Out of the Darkness

“I do not believe you,” the Unkerlanter marshal said. Ilmarinen shrugged. So did Rathar. His shoulders were twice as wide as Ilmarinen’s. One of the junior officers accompanying him, a man with bodyguard written all over him, tapped Rathar on the shoulder. Rathar nodded impatiently. Flanked by his entourage, he walked on.

The surrender ceremony took place that afternoon in the hostel’s dining room, the only chamber big enough to hold even a respectable fraction of all the people who wanted to be there. King Mainardo sat behind a table at one end of the room. A couple of Algarvian officers stood at his right and left hands, both of them looking extraordinarily glum. Grand General Nortamo of Kuusamo, Marshal Araujo of Lagoas, and Marshal Rathar of Unkerlant faced him. Their entourages crowded behind them. Ilmarinen stood among Nortamo’s followers, and had to go up on tiptoe to see over some of them.

Along with the soldiers of the three kingdoms that had done the bulk of the work in beating Algarve were smaller contingents from Valmiera and Jelgava and Sibiu. And Rathar had a man in Forthwegian uniform in his party. Ilmarinen looked to see if he also had a Yaninan in tow. He didn’t.

Nortamo spoke in Algarvian: “The Derlavaian War has gone on too long and cost too much. The allied kingdoms have prepared the instrument of surrender I hold for Algarve. Having caused so much torment for all surrounding kingdoms, having lost her own king in the fight, Algarve now acknowledges defeat and accepts responsibility for the consequences of her own dark deeds.” He walked over to Mainardo and set the surrender document in front of him.

“May I speak before I sign this paper?” the new King of Algarve asked.

“Say what you will,” Nortamo replied. “You must know, though, that it will not change the terms, which are no less than your complete and unconditional surrender.”

“Oh, aye, I know that,” Mainardo answered. Mezentio had been a fiery leader. His younger brother only seemed tired. With a nod, Mainardo said, “I cannot help but recognize that we are beaten. It is a truth. It is plain to all. But I say to you all that our courage, our sacrifice, our suffering, shall not be in vain. You may defeat us, but we shall rise again one day.” He inked a pen, signed the surrender, and handed it back to the Kuusaman commander.

Nortamo also signed it. He gave it to Marshal Araujo. After the Lagoan leader affixed his signature, he ceremoniously carried it to the table at which Marshal Rathar was sitting.

“I thank you,” Rathar said. “On behalf of my sovereign, I too have a word to say. Algarve did its best to murder Unkerlant. It is not sorry it fought this war. It is only sorry it lost.” In that, Ilmarinen judged, he was absolutely right. Rathar continued, “We intend to make Algarve sorry for a long, long time.”

He wrote his name, then called up the Forthwegian officer with him to add another signature. That done, he passed the document on to the minor kingdoms of the east-not that Valmiera would have reckoned itself such before the war began. At last, everyone had signed the surrender.

Nortamo spoke to the Algarvian officers: “You gentlemen will be so kind as to give up your swords. You are now war captives.”

Looking daggers at him, the officers obeyed. King Mainardo said, “What of me?”

“For the moment, you are king of however much of Algarve we decide to let you rule,” the Kuusaman commander replied. “You would be wise to hope you continue in this role, even if you reckon it less than exalted. King Donalitu has already submitted a request for your extradition to Jelgava.”

Ilmarinen happened to know that Donalitu had demanded-loudly demanded-Mainardo’s extradition to Jelgava. As far as Ilmarinen could tell, Donalitu had never in all his days done anything so demeaning as submitting a request.

Marshal Rathar said, “King Swemmel also has a claim on your person, you to represent King Mezentio and receive punishment for all Algarve did to Unkerlant.”

Now there’s an interesting choice, Ilmarinen thought. If I had to go to either Donalitu or Swemmel, whom would I pick? The Kuusaman mage shook his head. Choices like that made suicide look downright attractive.

Mainardo might have had more complaints or protests. If he did, hearing he was sought as a guest-in a manner of speaking-by both Jelgava and Unkerlant shut him up in a hurry. Marshal Araujo of Lagoas held up the instrument of surrender and said, “Let us all, on both sides, praise the powers above. The war in the east of Derlavai is over.”