The Highcrag envoy was not what Noella expected.
She had anticipated a grizzled warrior, all scars and bluster. The man who stood in the small audience hall was in his late forties, lean as a whip, with a closely trimmed grey beard and eyes the colour of slate. He wore functional, high-quality travelling leathers, not ceremonial armour. His name was General Doric, and he moved with the economical grace of a man who had ended a dozen lives before breakfast as a matter of course.
His two guards were mountains of muscle, standing rigidly behind him, their hands resting on axe hilts. They had been disarmed at the gate, but they were weapons in themselves.
General Doric bowed, precisely deep enough to be respectful without being subservient. "Princess Noella. King Alistair. On behalf of King Borin of Highcrag, I bring greetings and… congratulations."
His voice was gravelly, but his words were carefully placed. He didn't look at Volsei, who stood like a statue to Noella's left, but Noella felt the general's attention there, a constant, calculating pressure.
"Congratulations are an interesting choice of word, General," Noella said, seated on a simple chair that served as a modest throne. "For what occasion?"
"For your recent… agricultural reclamation," Doric said, a faint smile touching his lips. "The Blackwood. We hear you cleared out a significant blight on the land. Two hundred and fifty tons of troublesome weeds, I believe."
So. They knew the numbers. Their spy network was good.
"We are diligent farmers," Noella replied. "We believe in securing our borders. Please, convey our thanks to King Borin for his notice. To what do we owe the honour of a personal visit from one of Highcrag's foremost generals?"
Doric's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Direct. I appreciate that. Highcrag appreciates that. We are a kingdom of stone and iron. We value strength, results, and clear speech. Your… results… have drawn our attention."
He finally let his gaze slide to Volsei. "It is said a single man can reap a harvest where an army would fail. A new kind of scythe."
Volsei said nothing. He looked back at the general with utter vacancy.
"Eden values all its tools," Noella said, steering his attention back. "Some are simply more specialized."
"Indeed. Specialized tools can win wars. My king is interested in such tools. He is also a practical man. He sees a neighbour who has, against all odds, secured its soil. A neighbour who now faces the inevitable… fertilizer runoff from Tombsrose. Such runoff can poison the land for years."
He was talking about retribution. The coming war.
"Eden will manage its soil," Noella said.
"Alone?" Doric raised an eyebrow. "Tombsrose will not send farmers next time. They will send fire. They will salt the earth. They have treaties with the mountain clans to our north, keeping our forces watching the peaks. They will throw everything at you to erase the humiliation."
"Your assessment of our peril is noted," Noella said, her tone cool. "What is Highcrag's proposal?"
"A mutual defence pact," Doric stated. "Highcrag recognizes the sovereignty of Eden and pledges military support in the event of a full-scale invasion by Tombsrose or its proxies. In return, Eden shares the schematics and training methodology for its… new agricultural implement." He nodded again towards Volsei. "The technique that cleared the Blackwood."
There it was. The Iron Price. They didn't want an ally. They wanted a weapon blueprint. They saw Umbra Scindo as a deployable technology, not a personal power.
Noella let the silence hang. She felt Volsei's stillness deepen beside her.
"The 'implement,' as you call it, is not a crossbow or a catapult, General," she said. "It is a manifestation of a unique… biological and metaphysical aptitude. It cannot be mass-produced, nor can its principles be easily transferred. It is akin to asking you to teach a fish to breathe granite."
Doric's eyes narrowed. "All power has a source. All technique has a principle. Our savants are not without skill. We wish to study the principle. To understand it. For mutual security."
"To replicate it," Noella corrected.
"To appreciate it," Doric countered smoothly. "And to ensure it is not turned against us in future. Knowledge is the bedrock of trust."
It was a threat wrapped in reason. If you don't give it to us, we must assume you are a threat.
Noella leaned forward slightly. "Let me counter-propose, General. Eden and Highcrag enter into a non-aggression and intelligence-sharing accord. We will provide your kingdom with detailed analysis of Tombsrose's current military composition, tactics, and weaknesses—data we have acquired firsthand. We will also open limited trade for Highcrag iron and Eden timber. In exchange for your pledge of neutrality in any conflict between Eden and Tombsrose, and a commitment not to hinder our trade routes."
She was offering information and economics, not the crown jewel. She was also asking him to stand aside, not to fight for her.
Doric studied her. "Information is perishable. Iron is common. What you possess is… unique. My king's interest is in the unique."
"And my interest," Noella said, her voice dropping a degree, "is in the survival of my kingdom without making it a vassal to a new master who covets its secrets. You ask for the seed of our strength. I offer you the fruit of our intelligence. Take it, and we have the beginning of trust. Demand the seed, and you get nothing but a closed gate and a name added to our list of potential adversaries."
The air in the room grew taut. One of Doric's guards shifted his weight, a subtle threat.
Volsei's head turned, just an inch, to look at the guard. The man froze.
General Doric noticed. A flicker of something—respect? irritation?—crossed his face. He had assessed the silent dynamic. The weapon was loyal to the princess. It would not be bargained for separately.
"You are as shrewd as the rumours say, Princess," Doric said, breaking the silence. "A counter-proposal, then. Let us see the fruit. A demonstration. Not of the unique implement, but of the military capability it has… enabled. Let my arms-master observe your new 'Ghost' unit in training. Let me see the mind that harnesses such power. If I am impressed, I will recommend the intelligence accord to my king. If I am not, I will depart, and Highcrag will consider Eden an unstable, and thus dangerous, variable in the regional equation."
It was a test. He wanted to see if Noella's strength was just Volsei, or if she had built something institutionally durable.
Noella held his gaze. "Agreed. Tomorrow at dawn. The training grounds. You may bring your arms-master. Kael will be your escort."
Doric bowed again. "Until dawn, Princess."
He and his guards were led out.
When the door closed, Alistair let out a shaky breath. "He wants to steal Volsei."
"He wants to understand him," Noella corrected, standing. "And if he can't understand, he wants to neutralize. By alliance or by destruction."
Volsei spoke, his first words of the audience. "He's not wrong. I am a weapon. He's a general. He sees the world in weapons."
"You are not just a weapon," Noella said, turning to him. "You are a person. A sovereign variable. That is what he cannot compute. And that is our advantage."
She looked at the door where Doric had exited. "Tomorrow, we show him that Eden's strength isn't one tool. It's a whole new workshop."