As expected, the Berserker didn't care about the fine print. Once he realised there was a massive, bloody conflict looming against both monster swarms and rival races, he was practically vibrating with excitement. But he did ask one question that forced me to stop the negotiations mid-stride.
[What about this eighty percent of land? How will we share it between my people and Fang's?] Wryly asked.
It was a valid concern. Knowing Fang, that tactical genius would prefer a "might makes right" approach—the most capable force takes the lion's share. While that logic appealed to a certain type of warrior, it was a recipe for disaster with someone as prideful as Wryly.
The last thing I needed was the two pillars of my coalition turning their weapons on each other over a border dispute while the Dragons watched and laughed.
