For a long time, all Alpheo received in return were the stares of the Oizenian party, a messy soup of confusion, insolence, and raw disbelief at what he had just demanded.

Perhaps the reality of their station had finally begun to dawn on them as time passed, or perhaps the weight of the moment was simply too heavy a stone to lift away from their back. Alpheo couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised; he was, after all, stripping them of their ancestral cradle, the very stone and mortar that defined their bloodline. But war was a cruel host; when one sat at its table, they either left fed or were forced to foot the bill.

Alpheo remained silent through it all, a statue of blackened steel, letting the silence do the work of a thousand swords. He waited until the air itself felt ready to snap before Menna finally mustered a response.

"Oizen has been the seat of our House for nearly two centuries," she said, the lines on her face hardening like cooling lava. "If we relinquish the city, the Prince of Oizen is no more."

Would that be such a tragedy, my Lady? Alpheo mused privately. From where I sit, he’s been remarkably inept at the role.

Aloud, he simply shrugged. "I’ll gladly allow him to keep the title, He can call himself the Prince of the Moon for all I care."

But they city I would not, it is mine.

He wanted it.

"What I wish for is a just peace," she argued, her voice trembling as she realised the cost for that peace she sought.

Alpheo did not rise to the bait. "There can be only peace between us, Lady Menna, for no ’just’ peace can be salvaged from the wreckage of an unjust war. You moved against me, you sought to break my state, and you failed. Now I stand at your final gate with an army that has never been soiled by defeat." He gestured lazily at the horizon. "Your vassals are either marching behind my Falcon or ignoring your frantic ravens. So tell me, what just peace do you hope to strike? Do you truly believe I would settle for a morsel when the entire cake is sitting on the table before me? Do you take me for a fool?I am here , at your capital, at the edge of total victory."

"No," Sorza snapped, his eyes finally catching fire as he regained his voice. "We take you for a greedy man! This is too much! This is our home! We will not bear to leave it!"

Alpheo’s smile was as cold as a winter grave. "Then I suppose you’d prefer to die for it? I doubt you truly mean that. A man who wheels his horse and deserts his men at the first sign of blood is not a man who invites martyrdom. One has to wonder how true a principal is when broken so many a time. Don’t even try to walk that road; you’ll only trip over your own spurs."

"You aren’t making sense" Menna interjected, trying to shield her son’s crumbling resolve, "for you invite a chaos you cannot control. Displacing a ruling House creates a void that blood will fill. The south has no kings, only princes, and we are principalities for a reason.You’d earn the whole south emnity with that"

I already did that with Herculia, Alpheo mused.

If he had survived it then, he would survive it again.

"The strongest man may wear the circlet," Alpheo countered. "I am not creating a void; I am filling it. I am offering you a choice between a comfortable exile and a very short, very messy siege. If Oizen is so dear to you, then pay the price to keep its people alive by leaving it. Or stay, and let the crows decide who is the rightful Prince of its ruins."

"You cannot hope for this to be a lasting peace!" Menna cried, her voice cracking with the strain of holding her composure.She was not doing very good at that.

"On the contrary, that is exactly what I am offering you, if only you have the sense to grasp my hand," Alpheo replied in a soft tone "Until now, it was Oizen that broke the peace. What I am proposing is a peace that could be eternal, or at least outlast us both. We would have no reason to remain enemies if you agree. I would be more than glad to cultivate positive relations with your House once you are settled elsewhere. We may start with a non-aggression pact, and down the road, perhaps marriages between our sworn houses to bind the wounds. One day, we might even be allies in the field"

He smiled at the thought as he leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. "That should be incentive enough not to wage war whenever the whim takes you. You wish for salvation, Lady Menna? Then stop looking toward the princes of the south for rescue. They tried, and they failed. I am the one you must deal with now."

Menna’s eyes narrowed, her sharp mind already dissecting the trap. "You would give us a peace that leaves us too crippled to ever oppose you should you decide that ’eternal’ has reached its end date. You would leave us hollowed out, waiting for your whim to finish us."

"A possibility," Alpheo conceded with a careless tilt of his head.He was the victor that was the truth of that.

Voe to the vanquished , the Romans said.

"But consider my record. Every war I have fought was either defensive or a matter of justice. The Herculians harbored traitors and incited rebellion against my crown.

Your own husband did the same. When I was invaded, I repulsed the threat before bringing the consequences to your doorstep. We made a peace then, and it was your son who saw fit to shatter it. And yet, here I am, offering the olive branch once more. A respite from the killing.A peace that will last as much as you can let it."

He paused, the silence stretching toward the city walls where the soldiers watched in hushed terror.

"But if you refuse," Alpheo continued, "then we have no choice but to end this our way. My army is not known for its gentleness when it is forced to climb a wall. If I have to take Oizen by the sword, I will not be in a mood to discuss non-aggression pacts or wedding bells. I will be in a mood for graves."

"You speak of justice," Sorza spat, his face a mask of bitter resentment. "But there is no justice in theft. You are a thief in a blackened breastplate.You seek to steal my home as you seeked my mines!"

"A thief who is winning," Alpheo countered coolly. "The world belongs to those who can hold it. Right now, you are holding onto a dream that died at the Ford.The iron mines of Malshut are mine. You won’t smell the ore no matter how much you consider them yours.

I am offering you the chance to wake up and live in the South I am making. Decide now. Does the House of Oizen move to a new home, or does it end here in the dirt?"

"You cannot hope to win a siege," Menna countered, "Winter is almost at our throats."

"An early winter, if the winds speak true," Alpheo conceded with a careless shrug that dismissed the threat entirely. "You think the frost will save you? Tell me, how much grain do you actually have left in those deep, dark cellars of yours?"

Sorza straightened, drawing breath to deliver a lie, but Alpheo cut him down before he could speak a syllable.

"Not enough. Do not bother lying; it’s a poor suit on you. Did you truly think that among the thousands of refugees I allowed to clog your gates, I didn’t slip in a few shadows of my own?Most you have sent away, but some?Some of them are still there inside your walls, only waiting for an order of mine to rise up. ’’

That was a lie of course, but they didn’t need to know that. After all if you are the fox play the rabbit, if you are the rabbit play the fox.

’’I know the state of your granaries. I know the tally of your barrels. I can beat this city. My supply lines are bolted to the earth, and I am more than willing to bleed my treasury dry, buying grain from Romelian merchants at exorbitant prices, if it means seeing my Falcon fly over these battlements."

"If you’d bother to raise your eyes, you’d see the Sun still shines here!" Sorza shouted, gesturing wildly to the banner atop the citadel.

"Oh, I see it," Alpheo said, his voice dropping to a pitying whisper. "And it looks terribly lonely up there. Where are its sworn protectors? I do not see the leaf of Duresa. I do not see the winged swords of Sevariorari. I see a small, flickering sun in a very large, very dark sky. If you’d bother to lift the mist from your own eyes, you’d see the truth of your condition: you are already mine. I am simply deciding how to settle the bill and allowing you a moderum of respect by allowing you a choice."

"You’ll not outlast us," Sorza insisted stubbornly, his knuckles white on his reins. "Winter is coming. The snows will bury you while we sit warm behind stone."

Alpheo watched him. He wondered if he truly believed his own delusions. They had purged the city of the ’useless mouths’ that was true did he think that could make him outlast the army?

Though, internally, a cold drop of sweat traced Alpheo’s spine. He knew the Kakunian allies wouldn’t linger once the first blizzard hit, and the farce of the betraying lords was a thin veneer that would crack under the weight of a long winter. If he lowered his terms now, they would smell the rot in his confidence. If he hesitated, the play was over.

So, Alpheo did the only thing a man in total command would do.

He threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t a dry chuckle; it was a deep, boisterous sound that echoed off the city walls, sounding to the soldiers above like the barking of a mad god.

When you are the hare, play the fox.