Stahl's palace dining room was unassuming, yet spacious. It lacked the opulence and grandeur of dining rooms in wealthier countries. The wooden walls were bare and unadorned, without tapestries and other decorative elements found in more luxurious settings. The arched windows, while not grand in size, provided a picturesque view of the surrounding landscape and the common people's lives.
The centerpiece of the dining room was a sturdy wooden table, its surface bearing the marks of time's passage. The fireplace behind the main seat area was ample in size, capable of spread warmth and comfort throughout the entire room.
As he sat in the main seat, with his elbow propped on the table and fork in hand, the injured Henry savored each bite of a succulent, medium-rare beef. He didn't seem to mind the one-handed barbarian across the table, whose gaze were full of hate and malice.
"You know...this level of doneness is simply perfect," Henry said, as he skewered a piece of meat with his fork and held it up for the person across him to see. "It preserves the natural flavor and juices of the meat, offering a contrast of textures and flavors. The inside remains moist and tender, while the outside is slightly crisped. Though, it would have been even more delicious with a touch more salt and pepper, unfortunately, we seem to be lacking those condiments."
"Don't you agree, Luther?" - Henry asked, directing his gaze towards the old man, whose hand was firmly placed atop his sheathed sword, as he kept a keen watch on the barbarian.
Luther simply nodded his head, not wanting to divert his attention and risk any further harm to his king's wellbeing. The man sitting on the table was a powerful warrior, capable of chopping down a tree with his bare fist. And, although he lost his dominant hand, he was still a great threat.
During the fight, Luther killed five of his enemies and successfully captured this one, recognizing the potential value he could provide in the future. Though it was risky to have such a formidable enemy within the walls, the potential benefits greatly outweighed the risks.
"I am aware that you hold nothing but loathing and contempt for me, no…for us… and the sentiment is mutual. Your people have taken the lives of countless of soldiers and subjects of this nation." – Henry said, while calmly taking another bite of the meat, not minding the barbarian's malicious eyes – "Despite that, I got a great proposal for you, would you like to hear it?"
Henry asked, finishing the last bite of meat in his plate, and placing his fork beside his plate.
"I know you can understand me." – Henry stated – "Old Luther only spared your life because you begged, surprisingly, on our language."
Henry wore a satisfied smirk on his face. It was not often that one came across a barbarian who expressed a clear fear of death, let alone on a battlefield. And to find one who could speak the Human Common Language, it was an even rarer occurrence.
He was an important asset, even more so in Henry's crafty hands. The perfect chess piece, capable of turning the whole situation of the North region.
At Henry's words, the one-handed barbarian didn't respond, letting a deafening silence to permeate the room.
"All right! I get it, you hate me for burning your brother's body to ashes." – Henry said, idly drumming his fingers against the sturdy wooden table, a habit from his former life.- "As a gesture of goodwill, allow me to present to you the terms for this negotiation."
The barbarian remained silent, but Henry could tell from the subtle movement of his lips that he was attentively listening to his words. Negotiations could only occur when both parties were on equal footing or had something of value to offer. At the moment, the barbarian had nothing to offer, or so the leader believed.
"Currently, we hold five hundred of your people in custody, many of whom are powerful warriors, likely the primary providers of your tribe and in charge of sustaining elderly and children." – Henry spoke calmly, a subtle hint of threat underlying his tone - "As a gesture of goodwill, I am willing to release half of them, but as you know, everything has a cost."
At those words, the barbarian's face visibly relaxed. The truth was, he had not begged for his life out of fear of death, but rather out of concern for the consequences it would have on his tribe.
After Luther had killed his five brothers, he knew that the war was lost. He had been prepared to die alongside them, but the thought of his vulnerable village, without hunters and warriors, swiftly came to mind, preventing him from attacking the old man.
In such a harsh winter, the village would struggle to survive without their warriors. They would either perish from starvation or fall victim to the attacks of powerful predators. He couldn't allow that to happen, he would not be able to live with himself or face his ancestors.
That's the reason why such a proud barbarian bowed his head and begged for his life, like a coward that has broken the tradition of the barbarians of the North. He preferred living in shame than risking his village survival.
"Costu?" – The barbarian leader finally broke the silence, his voice and accent evidencing his lack of fluency in the Common Language.
At those words, Henry abruptly stopped tapping his fingers on the table and sat up straight in his chair, filling the room with a palpable tension.
The plan to dominate the barbarian and place them under Stahl's umbrella has begun.