Chương 630: B9 - Chapter 8: The Banquet III

Loyd Cairnwyc was the first to speak.

"May foreign houses appoint stewards to such territories, Your Majesty?" Miriel turned toward him smoothly.

"They may, provided the appointed steward is recognized by the crown and resides within the granted land." The Valour men at his table exchanged glances. Krazal Bloodletter followed almost immediately.

"Can such rights be inherited?"

"Depending on the class of the territory and the merits invested, hereditary rights may be granted." Kernt Ossyrian grunted.

"And military duties?"

"All governors will be responsible for local defense," Miriel answered.

"The crown will retain the right to summon aid in times of national crisis." Leo's brow furrowed. There was something in those answers. Something beneath the words. Rights. Duties. Recognition. Crown. Each answer sounded fair, but each one also wrapped the reward more tightly around the person accepting it. Karas Skarn lifted his cup but did not drink.

"Could civilians attached to a company settle under such a grant?" For the first time, Miriel's expression softened.

"That is one of the crown's intentions. Those who fought for Rukia should not be forced to remain wanderers if they seek a roof, a field, and a future." Karas fell silent. Leo knew little about the Unending Brigade beyond what he had seen during the campaign, but even he could tell that this answer had struck deeper than the others. Archdruid Odyr spoke next.

"Are wild regions included?"

"They are," Miriel said.

"Especially those. Rukia has lost many of the hands that once tended her forests. Those willing to restore such lands will find the crown generous." The Druids did not cheer. They did not need to. Their faces said enough. Silas Dorn smiled from his seat.

"And for those whose obligations prevent direct governance?" A few gazes moved toward him. Several others moved toward Zeke. Leo followed them and found his brother still seated calmly, cup in hand.

"Trade privileges, tax exemptions, supply contracts, protected warehouses, reconstruction rights, and route charters will be available at comparable rates," Miriel said.

"Rukia does not intend to punish those whose stations prevent them from accepting land." Leo understood that one more easily. Tradespire. Neutrality. A Merchant Lord could profit, but he could not simply become a Rukian lord without consequences. Which meant Zeke could not accept the true prize. But others could. Leo's fingers tightened beneath the table. Then one of the Korrovan commanders spoke.

"How much freedom would such governors possess over local customs?" The hall cooled. Leo did not fully understand the question at first, but he understood the reactions. Several Rukians stiffened. A young noble at his table pressed his lips together in disgust. Across the room, Rhea looked as if she wanted to bite through her cup. Miriel looked at the man calmly.

"All granted land remains Rukian soil."

"Naturally," the Korrovan commander replied.

"Then there should be no misunderstanding," Miriel said.

"Rukian law will apply. Customs forbidden by the crown will not be practiced under royal charter." The answer was polite. The warning was not. A quiet tension lingered for several breaths before Miriel continued.

"There is one final matter," she said.

"Rights of governance are not ownership in the manner of private property. No land of Rukia may be ruled by one who stands outside Rukia. Those who accept the burden of governance shall be raised into the kingdom's hierarchy, with all rights, duties, protections, and obligations that station entails." This time, the silence was absolute. Leo felt the final piece slide into place. It was not just land. It was rank. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

It was status. It was fealty. Anyone who accepted such a reward would not merely be paid by Rukia. They would become part of Rukia. They would become the queen's subjects. Leo looked toward Zeke at once. His brother had not moved. Not even slightly. Around the hall, others were slower to recover. The Valour houses were calculating. The Druids looked thoughtful but not deterred. Karas Skarn seemed almost troubled. The Korrovan commanders were visibly weighing the fertile lands against the leash attached to them.

The young Rukian officer beside Leo exhaled softly.

"A bold move," he murmured. Leo turned to him. The man noticed and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Forgive me. I only meant that Her Majesty is wise. Rukia needs capable hands more than it needs gold locked in a treasury." Leo nodded slowly, though he did not answer. The meal resumed after that, but the banquet was no longer truly a meal. Maps were studied. Merit tallies were compared. Servants carried lists from table to table, each one detailing possible categories of reward. Envoys whispered into the ears of commanders. Rukian officials approached guests with smiles, questions, and carefully chosen praise.

The young officers around Leo were no exception.

"You arrived in Rukia before Lord Hohenheim, did you not?" one asked. Leo hesitated.

"Yes."

"And fought through much of the campaign independently?"

"I would not put it that way," Leo said.

"I was not alone."

"Of course," the officer said smoothly.

"But your merits are your own. That is something Her Majesty clearly recognizes." Leo did not like the way the words sounded. They were not insulting Zeke. That would have been easier to reject. They were merely placing him beside his brother instead of behind him. Another young noble leaned in.

"There are many abandoned knightly estates near the central regions. Too small for the great houses to bother with, perhaps, but suitable for someone of proven merit. A man who distinguished himself in war could build a name there." A name. Leo looked at the map, then at the man. He finally understood why Zeke had not wanted to tell him too much. If Leo had known exactly what would be offered, he might have prepared a response. If he had prepared a response, it would have shown.

Instead, all he could do was react honestly. And honestly, a part of him was tempted. Not by the estate itself. Not really. But by the thought of something that was his. A place where his achievements were not always measured in relation to his brother's shadow. A place where people would look at him first and not immediately search for Zeke behind him. The thought came suddenly, and Leo disliked himself for it. He glanced toward Zeke. His brother was speaking with no one.

David stood behind him, Zelkara sat nearby with a face like carved ice, and Raileh watched the hall with detached interest. Zeke's gaze moved calmly from table to table, taking in everything. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Leo expected a warning. Or a signal. Or perhaps a reassuring smile. He received none of those things. Zeke merely looked at him, calm and steady, then turned his gaze elsewhere. As if saying: choose for yourself. That was worse than a command.

Across the hall, Vulcanos was being approached by several military figures. The words did not carry clearly, but Leo caught fragments.

"Frontier guardian."

"Royal protector."

"New order." Vulcanos looked increasingly unhappy. At one point, he turned toward Zeke much as Leo had done. Zeke gave him no rescue either. Cassius was surrounded by officials speaking of orchards, famine, damaged root networks, and food shortages. He listened with a troubled expression. Rhea stood beside him with crossed arms, looking at the officials as if they were trying to sell her husband a cage lined with silk. Elder Tiger and Elder Dragon stood over a map with two Rukian officials and an elven diplomat.

Leo could not hear everything, but the words "settlement rights," "legal recognition," and "protected domain" reached him more than once. Irisen was harder to read. She sat among Rukians who clearly knew her, speaking quietly with a woman wearing the insignia of the royal court. For once, she looked less like a guest and more like someone who had returned to a place that still had a claim on her. The ten Archmages from the Sanctuary were enjoying themselves far more than they had aboard the Alexandria.

Their backs were straighter. Their smiles more natural. People approached them with respect, and every word of deference seemed to polish away the caution they had worn while under Zeke's roof. Leo's stomach tightened. At the start of the evening, they had entered as one group. Now, everywhere he looked, someone was being spoken to alone. Eventually, Miriel rose once more. The conversations faded slowly this time, as if many were reluctant to release the threads they had begun weaving.

"I am pleased to see that the crown's proposal has been received seriously," she said.

"However, no final claims will be accepted tonight." Several expressions changed.

"Tonight exists for understanding, consideration, and discussion," Miriel continued.

"Every honored party shall receive a full list of available reward categories and the rates by which merits may be exchanged." Attendants moved through the hall, distributing sealed packets.

"The formal acceptance of rewards will take place tomorrow, before the people of Rukia, the gathered armies, and the witnesses of every allied force. There, each claim shall be stated openly. Each grant shall be confirmed openly. Each duty shall be accepted openly." Leo felt the meaning land heavily. Tomorrow, nobody would be able to make unreasonable demands without being seen. Nobody would be able to pretend ignorance. Nobody would be able to accept a position quietly and explain it differently later.

"Rukia has suffered enough from decisions made in shadows," Miriel said.

"Its rebirth will be witnessed beneath the sky." The line was beautiful. It was also terrifying. Even Leo could tell that much. The banquet resumed, but only in name. People spoke in lower voices now. Some left early, likely to consult their advisers. Others remained by the maps, arguing softly over borderlines and exchange rates. A few dispatched servants or messengers out of the hall. Leo no longer pretended to eat. He sat quietly, watching the room that had seemed so grand when he first entered.

It looked different now. The flowers, the music, the food, the polished tables, all of it was only decoration. The real banquet was Rukia itself. Its empty towns. Its abandoned fields. Its broken borders. Its vacant titles. The queen had placed all of it before them and invited the victors to take a portion. Provided they bent their heads when they did. When the evening finally drew toward its end, Leo rose with the others at his table and accepted their polite farewells. The young officers smiled at him warmly.

Too warmly. One even told him that Rukia would be fortunate if men like him chose to take root here. Leo gave a vague answer and escaped as soon as courtesy allowed. On the way back toward Zeke's side, he saw Vulcanos arrive at almost the same time, his expression dark. Cassius looked troubled. Rhea looked irritated. Elder Tiger and Elder Dragon whispered between themselves. Irisen was silent. Zeke, however, seemed perfectly at ease. That alone made Leo stop worrying for a moment.

Not because he understood what his brother intended. He did not. But because, for the first time that evening, he realized something important. Zeke had watched all of it happen. He had watched them be separated. Watched them be flattered. Watched them be offered land, titles, duties, and futures. And he had not lifted a finger. Not because he had failed to see the trap. But because he had allowed it to close. At the far end of the hall, Miriel turned slightly. Her gaze met Zeke's across the room.

For a moment, neither of them looked away. Then Zeke smiled faintly and raised his cup by the smallest amount. The queen's eyes narrowed. Leo felt a chill run down his spine. Tomorrow, before thousands of witnesses, the rewards would be claimed. And only then, he suspected, would he learn whose trap this had truly been.