A Tyrant, Sort Of

Chieftain Kirak, leader of the Bonecracker Tribe, the dominant authority of this portion of the Red Plains, had more wrinkles than even Elder Gneaxi. He was a standing piece of dried jerky.

He was also classed. Aylin could feel it in some unexplainable way, a source of power radiating from the wizened goblin leader. Was that something he could feel from Aylin, too? Except certainly not so potent. Chieftain Kirak, at a guess, had been classed for a long, long time. A man for whom that mantle had become not so much comfortable as simply ingrained.

Aylin hadn’t known she would be able to detect other classed people, and especially not get a feel for their strength without leveling an actual [Inspect] their way. If he felt something similar from her, could she mask it? If she wanted to be covert and not blare her own classed status? Surely there was. The radiating strength the Chieftain projected was probably intentional, even.

The musing didn’t last long. With the Chieftain here, the conversation was beginning in earnest.

[Make sure you feed everything back to me,] Sable said. [I can’t hear them, otherwise.]

[I will,] Aylin said.

“So,” Chieftain Kirak said. “We are gathered, as requested.” The old goblin had a voice as rough and dried-out as his skin. “We will hear what she has to say.”

As Aylin had noted earlier, the solemnity the collected men and women were treating her with was borderline uncomfortable, from simple unfamiliarity. These grim faces made up the bulk of the city’s brass, the most important leaders they had. Almost all of them had classes, though none blazed in Aylin’s awareness to the same extent Chieftain Kirak did.

Strangely, the respect they offered fed into her confidence. If they believed the act, why couldn’t she?

“She doesn’t come to discuss, or to negotiate,” Aylin said. “She comes to inform you that the city of Skatikk is hers. Its treasuries, troops, citizens, and farmland. You,” she said, sweeping an impassive gaze across the collected leadership, “are now her loyal subjects.”

The words had the expected effect. The silence that descended over the group was somewhat intoxicating—the weight behind Aylin’s words, even if they weren’t her words, and it wasn’t her threat that had made them go still. Even so, being the one to deliver them was exhilarating. Not just simple respect, as she’d always wanted from the clan, but something more. The raw wariness offered to a tyrant.

[You delivered that well,] Sable said. [Though they’re not as angry as I’d expected.]

[Mostly,] Aylin said, eying the group. One of the younger goblins had gone red in the face at the announcement. He stepped forward, growling his response. “You can’t possibly expect us to—“

Chieftain Kirak held his hand up, silencing the man, seeming annoyed. The simple motion had his mouth snapping shut, even if the disgruntled man didn’t seem happy about it. His face remained red, though he held his tongue.

“And who is she?” Kirak asked. “Your mistress.”

“Lady Sable,” Aylin said. She glanced up at the sky with dry amusement, then quirked an eyebrow at Kirak. “A dragon. Does more need to be said?”

“And what are her terms?”

“She has no terms,” Aylin said. “This is not a negotiation. Lady Sable is informing you of your surrender.” Aylin let that statement sit for a moment, then offered conciliation. They couldn’t push too hard, because Sable didn’t want a fight; she wanted a healthy city to rule over, not a burnt husk. In fact, she should bring that to the leadership’s attention. “But,” Aylin said, “she doesn’t seek to bring this city to ruin, either. Rather, to control it for her own purposes. So long as you are cooperative, your lives will, for the most part, remain unchanged.”

“And if we finds a tyrant’s rule unsatisfactory?” Chieftain Kirak asked mildly. The calmness he spoke with was impressive. Of the group, he was the only not shooting nervous glances into the sky, keeping tabs on Sable as she flew large circles around the city. He seemed genuinely unintimidated. Though still rational, hence why he humored this discussion. And why Aylin thought he would yield. There was courage in resisting an invading enemy force, but a dragon? A dragon was a force of nature. It would be the same as not yielding to an incoming tornado.

“If you wish to resist,” Aylin said, “then your fate would be the same of Gadenrock’s.”

Kirak tilted his head. “Gadenrock? What happened there?”

“There is no more Gadenrock,” she replied simply.

The statement, for a second time, brought silence. Aylin wasn’t sure if they believed her, but was the claim outside the realm of possibility? Certainly not.

“I see,” Kirak finally said. “May I confer with my advisers?”

Despite the threat, he seemed unruffled. The others weren’t half as composed. Aylin had gotten, in a snapshot, a quick understanding of why this weathered old goblin ruled the powerful northern tribe. Was there anything that could make him stumble? Even an invading dragon couldn’t.

“If you wish,” Aylin said. “But be aware Lady Sable’s patience isn’t endless.”

“Then we’ll be quick,” Kirak replied.

Aylin nodded, and, with a gesture, Kirak and his leadership ventured to the side to discuss.

[You said you wouldn’t be good at this,] Sable commented.

Aylin almost blushed. [Well, I mean,] she said. [Just repeating what you told me to.] Though, some of it had been improvised. They’d worked together to navigate the discussion.

[Even so,] Sable said. [Their reaction seems promising. They’re less resistant than I thought. I think they’ll listen to reason.]

[And if they don’t?]

Sable didn’t reply, and the implication was clear. That was fair. Though part of Aylin wondered whether she would follow through on her threats. Why wouldn’t she? She was a dragon. But still, for some reason, Aylin didn’t have confidence in either a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. She was slowly gaining a read on Sable, but was far from being able to predict her actions.

The picture of Sable razing the city to the ground didn’t fit in Aylin’s head with what she knew of her mistress, though. Or, sort of? She could see Sable being brutal when necessary. But wholly reckless, carrying through with a threat of uncalled-for slaughter?

Maybe not?

Even if by the stories, a dragon would do so in an instant.

[How long should we give them?] Aylin asked.

The group was speaking animatedly, explosions of voices cutting over each other—except for the Chieftain, who remained serene, if tired-looking. The group of leaders and advisers had walked a fair distance away, so Aylin couldn’t hear anything, but she could imagine the arguments taking place.

She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Chieftain Kirak. He seemed too composed. Most Chieftains were warriors, first and foremost, and all that came with that. The answer was probably simple; he’d at one time been that distinguished warrior, but was now tired of the fight. More of a diplomat. With how old he was, that made sense.

Finally, the bickering cut off. In an amusing display of accidental coordination, nearly the entirety of the group looked up at Sable, who’d been descending, bit by bit, growing larger in the sky as she circled downward. Aylin thought it a clever bit of intimidation. Pretending to be the guillotine’s blade, sinking lower and lower—putting a time limit on their discussion.

As a whole, the group wore furious, but resigned, expressions.

Without explicit surrender—and maybe not permanently, without later resistance to come—Aylin knew Sable had won her first city.