Quorn's soldiers very gradually followed suit, kneeling down and holding their swords before them, speaking the words as well.

He heard a woman's voice speak the words amid the throng and looked over to see Zarina, kneeling as well, leaning forwards like the others and allowing him to drink in an even wider view of the tops of her large succulent breasts. She held his gaze again with a look that held no fear now, instead seeming to have a single-minded intent.

"Volren, they must answer for their faithless deceit!" Rufole shouted to him.

His eyes reluctantly turned away from Zarina again and looked at his chiefs.

"Again I swear I had no part in it!" Quorn said quickly. "I would never have agreed to forfeit my life and sacrifice the city for such a cowardly revenge."

"Where are the archers that fired?" Volren asked.

"We have them!" a voice called from the wall. Soldiers lead a struggling archer down the narrow stairs from the the top of the wall into the courtyard. Two others followed behind. The first man was brought before him, looking at the ground with terrified hopeless eyes.

"Was this a suicide mission then? What was the king's plan?" Volren asked.

The man hesitated, then gulped and spoke. "He expected fewer of your warriors with you, and not as many of them to be armed. He was sure we could kill them after assassinating you, and close ourselves off in the palace."

Volren frowned, "But my army would still be inside the city."

The soldier nodded, "There were fourteen men he chose to be involved in the plan besides Lemmik. Six archers to fire on you here, and eight others at the city gates to await a signal."

"Six?" Volren clarified, seeing the soldier nod as he realized only three had agreed to fire in the end. "A signal to what?" Vol then asked him.

"To close the gates, destroy the lifting mechanisms, and set fire to the city," the soldier responded with remorse.

The look of sickened disbelief in Quorns face was reassurance to Volren he indeed was not involved. He also heard Zarina gasp behind him.

"He would burn his own citizens to destroy my army, while watching, locked in his stone palace," Volren said, putting the pieces together out loud. "What is your name?"

The soldier winced and held back tears. "Hormel, sir. Please, you can kill me but spare my family, they had no idea, they are innocent, I beg you sir pl-..."

Volren spoke, "I will let you live, if you immediately help us stop the other soldiers from following through with any of that plan."

The soldier nodded eagerly, "Yes."

Quorn stood up and nodded, "Leff, take a dozen men and go quickly."

Volren added, "Karndel send six of our warriors as well."

The men were designated and ran off through the archway.

"This treachery must still be repaid!" Rufole persisted. Crolsef nodded in agreement.

Volren looked at the two corpses on the ground, "Delvor and Lemmik paid well enough."

His chieftains and warriors spoke up, unconvinced.

"Are we really to believe there were only fourteen involved?

"What of the queen?"

"Some type of payment must be made. As a reassurance of honour!"