About half an hour later, the heavy fur curtain of the chief's hall was pushed aside.
The Red Envoy, Yaro, emerged first, his sanguine robes a violent splash of color against the snow and timber.
Chieftain Risha followed, her expression carved from stone. Her husband loomed behind her. The traitor chiefs trailed out last, their postures subdued.
Yaro turned, offering Risha a thin, courteous smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Alright. We will meet at the designated point in the evening, then."
"Of course." Risha gave a single, stiff nod. "And... thank you for your... mercy."
The Envoy chuckled. "The pleasure is all mine." He then paused, as if remembering a trifle. "Ah, right. When you come, I will show you something interesting. A demonstration, you could say. To prove my sincerity, that my words about not using your people as mere meatshields have weight."
A cold sliver of foreboding pierced Risha's gut. She forced another nod, her lone amber eye unwavering. "I will await it."
