"And why would I help?" Nimrod scoffed, looking at them with hostility.
Eyna's genius plan to use the Prodigy's identical twin as a distraction was only great on paper.
Their negotiations went awry before they started.
"What d'you mean, why?" Welf asked, seething with rage. "You'd lose these lands without Konrad, too. Whether the nomads or the king takes it back, I ask you to do yourself a favor."
"Without my Master, the Church will return as well," Eyna added, pleading.
But despite them also coming from the tribes, the shaman would not listen.
"You're the ones who brought that girl here," Nimrod pointed out, head jerking towards Stella.
She was only a quiet observer, unsure what to say. She tried to look as small as possible in the tribe's village, but it was impossible with her height and blonde hair.
Her old nun robes didn't help, either.
"She's no longer with them, idiot." The blacksmith looked like he was about to punch him. "Are you actually refusing to save your own skin? After all the spoils, Konrad sent you as gifts?!"
Their visit was disastrous.
And now that the shaman pointed her out, Stella felt like it was all her fault.
"What? So he sends me a few bows and armor, and I have to lie down for him?" Nimrod crossed his arms. "The whole duchy should belong to me, not the leftover loot from his war."
"His war?! Are you hearing yourself?"
The redheaded brute towered over him. It didn't faze the shaman in the slightest.
"Yes. We're talking about nomads, aren't we?" he said with a shrug. "Horsemen. They want lands for grazing and to steal riches from the feudal nobles. We're in the woods and mountains."
This village sure looked poor enough that there would have been nothing to steal from here.
But Stella wasn't about to mention that. She wanted to disappear instead.
Why were these two, Konrad's right-hand man and Eyna, so adamant to bring her along?
"The more we talk, the more obvious how we dealt with the smarter twin until now," Welf fumed, but couldn't do much else. Eyna at his side wouldn't let him go on a rampage.
She tried her best to calm things down and convince him by other means.
"You desire to rule over these lands, so why won't you give it a try?" she asked. "All we're asking is to take your brother's place while he's away. Wouldn't that be what you want anyway?"
"To use me as a decoy, then throw me away once I'm no longer needed?! You're joking."
"Forget it," the blacksmith threw his hands. "He's too dumb to rule, and it wouldn't work with the way he looks, anyway. Konrad is leagues more handsome than this clown."
Whether pissing him off was the right tactic or not, Nimrod puffed his chest.
"We're identical, moron," he groaned, getting into the blacksmith's face. "Open your eyes. We look so similar, he even managed to steal my destiny. For that, I'll admit he was smart enough."
"Stole it?!" Welf retorted. "He did more to help the tribes in two weeks than you, in your life."
"On the king's orders. And with his backing," the shaman claimed, which couldn't have been further away from the truth. If anything, the king made Konrad a target for the Inquisitor—
But Stella wasn't about to join this pointless argument.
It was obvious that Nimrod would refuse to help even if they offered him everything he wanted and more. What his motives were, she didn't know, but he must have hated his twin.
A lot.
"So you're saying you'll cower here during the whole invasion, and won't save your own people?"
The blacksmith kept trying, but with less and less conviction and more anger each time.
"It's fine," Eyna tried to calm him. "There are other options. Zoltan could cast an illusion."
"No, no, you're right," Nimrod changed his attitude, hearing that. "Why wouldn't I take over his title and everything for good?! Who's going to stop a powerful shaman like me anyway?"
"Do you want me to chop you in half?!" Welf asked, his hand shifting towards his greatsword.
It seemed like a terrible, terrible idea to come here.
Eyna couldn't do much in this situation, either.
"I'd turn you into a duck before you could swing that thing," the shaman claimed. "Don't underestimate me, only because my twin was lucky that one time during our duel."
"Lucky?!" Welf shouted, despite Eyna's best efforts to pull him back. "You're delusional."
"Want to prove me wrong?" the twin asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'll take any of you in a magic duel. I'd be even willing to help if you could beat me. But that would never happen, am I right?"
The blacksmith stared at him in disbelief, huffing and puffing. But this was an opportunity.
"I can't cast spells for shit. I can only fight you with this sword," he offered, eager to unsheathe it.
"I said magic a duel," Nimrod scoffed, crossing his arms with confidence. "A blade would be no match for my powers. It couldn't even touch my golems. What about you, puppy girl?"
He aimed that last part at Eyna, but she had no mana whatsoever.
She was a talented girl, but in a fight, she would have been useless.
Especially if magic was in the cards.
The shaman got them there. But as the blacksmith and the purple-eyed girl glanced at each other, a shiver ran down Stella's spine. They were smirking for some reason.
And she soon found out why.
"Neither of us can cast magic," Welf admitted. "But what about her?"
He pointed right at Stella, turning her shiver into an uncontrolled tremble.
"The Church girl?" Nimrod asked, raising an eyebrow. "She smells of death already. Don't get mad at me if I killed her. It shouldn't be an issue with her kind anyway."
"M-me?!" Stella yelped, the first words she uttered during the entire negotiations. "W-wait."
"Don't hold back," the blacksmith laughed. "She will make quick work of you."
Why was he so confident? Did they lose their minds?
She was a necromancer.
She couldn't use those powers, but she couldn't use regular spells, either.
Drain or discharge mana. Manipulate the life forces. That was it.
In a classic duel between mages, she was defenseless. She couldn't cast counters, barriers, or any of the flashy attack magics she saw Konrad and the Demon Lord do.
She stared at Eyna with pleading eyes, hoping she would stop this madness—
But the girl was busy smiling, too.
"Since Master's gone, she's our strongest sorcerer. Suit yourself," she said with a confidence that made Stella envious. She had none. She was about to pass out from the nerves alone.
"Hah, she's no sorcerer," Nimrod pointed out, eagle-eyed. "The mana avoids her like the plague."
So he could even see the mana flow?!
She was so, so doomed. And she didn't even bring the Demon Lord's staff here.
"P-please, let's talk this over," she tried one last time, but nobody listened to her.
"Prepare yourself," the shaman demanded, leveling his staff at her. "If you best me, I'll play along with your stupidity. If I win, I won't stop until Halaima's throne is actually mine."
Oh, and it kept getting better. It wasn't only her life on the line anymore.