Way of Overlord
Chapter 107: Durka Decision

Chapter 107: Durka Decision

Previously, the lands of the Brolgadhr were distant, separate from his own tribe’s domain.

Even after Aeryon subdued the six tribes, the vast expanse between them persisted, requiring a day’s ride to traverse.

The question loomed: why had they journeyed this far? It seemed implausible that their visit was merely a routine check on his affairs.

Yet, here they were, without warning or herald, as silent as the calm before a storm.

The Duhai tribe shared no alliance with the Brolgadhr, their interactions scarce at best.

Upon contemplation, the motives driving Aeryon actions unveiled themselves, casting shadows of apprehension upon Durka thoughts.

A heavy sigh escaped inwardly, a subtle manifestation of his growing unease.

It was Durka scout who first caught sight of the multitude, a horde of a thousand mounted warriors approaching their lands.

The mere sight of them sent ripples of fear through his people, transforming the tranquillity into chaos.

At that moment, Durka clung to a faint hope that perhaps their arrival was not intended as an assault.

Driven by this sliver of optimism, Durka dispatched a messenger to ascertain the intentions of this formidable party.

The identity of these riders remained a mystery, veiled in uncertainty.

In the confines of his tent, Durka anxiously awaited the messenger’s return, yearning for news that would dispel his mounting concerns.

Alas, when the messenger finally reappeared, the tidings he bore were far from encouraging.

It seemed that his darkest premonitions were destined to come true, as the most unfavourable of scenarios began to unfold before his very eyes.

As the messenger returned, the weight of truth descended upon Durka shoulders.

The riders indeed hailed from the Brolgadhr tribe, led by their formidable Chief, Aeryon, Son of Rakarys.

The fears that had plagued Durka were now confirmed—Aeryon arrival held no peaceful intent.

With a heavy heart, Durka listened as the messenger relayed the ultimatum presented by the Chief.

Aeryon gave the Duhai tribe a choice, both harrowing in their own right.

The first option was to surrender, to submit themselves entirely. The other is to suffer and to die and to be enslaved. The messenger did not go on detail on what would happen if they refuse, but it could be inferred from the normal practices in the Great Steppe

In exchange for sincere surrender, Aeryon pledged peace, vowing that no harm would befall them.

However, this pledge came with a caveat—a tribute of livestock and people would be required.

Additionally, the Duhai tribe would be obligated to provide military forces whenever called upon.

The gravity of the situation struck Durka like a thunderclap.

Living his entire life amidst the vast expanse of the Great Steppe, he had never encountered such seemingly benevolent terms.

It was customary for invading tribes to mercilessly attack and slay all in their path.

The sheer generosity of Aeryon proposal left Durka astounded, grappling with a mix of disbelief and apprehension.

Yet, while the terms appeared generous on the surface, the reality of subjugation was far from joyous.

A pang of pride surged within Durka, compelling him to question the repercussions of surrendering in such a manner.

Durka himself is a very powerful warrior. And every powerful warrior has their own pride and arrogance

The more powerful, the more prideful. This arrogance create an aura, an aura of invincibility.

In a way it is like a certain charisma that overpowered people.

Just like when Aeryon spoke and his aura seem to infect people, raising their morale, an aura of a conqueror.

So does Durka has that same kind of aura, cultivated in his years in the battlefield. Someone that have such arrogance could not easily be tamed

Would his tribe forever be looked down upon, their dignity eroded?

These thoughts swirled in his mind as he sought solace within the confines of his tent, surrounded by his trusted relatives, sons, elders, and advisors.

Durka piercing gaze swept across the faces of his people gathered in the tent, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and resolve.

He let out a deep, contemplative sigh, his thoughts racing as he wrestled with the gravity of their predicament.

The unexpected arrival of Aeryon and his rapidly expanding tribe had caught them off guard, leaving them teetering on the precipice of a crucial decision.

"I have long suspected the ambitious nature of Aeryon," Durka began, his voice carrying the weight of experience and wisdom. "But the swiftness with which he has reached our doorstep... it has taken us by surprise."

His eyes shifted from face to face, studying the expressions of his sons, elders, and trusted relatives gathered around him, looking at him, hoping for him to have some kind of answer.

The atmosphere in the tent was charged with a mixture of determination and trepidation.

"Let us engage in a thoughtful and earnest discussion. Should we bow to the pressure and surrender, or should we stand our ground and fight?" Durka voice resonated with a mixture of deliberation and urgency.

He knew the decision they made would have far-reaching consequences for their tribe’s future, and he valued the perspectives of his people in navigating this treacherous path.

As he opened the floor for discourse, the tent came alive with animated exchanges.

Voices rose and fell, arguments clashed, and emotions ran high.

Some advocated for surrender, their words laced with pragmatism and concern for the preservation of lives.

Some argued for seeking potential alliances with neighbouring tribes, leveraging diplomacy to secure a measure of protection.

Others, with fervent determination, opposed the idea of capitulation. They advocated for a united front, forging strategic alliances with the Haltur tribe to the north, the Kanun tribe to the east, and the Zlata tribe to the west.

Amidst the passionate discourse, a third option emerged.

It entailed a strategic retreat, relinquishing their settlement but buying precious time to regroup and launch a future counteroffensive.

The vast, unpopulated expanses of the Duhai tribe’s territory could serve as a temporary sanctuary, affording them a chance to rally neighbouring tribes against Aeryon encroachment.

Yet, doubts lingered.

And this doubt is gnawing Durka mind. Durka has always been a thinker even as his reputation as a warrior precedes him

He knows all the conflict between the nearby tribes.

It is very hard to unite them especially when everyone have grudges against one another

The scars of past conflicts with the Kanun tribe cast a shadow of uncertainty on the prospects of forging a united front.

The Kanun tribe probably did not forget that Durka had once cut down hundred of their men.

The Zlata tribe, though not harbouring animosity, might tread cautiously, reluctant to provoke the wrath of a formidable adversary like Aeryon.

The Haltur tribe, already beset by their own troubles, probably would exhibit a cautious stance toward extending aid to others.

Durka listened attentively to the impassioned arguments echoing within the tent’s confines, his face a mask of deep contemplation.

Each viewpoint held its merits, and the complexity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders.

The future of the Duhai tribe hung in the balance, and the choice they made would define their destiny.

"Since both arguments are reasonable, I could only choose" he thought to himself.

They deliberated fervently for nearly half an hour, their voices overlapping and passions flaring, but their discussions were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a messenger from Aeryon camp.

The messenger, adorned in the colours and insignia of the approaching army, strode purposefully into the tent and delivered a chilling ultimatum.

He spoke and from the first sentence, Durka faces changes. His eyes is cold.

"what an arrogant little boy!" Durka shouts toward the messenger. The messenger did not flinch. He simply relayed the message as the word fills in the silence in the tent.

The words hung heavily in the air, seeping into the hearts of those present.

And then after saying what needs to be said, the messenger went out of the tent.

As the messenger departed, leaving behind a sense of impending doom, Durka weariness deepened.

He sighed. And his sigh could be heard by everyone in the tent.

The weight of responsibility bore down on him, visible in the lines etched upon his weathered face.

But they know that they all share the same responsibility here.

His sons exchanged anxious glances, their eyes filled with concern and anticipation. One of them mustered the courage to speak.

"Father!" the son’s voice trembled, a mix of fear and desperation. "What will be our answer to Aeryon ultimatum?"

Another son, his face etched with determination, echoed the sentiment. "Father, have you reached a decision?"

Durka remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the weapon rack at the corner of the tent. His eyes scanned the array of weapons

He got up suddenly and his movement shock the people inside the tent

He takes a deep breath and release.

With measured steps, he approached the rack, his hand reaching out to grasp the center of his halberd.

As his fingers closed around the familiar grip, a surge of energy coursed through his veins.

"Old friend, we have to fight once again" he muttered in his heart.

The weight of the world seemed to transfer from the weapon rack to Durka shoulders as he lifted the halberd, his every muscle straining against the burden.

With a resounding thud, he drove the halberd into the ground, sending shockwaves through the tent.

The impact reverberated, showing not only his strength but also seemingly showing off his resolve.

Some people in the tent that knows Durka since young could tell that Durka had made his decision.

They might discuss with each other but they all know that Durka had the final say. And whether that final say is dooming them or not is irrelevant.

Durka had protected them for many years. They would go to hell with Durka if he ask.

The air in the tent grew heavy as Durka voice resonated, strong and unwavering. "I have made my decision."

...

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