For the first time since their war began, Alexander and Baron Lucius Valtor sat at the same table, not as enemies on the battlefield, but as men discussing terms that could shape the future of the frontier. It was a fragile arrangement, but one that neither could afford to break.
A crude wooden table had been set in the ruins of the fort, surrounded by broken stone walls and a lingering sense of history. The past failures of expansion loomed over them, whispering of settlements that had tried and failed before Emberhold.
Alexander sat at one end, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The Baron mirrored his posture, his piercing gaze never wavering. Between them, a map of the region lay stretched across the table, though its markings were sparse—the frontier was largely unclaimed, unexplored, and uncharted.
Darius, the Baron's second-in-command, stood at his lord's side, arms folded. On Alexander's side, Silas leaned slightly forward, his sharp mind already dissecting every word exchanged. Elias and Tyrell remained outside, keeping watch, but ready to step in at a moment's notice.
The first day of negotiation had begun.
Why the Frontier Remained Untamed
Alexander tapped a finger against the map. "You say the land beyond Emberhold is useless. If that's the case, why even bother keeping me from expanding? Why not let me deal with the problem?"
The Baron exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "Because the frontier has swallowed many men who thought like you. I've seen entire villages rise and fall in a matter of years, their people driven off by monsters, starvation, or sheer isolation. Even if the land is fertile in some areas, it's meaningless without infrastructure. Roads, trade, security—all of it is a nightmare out here."
Alexander took in the words. So that was it. The Baron hadn't expanded, not out of fear, but out of practicality. His position closer to the kingdom's heartlands meant he had no reason to waste resources on land that gave nothing in return.
"And the Kingdom?" Alexander pressed. "Why hasn't it tried to reclaim this land?"
The Baron's lip curled slightly. "Because it doesn't care."
Silas, who had remained quiet until now, spoke up. "That doesn't make sense. The Kingdom would benefit from more land, more resources—"
"Would it?" the Baron cut in, his tone laced with something close to amusement. "The Crown has enough problems maintaining the land it already holds. The nobility fight among themselves, and the King is too focused on securing power in the central provinces. Out here? The frontier is a place of exile, a land where only the desperate and ambitious go. No lord with any sense wants to claim it, and those who have tried?" He gestured to the ruins around them.
Silas frowned, but he couldn't argue against it.
Alexander leaned forward. "And yet, you still don't want me claiming it either."
The Baron's eyes darkened. "Because the moment someone manages to carve out a real domain here, it will attract attention. From the Kingdom, from the nobles, from those who would rather see the frontier stay as a buffer rather than a stronghold."
Alexander understood the implications. If Emberhold became too powerful, it wouldn't just be the Baron he had to deal with. The Kingdom itself might take notice.
That was a problem for the future. Right now, he needed to secure Emberhold's survival.
The Conditions of Peace
The Baron exhaled, running a hand over the map. "Here's my offer: you stay out of my business, and I stay out of yours. Expand if you must, but you do so knowing you're on your own. I won't recognize your rule, and I won't lift a finger to protect you if the wilderness turns on you."
Alexander met his gaze evenly. "And in return?"
"You stop interfering with my territory. No more raids. No more disrupting my supply lines. No more rescuing people from my grasp."
Silas tensed beside Alexander, but Alexander remained calm. "I need my people to grow," he said carefully. "And the frontier isn't exactly filled with volunteers."
The Baron smirked. "Then take those who come willingly. But you will not take from me."
Alexander considered his next words carefully. He needed this deal, but he couldn't let himself appear weak.
"And if I refuse?"
The Baron's smile faded. "Then I gather my forces and finish this properly. You're strong, Maxwell, but you're not invincible. You're running out of tricks, and I have the resources to rebuild."
Alexander's jaw tightened. The Baron was calling his bluff.
Silas leaned in slightly. "A neutral peace means we both win. Neither of us can afford more losses right now. But if we agree to this, we need to make sure we're not constantly looking over our shoulders."
The Baron exhaled through his nose. "Agreed. We formalize this, here and now."
A truce. A fragile, uneasy truce—but one that would allow Emberhold to grow.
Alexander finally nodded. "Then let's discuss the details."
The first steps toward peace had begun. But peace was just another kind of battlefield.
Kingdom of Varenia
The negotiations stretched into the third evening, the flickering torchlight casting shifting shadows over the rough wooden table. The air was heavy with the scent of burning tallow and damp earth, the silence between Alexander and Baron Lucius Valtor punctuated only by the occasional crackling of the flames.
Alexander exhaled, his gaze fixed on the Baron. "I still don't understand one thing. If the Kingdom doesn't care about the frontier, why can't I simply claim it? Why must Emberhold remain in this gray area of existence?"
The Baron leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "Because you're not a noble. And in the Kingdom of Varenia, that means you have no right to rule."
Alexander frowned. "And that means what, exactly?"
Silas, who had been quiet until now, shifted in his seat. His sharp eyes flicked between the Baron and Alexander. "He's talking about feudal law."
The Baron inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Exactly. The Kingdom of Varenia operates under a strict hierarchy. Land is not something one simply 'claims.' It is granted by the Crown and parceled out through noble families. Only those of noble birth or those elevated by royal decree can hold land legally. Without a title, you are nothing more than a squatter in the eyes of the Kingdom, no different from bandits or rogue mercenaries."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Then why do they allow settlements at all? There have been villages on the frontier before."
The Baron smirked, though there was little humor in it. "Because they were tolerated, not legitimized. The Crown cares little for what happens on the frontier, as long as it remains a buffer between the noble-held territories and the true wilds. But the moment a settlement becomes something more—something with power, influence, or a military presence—it becomes a problem."
Silas nodded grimly. "Which means if Emberhold grows too strong, the Kingdom could see it as a threat."
"Not could—will," the Baron corrected. "The Kingdom of Varenia is obsessed with control. Every scrap of land, every coin taxed, every peasant accounted for. A free settlement that grows into an independent power? That is unacceptable to them. You're safe now because you're beneath their notice. But the moment you step beyond the role of a simple frontier village, you'll find yourself an enemy of the Crown."
Alexander's mind worked quickly, considering the implications. "So, as long as I don't claim a title or interfere with the Kingdom's affairs, they'll leave me alone?"
"For now," the Baron confirmed. "But make no mistake, Maxwell. If you succeed where others have failed, if you truly carve out a realm in the frontier, the Crown will come knocking one day. And when they do, you will have two choices—bend the knee to a noble willing to take you in as a vassal, or be declared an outlaw."
A silence fell between them. Alexander could see the truth in the Baron's words. The Kingdom of Varenia was not one to allow independent warlords to rise unchecked. They tolerated the frontier because it was wild and lawless, but they would never tolerate true independence.
For now, Emberhold was free. But freedom always came at a cost.
The Days That Followed
For three days, the negotiations continued. The finer points of the agreement were debated, challenged, and restructured.
Emberhold would be free to expand into the frontier so long as it did not encroach upon the Baron's established lands.Alexander would no longer raid the Baron's caravans, nor interfere in his affairs.The Baron, in turn, would not send soldiers against Emberhold.Neither side would aid the other's enemies. If mercenaries, nobles, or other threats appeared, each was responsible for their own defense.No official recognition—Emberhold would not be acknowledged as a formal domain, keeping it outside of Kingdom law.
It was a delicate balance, but by the end of the fourth day, both men knew it was the best outcome they could achieve.
The Final Meeting
On the last evening, as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, Alexander and the Baron stood at the edge of the ruined fort, their final words unspoken.
The Baron glanced at him. "I'll admit, I expected you to be another ambitious fool who'd get himself killed in a few months."
Alexander smirked. "I'm still here."
"For now." The Baron's gaze turned distant. "You'll have to be careful. The more successful you are, the more enemies you'll make."
Alexander already knew that. This wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.
With a final nod, the Baron mounted his horse. His men followed suit, and without another word, he rode away, leaving Alexander standing alone in the ruins.
A truce had been forged.
But war would come again.
And when it did, Emberhold would be ready.