Negotiations

• Heath Lines, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

The morning was a cool and dry one. The sun had risen about an hour beforehand yet her breath still hung in the air, like a small cloud of fog. Her horse danced a few paces before settling into a gamely trot towards the main tent in the camp.
News of their presence was well known by now, news travelled fast, much faster than some twenty thousand strong army. Twenty thousand armed troops, she almost laughed to herself. A year ago, she would have been happy to accept a single bodyguard, now she had twenty thousand of them.
She reached the main tent and entered, after leaving her horse with one of the stable boys outside.
“No! I have told you before, it simply will not happen!”
“I don’t care what lands you hold or what title you possess, I currently command a much larger army then yours, and, if I am not mistaken ‘Duke’ Robinson, you won’t own anything if it came to conflict.”
“Good morning gentlemen,” she said as she ducked under the canvas doorway of the tent and took everything in with a single glance. “I trust the negotiations are going well?”
“This animal of yours is threatening to attack my land,” Duke Robinson said instantly, sensing a greater authority in the room.
“That ‘animal’ of mine is general Starrett, I suggest you watch your tongue around him, he’s known to do much worse than threaten,” she snapped back, losing her temper for once. This fat man thinks he can actually negotiate with her? The backbone of some of these lords. “Here’s what I think. You provide me and my army with food, drink and women while we don’t destroy you, your family and you land, one piece of grass at a time.”
The fat duke went very pale at that, a single bead of sweat was running down his pock marked face.
“I don’t think you’re telling the truth,” he finally stammered. “You’re bluffing!”
She was getting irritated that this fat man could ruin her beautiful morning just by his annoying manner. The fat man drew a kerchief from his sleeve and dabbed his face with it. She took a deep breathe to try to settle her irritation. Before she could go on the fat man spoke again,
“Who the hell are you anyway, I want to speak with the man in the charge. The man. I won’t be told what to do by some arrogant women without any title. I am a duke.”
Without hesitating, she stepped forward, drawing her belt knife and thrust it deep into the fat man’s throat. He spluttered and gasped a few times, before his legs buckled and he sagged to the floor.
“Let’s burn his land. Burn it all. Maybe there should be a change in power. These arrogant lords think they can continue oppressing the people like this. Time to give the power back to the people who deserve it.”