Chương 205: 29. This Isn't About Us

The more I consider the angle, the more likely it feels. With the Rangers capable of conducting raids from the mountains, Degala's position no longer seems so unassailable. Shaa has made their displeasure with the tribe loud and clear, so the other houses won't see anything strange about them taking action.

Blood and acid, they might even welcome it—Shaa sending their force after the tribe keeps it out of the way of other nobles, and gives them time to make a fuss in court over Mira turning two ostensibly independent public forces into her own personal guard. It gives them time to win the political battles at home, and so what if one of the old tribes has to pay for it?

Better that than a bloody civil war or a rebellion, and if Shaa ends up occupying Degala's tribal lands along the way it's no fur off their hides as long as somebody is still making quality ships. But therein lies the trap. If I'm right, and the real target is the Blessed Lands, then those political wins won't matter at all. By the time Shaa gets the order to disband their personal army, it will be gone, sailing off to wage a brutal war of conquest to bring the colonies back in line.

And that puts the Empress in a sticky position indeed. Because disavowing the attack makes her look weak, and incapable of controlling her own nobility. In the worst case, it could force her to declare House Shaa an enemy of the empire, and throw her nation into a civil war when it's already teetering on the brink. Whether Shaa's crusade against the Blessed Lands succeeds or fails, the Empress loses. On the other hand, she could endorse the attack and openly declare war.

That sets a bad precedent, and gives Shaa a lot of power she'd rather not give them. It forces her to commit the imperial army to a war that she already halted because they couldn't afford to wage it. Again, whether they win or lose that war, it's the Empress' loss. More importantly, though, Degala gets trampled underfoot along the way. None of their options look good.

But this does all hinge on the idea that the rangers would be willing to commit to war against the tribe, when their main role for decades has been securing convergence points. Fighting monsters, rather than people. It's why Draga joined in the first place.

"They probably would, unfortunately," Talla admits wearily.

"Our order's reputation as mercenaries isn't entirely unearned, and plenty of ranger teams take private contracts on the side."

"It's a risky plan, is it not?" Elder Shala asks.

"The rangers might be able to strike from the mountains, but the forces by sea would have no line of retreat. They'd be fully committed."

"They must do so anyway," Msshi interrupts, speaking for the first time and startling some of the elders who'd forgotten they were even there—impressive for someone so large.

"Even Baanu's riches are not endless, and Shaa is not the greatest family of their clan. An army is expensive, and the more it gathers together, the more expensive it becomes. It must earn a prize, and I believe that Maev is right to suggest that the prize they covet is my homeland."

"Might want to check your sense of direction, serpent," one of the elders jeers.

"The Blessed Lands are the other way!" Msshi bows their head, and it bothers me how unbothered they are by the derisive sobriquet.

"Yet, is the sea not the swiftest path?" they argue.

"As Maev says, they have designs on your fleet. What else might they use those vessels for?"

"What does it matter anyway?" Remi demands.

"Whether they settle in or sail on after sinking us, we're drowned either way." The elders grumble in reluctant agreement, but Jira's eyes remain fixed on me as she calls them to order again. Her expression is hard to read—searching, maybe expectant? Almost disappointed, I think.

"We can speak in circles until the lake dries and the mountain crumbles," she says.

"Whether they attack, how they attack, why they do it, and where they go afterwards. These questions pale in comparison to the one I put to you now—what will we do about it?"

"Flee," one of the elders suggests without hesitation.

"We are not bound to this place, no matter what the so-called empress says. We have lived on the sea before, and we can do so again. There is no need to risk annihilation protecting a place that was never truly ours to begin with."

"We would risk annihilation by leaving," Remi protests.

"The days of our great fleets are behind us. This land is our home, now, and we cannot afford to abandon it." The old woman arguing with her scoffs dismissively.

"We've upheld the traditions. Even the youngest of us knows how to sail the seas."

"But not live on them," Remi insists.

"I have considered the possibilities, and weighed the risks. We would lose half to starvation in the first year and half again to storms in the next. Within a decade, we would be Degala no longer—just a handful of clanless merchants and pirates clinging to a name not worth the salt staining it." That's a very different line than the one she gave me before. Was she putting on a brave face then, or is she exaggerating the dangers now?

The elder, and a few of the others on her side, look about ready to fight her over it when Jira stops them with a hard glare. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"If my granddaughter says it is so, then it is," she declares.

"It fits the shape of the currents I see ahead of us."

"Then we fight," Shala says quietly.

"Perhaps it is still our doom, but if we are to be ended, let it be on our terms." And that just has them arguing all over again, voices growing heated as the resentful glares being sent my way become more frequent and intent.

"Why must we bleed ourselves in defense of some foreign troglodyte?!" one of the elders openly demands, and not even Jira's harsh response is enough to cool their tempers now that the can of worms has been opened.

"I have an idea," Vi whispers beneath the clamor.

"I don't know if they'll like it, but I think there's a way through this that doesn't end in disaster." I nod, then take a deep breath and try to imagine myself stepping back out of my own body. As usual, forcing a switch is easier said than done, but when I let out the breath, I feel as if the world around me shifts. Faces and names fade into the background, while the details of the map seem more crisp.

I feel acutely aware of how close Msshi is, and the fact that I can't feel any warmth from their body, of the fact that the door is about six feet behind me and that at least two people in this room would rather I was dead. I feel Nipper slithering beneath my cloak, perhaps wondering if the situation is about to turn violent. It's not usually so sudden, and the shift in perspective is a little disorienting, but I blink my eyes and focus on the problem in front of me.

"You're right," I say, my voice going unheard at first, over the clamor of the arguing elders. Talla shoots me a curious glance, but it's Jira's attention that draws my eye. Her head snaps around to stare at me, wide-eyed as a grin stretches across her face at something only she can see.

"Violet," she interrupts the arguing elders, going out of her way to pronounce my entire name, even though it's difficult for Fa'aun lips.

"You have something to say?" Something in her tone brings the arguing elders to order, as they begrudgingly give me their full attention. I'm not a good speaker like Allison is, and I can't say that I fully grasp all the nuance behind the politics, but I get strategy and logistics. The Degala tribe has made a classic mistake—a false dichotomy. Fight or flight is one of the most heavily ingrained instincts in any creature, humans and Fa'aun included. But that doesn't mean they're the only options.

"If a mugger holds a knife to your throat and demands your coinpurse," I ask slowly.

"What do you do?" One of the elders sneers at me.

"What is this, some kind of riddle?"

"No," I reply.

"I'm not good enough at your language for riddles. I mean what I said." I've been getting a lot better lately, but it's still a bit of a struggle. Still, I don't need Allie's command of the language for this. It's a simple enough idea.

"You give them your purse," Fargo answers.

"If the knife is at your throat, the demand is a formality. No sense dying over a few coins that will end up in their hands anyway." A few quiet murmurs of agreement, before the old woman next to Jira speaks up.

"Your point?"

"Shaa wants your ships," I explain.

"We may be the excuse they use to pressure you, but have they ever actually mentioned us in their demands?" Remi shakes her head.

"In the crimes they accuse us of, yes, but none of their demands involve you."

"Then it's the ships they want," I conclude.

"So give them the ships."

"Wait what?" Allie protests.

"That's not what we want!" So what if it isn't? This isn't about us. Or at least, it doesn't have to be.

"Meeting Shaa's demands would end us as surely as any army," the elder near Jira remarks.

"What they ask is more than our tribe can bear." I shrug.

"You don't have to meet their demands. Just give them ships. The rest you can haggle over as much as you like, and they'll let you. Because it's the ships they want. The rest, they can get elsewhere if they have to, but only Degala can supply Shaa's army with a fleet."

"They'll want hands to guide them too," Jira adds.

"Capable sailors to get them across the ocean."

"Give them those too," I suggest.

"Get a good price for the service and it'll even be a net positive—sailors fed on Shaa's tab, later returning with wages paid from the same. Make it clear that you have every intention of cooperating with Shaa as much as your tribe can afford."

"And if they refuse anyway?" Remi asks.

"If they decide that they'd rather use their army to take what we haggle for?"

"I don't think they will," I argue.

"Not when they plan to spend that army abroad. Which they must, if they're so intent on getting those ships. If they can get what they want without a fight and spare their strength for later, they'll take that deal." One of the other elders narrows her eyes.

"And so we tell the world that the Degala tribe is weak. That we can be robbed from with impunity and we will meet our oppressors with a smile." I blink.

"No, of course not. Once you give the robber your purse, and they let you go, what comes next?" Fargo laughs and shakes his head.

"You call the militia, of course." I nod, turning to Talla.

"Even nobles are discouraged from pillaging within the empire, I assume."

"Obviously," she sighs.

"A complaint to the Empress would add a lot of fuel to my family's efforts in court."

"Everybody gets what they want," I declare.

"Shaa gets their ships and their war, you survive to rebuild—maybe with aid from the mainland as compensation—and the other nobles get more fuel to use against Shaa."

"But that won't matter if the ships have literally already sailed!" Allie complains. It wouldn't matter anyway. Shaa's already committed to this war. Logistically, economically, socially—they've invested too much into making it happen. At best, our actions here might delay them, but I'm not willing to throw Jira's tribe onto the tracks hoping to slow the train down. Once I explain it to her, I'm sure she'll understand.

"And what do you get?" the elder next to Jira asks.

"Surely you know that we can't treat with Shaa in good faith while harboring a fugitive from them." I shrug dismissively.

"Nothing," I answer.

"This isn't about us. If we have to leave, then we'll leave. You don't owe us anything, and we won't ask anything of you."