Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 39: Plans

As expected, the war council is highly strung with tension. Everyone—especially the king—seems tired and weary. They look almost ready to admit defeat. No wonder, when they've placed so much hope in Gilbert and me, only to have Diomedes frequenting us more and more.

"Two weeks, men. We have two weeks to decide," says King Terrell. He stubbornly holds his chin up high, portraying the image of an unshakeable ruler. "However, I'd prefer it if we come to a decision today, so that the necessary course of actions can be taken."

From his words, I guess that his automatic answer to Diomedes' proposal is a big, fat 'no'. Gilbert had already told Captain Eldric about the necromancer's offer, yet the king shows no signs of worrying that his two Champions are growing wayward. I wonder if that's a wise move, to place absolute faith in the Pietists' chosen; or a foolish one, to have that much trust in us.

I can't help but feel that it's the latter.

Somehow, I think that it'll all be easier if I just turn myself into the necromancer. It's me he wants, after all. I'm still not quite sure what Gilbert has to do in the midst of this chaos. At any rate though, I don't think it's his blood that Diomedes is after.

"We will now hold a vote. Chamberlain Aldrich shall hand out parchments of paper, as well as a quill. Please jot down a tick if you think we should surrender, or a cross if you think we shouldn't. All votes will remain anonymous," announces the king. It seems like Chamberlain Aldrich is already ready for this situation—he quickly dishes out stacks of paper placed in front of him, as well as a mountain of sharpened quills.

Distractedly, I draw one parchment out of the stack out before passing the rest down the table. When the quill comes, I immediately pin it onto the paper. However, I stop myself just as the end of my quill scratches one dot onto the blank paper. I should just quickly write my vote now, before I come to regret it. But I can't. Too many thoughts are racing through my mind.

At first, I wanted a cross. Just to prove that I'm not a treacherous snake. And then...I can't say what happened, but my mind reasons that it'll all be much easier if I put down a tick.

Surrender yourself.

The two sides of me clash. One being the Champion side of me, the loyal, dutiful person who'd do anything to protect her world; the other side is the necromancer, the one who's attuned to the darkness, who would easily give in to raw power. Both sides are powerful, but that's not the real reason I'm frightened. No, the real reason I'm frightened is because I didn't expect the Deathslayer in me to be so prominent.

I close my eyes. Only a few weeks back, before I'd discovered any trace of my power over shadows, I would have protested strongly against surrendering. Now, if I think about it carefully, there is a proper reason to give up. Diomedes is simply too powerful for us to fight. If we declare war on him, it'd only be a one-sided battle, definitely not in our favour.

So I scratch a tick onto the paper.

Soon, the rest of the men turn in their votes as well. We all wait in nervous anticipation as the chamberlain starts to count the votes beneath the table. Everyone averts their eyes from him and makes the sign of Pst. Nevlus on their chest, unofficially declaring that they're not seeing what's not supposed to be seen.

"The vote count is thirty-three to seventeen, for against surrendering," announces Chamberlain roughly after about two minutes. The results are not surprising, considering that most of the men here are hard-core warriors who'd rather fight Diomedes a thousand times then surrender.

The percentage of men who think we should surrender is higher than I expected though. Either some of us here are ruthless, logical thinkers, or some of us simply are cowards. I sneak a glance at Baron Samareal; surely he belongs into the category of the cowards.