"Cerys," Sir Cynwrig said quietly, his voice tight with barely controlled frustration. "These are matters for the Church to decide, not for us. We arenât priests. No matter how close we might be to the Church, no matter how devoutly we follow the teachings of the Holy Lord of Light, the only duty we have is to care for our people in this life. To protect and shelter them, yes, but not to shepherd them to the Heavenly Shores in this life or any other," he said, clenching his fist as he spoke.
Cerys hadnât always been so devout. Pious, yes, as any good woman should be, but no more so than any other. But ever since her younger brother donned the robes of the Inquisition, sheâd spent more and more time visiting him in Maeril.
To Cynwrig, it seemed like she returned with greater and greater zeal each time she came home from these visits. Thus far, it hadnât been much of a problem. Cynwrigâs efforts to help his village prosper aligned well with a significant amount of scripture. They only came into conflict when it came to the punishments he handed down when one of his people was found to be guilty of some minor crime.
Cerys had become much more... strict in recent years and felt like Cynwrig should make an example out of the guilty to deter others from âwandering astray.â He hadnât ever given in to her nagging, and heâd snapped at her the only time she invoked the name of the Holy Lord of Light when punishing their children for misbehaving, but heâd still thought that her growing devotion was only a minor issue, borne of her desire to be seen supporting her younger brother in his quest to rise from Acolyte to Inquisitor. Now, however, he wasnât so sure.
"But we do have the responsibility to consider whether the path we lead our people down is one that leads to the Heavenly Shores," Cerys shot back, turning to face her husband with fire in her eyes. "Or do you think that our duty to our people begins and ends with keeping them fed and protecting them from raiders? What good is a full belly and a safe home if their souls are condemned to eternal wandering?"
"Enough," Cynwrig said, his voice sharp now. "This isnât the time or place to argue about matters of faith. Weâre here to discuss whether or not we should accept an alliance that means breaking with the king and the kingdom," he said, glowering at his wife with smoldering eyes. "Contemplating treason is heavy enough without adding questions about faith we canât possibly answer on top of it all."
The tension in the tent had grown thick enough to cut with a knife, and several of the other knights shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Baron Loghlan watched the exchange between husband and wife with a carefully neutral expression, but there was a tightness around his eyes that suggested he was troubled by Lady Cerysâs words, even if he didnât agree with them.
After all, she was far from the only person of strong faith in the barony, and if she was willing to speak out like this now, in his presence, then there would be countless others who would say the same things in places where he couldnât hear them.
It was Sir Padraig who broke the uncomfortable silence, his deep, steady voice cutting through the tension like a blade through cloth.
"With respect to both Sir Brennus and Lady Cerys," Padraig said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "I think we need to be honest about what âstanding asideâ actually means in this situation."
He looked around the table, meeting each personâs gaze in turn before continuing.
"Standing aside is choosing a side," Padraig said bluntly. "The only difference is how soon weâll be dragged into the war and which side weâll be fighting on when it happens. If we try to remain neutral in the current conflict, if we refuse Lady Ashlynnâs offer and attempt to maintain our ties to the Kingdom of Gaal, then what do you think will happen when Gaal organizes its response to Lady Ashlynnâs rebellion?"
He tapped the northern edge of Dunn Barony on the map, the same area that Sir Brennus had pointed to moments earlier.
"Weâll be the point of the sword," Padraig said grimly. "Gaal will use us as the front line against Lady Ashlynnâs forces because weâd become the closest barony to the Vale of Mists and the heart of Lady Ashlynnâs new kingdom. Theyâll demand that we raise every able-bodied man we have, theyâll station their own soldiers on our lands, and theyâll expect us to bear the brunt of whatever counterattack they launch," he predicted with grim certainty.
"And when the fighting finally starts, and it will start," Sir Padraig promised. "It wonât be in Keating or in Otker or in some distant corner of the march. It will be here, in our villages, on our farms, with our people caught in the middle of it."
Sir Padraigâs expression was hard as he continued, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen his share of battles and understood too well what war actually meant for the people who lived through it.
"But if we join with Lady Ashlynn," he continued calmly. "Then the map isnât so clear anymore. The war could start from Keating, or from Otker, or from any number of other places. It might not come to our lands at all, at least not right away."
"And even if it does," Padraig added. "Weâd be fighting alongside Lady Ashlynnâs forces rather than against them, which means weâd have the support of her witches, her Eldritch soldiers, and whatever other advantages she can bring to bear."
"Standing aside isnât a guarantee of safety," Padraig concluded. "Itâs just choosing to be the first ones crushed when Gaal and the Church decide to respond. At least if we choose a side now, we have some control over what happens next."
The weight of Sir Padraigâs words settled over the table like a heavy blanket, and Baron Loghlan found himself nodding slowly in agreement. Sir Padraig had a way of cutting through complicated political considerations to reach the heart of a matter, and in this case, the heart of the matter was that the option to stand aside was a little more than a phantom, a dream for frightened men to chase after in order to salvage what pride they had left for choosing to run away from the alliance theyâd been offered.
For a moment, eyes shifted between Lady Cerys and Lord Loghlan, wondering whether Sir Padraigâs blunt appraisal would result in another religious outburst or if the Baron would finally offer an opinion. In the end, however, it was Liam who spoke next, and his words carried an uncomfortable edge that made everyone at the table tense.
"Father," Liam said quietly. "I think we need to ask ourselves a different question. Whatâs stopping Lady Ashlynn from simply conquering Dunn Barony the same way Dame Sybyll conquered the Hanrahans?"
The entire tent fell silent at that, and Liam could see the shock and uncertainty in the faces around him. Theyâd been dancing around it because Lady Ashlynnâs offer had been generous and civil, and she hadnât made any explicit threats if they refused.
But Liam understood Ashlynn, and more importantly, the terrifying vampire behind her, well enough to know that Lady Nyrielle would never allow Dunn Barony to become a staging ground for Gaalâs counter-attack the way Sir Padraig suggested. Dame Sybyll was terrifying enough, but Liam had met Lord General Thane, the knight who had trained both Sybyll and Ollie, and who had the strength to occupy the highest position beneath Ashlynn and Nyrielle themselves.
A general with that kind of strength would tear Dunn Barony to shreds long before the Kingdom of Gaal or the Church could send anyone capable of stopping him. So, even though Lady Ashlynn hadnât threatened to conquer them, Liam pressed on, knowing that this was a threat that needed to be considered, even if no one wanted to hear it.