AR Chapter 515 (Patreon)

“Due to the untimely death of Nyust’Taa Kusi’Wi, the position of the director of this conclave naturally falls to the Clan Head in whose range the conclave is occurring. As such, I, Pliet of the Pounak, call to order this autumnal conclave of the principality of the Misti Hawar. I, Pliet of the Pounak, speak on behalf of my clan. We are present and prepared to deal in this autumnal conclave. What of the others?”

“I, Liertuk of the Manamunaki, speak on behalf of my clan. We are present and prepared to deal in this autumnal conclave.”

“I, Atchi of the Kalaki, speak on behalf of my clan. We are present and prepared to deal in this autumnal conclave.”

“I, Feldan of the Piagtchu, speak on behalf of my clan. We are present and prepared to deal in this autumnal conclave.”

On and on the formal presentation continued until all 27 clans had presented themselves. Of course, the introduction of the conclave took place in the Misti Hawar’s tongue. In the two days since my arrival here, I’d been given the briefest introduction to how to speak in the Misti Hawar tongue, though I’d mostly been taught short phrases and their complete meanings instead of how to actually carry out a conversation. There was no time for me to fully learn the language, and frankly, I didn’t care to. Even so, I found that the language came to me quickly, no doubt due to the stats that had continued stacking up throughout my life.

Putting aside the fact that the conclave was beginning in a language foreign to me, I found it interesting that several of those who presented themselves as representatives of their clans were notably younger than the others. Their bodies bore no scars, and the robes they wore were obviously less ostentatious than those of their fellows. By looking at them, I couldn’t tell which clan might be Fang, Claw, or Shadow. Each carried themselves formally, and they all spoke the same way.

As I had been advised, I stayed where I’d been told to. The conclave itself was taking place in a place Pliet called an amphitheater. It was a hollowed-out stage open to the sky, with rings of seating descending down to the center where the stage was. At the lowest level was where the clan heads or representatives of each clan, I wasn’t sure which, sat. I sat one ring higher up than them, arrayed in a slice of the circular area assigned to each of the clans. At the bottommost level sat the clan heads, and above them, in decreasing levels of importance, sat their subordinates. I didn’t know, nor did I care, what the specific organizational process was, just that the closer to the center somebody was, the more important they were.

With that being the case, Pliet said that it was an honor for me to be allowed only a single tier above the clan heads, and I decided to leave it that way, at least for now. Something deep in my stomach snarled at the affront that my existence wouldn’t be unilaterally seen as superior, but I pushed that down.

“Every clan and every range has presented itself, and the conclave can begin. Are there any complaints regarding the official beginning of this autumnal conclave?”

Pliet’s words were, again, a phrase that I had learned, and they were answered by one that she had promised me would be the one used to complain against my presence here. Exactly as she’d warned, and by exactly whom she’d promised, the complaint arose.

“In this holy, private gathering, none who are not of the Great Hunter’s chosen are permitted or welcome. I, Inuksuza, Clan Head of the Liertuk, demand that those not of the Misti Hawar be cast out from among us. Who is in agreement?”

A chorus of voices called out, so in unison that it must have been practiced. “I object to the presence of those who are not chosen.”

“This complaint is noted and is refuted,” Pliet replied. “Who is similarly in disagreement?”

A smaller chorus answered Pliet, though their voices were just as firm as those who wanted to deny my people a seat at the table. These ones called out, “For the good of the Misti Hawar, for the survival of the Principality, we support the presence of these visitors.”

Then came the final of the phrases I was expecting, again from Pliet. “As the clans are not in agreement, let the visitors speak for themselves. As they are unfamiliar with our tongue, let them speak in the trading tongue, that they may speak and be understood.”

Then began a disagreement from Inuksuza, something I’d been briefed on regarding what he would say, but in this case, there wasn’t a particular phrase that he would need to invoke in order to be listened to. All told, the Misti Hawar traditions seemed exhausting, and the fact that so many steps needed to be danced through for them to even begin talking about the terms of their own surrender was pure stupidity. Even so, I could allow them their formality if they could be convinced to cease hostilities and instead bow down before me.

Several minutes passed, and finally, a consensus was reached. The specifics of the negotiations to occur were something that I hadn’t cared to learn exactly, because, in the end, Pliet had a final trump card to play which the people opposing me couldn’t outright ignore:

I’d slaughtered their army. Did they want to take away the opportunity to negotiate entirely? They’d already seen what the consequences of my people’s aggression may be.

“The decision has been made that the visitor may speak in the trading tongue, that he may be able to present his reasons for appearing here without issue,” Pliet announced, now speaking in the human tongue. “Now, in order to assess whether his presence is permitted at this time, let him address the assembled body of the conclave.”

With an introduction like that, I smiled as I stepped down into the center of the amphitheater and drew on nearly every one of my Skills and Titles at the same time.