Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 163: Great Loss, Nothing Gained
27 July, 1360. Eberelle County, Northern Islia.
Negotiations between the two kings began at dawn.
As soon as William heard of King Kenneth’s arrival in the Islian camp, he kept himself well hidden. He knew the mere sight of his face was likely to set off Kenneth’s temper in a way that definitely wouldn’t help any treaty be signed.
Instead, William watched from some distance away as Kenneth and a handful of his guards swept into King Edward’s hastily erected large tent. There was the pallor of illness on Kenneth’s face and his expression was that of an utterly shattered man.
Good, William thought to himself in a burst of spite. I hope that son of a bitch is in agony for all that he’s lost.
The princes and the Islian army waited restlessly outside, in the warm drizzle, as negotiations got underway. Tom’s men erected a tent mid morning and William spent time in there alongside his cousin, playing dice to pass the hours. Tom looked just as impatient as William felt. The day stretched on, unbearably long.
By mid afternoon, an agreement was finally reached, the conditions were documented on fresh parchment and the peace treaty was signed by both monarchs.
It was formally decided that the borders between the countries would revert to what they had been back in early winter, before the Moraigthians had overrun Islia’s northern counties. The Moraigthians also agreed to begin their retreat immediately, moving all their forces across the River Caine and back to the Arandar Valley. There would be no reparations paid for the destruction they’d created.
So much blood and sweat and effort, so much senseless loss of life and resources, only for each kingdom to end up exactly where they had started. No more, no less.
William clenched his jaw when he was told of the treaty conditions, especially the lack of reparations. Ducking out of Tom’s tent, he tried not to dwell on the bitterness of such an outcome as he looked across the ruined countryside that surrounded them. His eyes met Tom’s, who looked equally unsatisfied with the treaty but merely gave a resigned shrug.
After brooding to himself for a little while, William started making his way towards King Edward’s tent. He felt duty bound to congratulate his uncle. The end result was flawed, but the Islian side had achieved an outcome that seemed impossible only three days ago.
Our men will live and we can return home, he told himself over and over. Our country can rebuild. Better that than falling in battle or starving to death while our lands are conquered.
William figured the Moraigthian ruler would’ve been long gone by this time. He reached his hand out to lift the tent flap, when he collided with a burly man who was exiting in a hurry. Looking up, William realised to his horror that it was King Kenneth.
Th older man’s sunken eyes stared at William for a long moment, shadowed black with the deepest of resentment. William stared back blankly, feeling his tongue freeze. Finally, he was able to speak.
"This war has cost both sides dearly. Thank you for choosing the path of wisdom, Sire." William said very, very softly. It didn’t matter that both men knew that Kenneth hadn’t deliberately chosen this path, that fate had instead chosen it for him in the cruelest of ways.
Kenneth’s sallow face reddened and he pressed his lips into a thin line as if he couldn’t trust the words that might spill out otherwise.
Watching him, William tried to feel the slightest twinge of pity for the King of Moraigth and the situation he now found himself in - clearly ill, his forces exhausted, his longed-for heir dead and with some of his own lords no longer willing to swear him fealty.
William realised he could find no pity at all in his heart. Not a single drop for this man he’d grown to despise. He instead gave the king a deep bow, as deep as he’d give a pope or an emperor. There was the barest hint of a smile on his young face as he rose to meet Kenneth’s hostile gaze.
William stepped around him to enter the tent. But before he did, his pride wouldn’t let him leave without aiming a final arrow. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶
Aiming his most pleasant smile at Kenneth, William said, "My wife, your niece, wrote to me. She sends you her loving regards."
Then the young man strode into the tent and refused to look back. William could only hope the Moraigthian beast hadn’t heard his stomach growl from hunger, or seen his legs tremble from weakness.
- - -
Only a quarter of the Islian forces received dinner rations that night - the contingent that was to remain in Eberelle County for longer, to oversee the Moraigthian withdrawal. Even with a treaty signed, King Edward was determined to keep an eye on his most fickle ally.
It was decided that all remaining food stores would be left behind with those men. The rest of the army would endure until they could reach the nearest village to the south - well over a day’s ride away.
William wrapped himself in his muddy cloak and stretched out on the ground that night, watching the stars peek between slowly moving rain clouds. They were less than a two day ride from Magdaline Castle, though that building would be all but abandoned. Westerhaven was a further four days away of hard riding.
Regardless, in a week’s time, he’d be able to embrace his wife. He’d soak in the bath and enjoy feeling her wash his messy hair, the way she often had. He’d eat and drink until he was full, then sleep peacefully in her arms. They could resume their lives as joyous newlyweds and put the war behind them. The only souvenir he’d have of the lonely months would be a scar on his left shoulder.
Life could go back to what it had been, to what is always should’ve been. Despite his empty belly, he fell asleep smiling.
