Peter had intended to wait until they were desperate. To wait until some of the noble houses of the East decided to rebel against the Caramorts so he could eradicate some of them and therefore lessen their number should negotiations turn sour. However, he hadn't expected that his opponent would be so prepared.

Three weeks before he’d even arrived, it was reported that a party of at least two hundred, filled with representative nobles and their attendants had arrived, led by a woman who could only be Saorise Caramort.

Peter had thought it interesting, when he’d received the message whilst on the road. But when no message followed, he was confident that the Eastern army would not take the initiative to attack. Of course, even then, he had not expected them to take the initiative in this either. A mere two hours after he’d arrived, the horses barely fed and watered, it was reported to him that Saorise herself was waiting on the opposite bank under a green flag.

The East was not wasting any more time, they wanted to negotiate.

Peter couldn't resist going to see the sight himself. He went to the shore of the river, and sure enough, on the opposite bank, at least two hundred paces away, Saorise Caramort stood with two men at her back. One shared her green eyes, so could only be her younger brother whom Isiah had failed to capture. The other seemed older, and dwarfed both of the Caramorts, so Peter assumed he was a General or other high profile noble.

Saorise stared back at Peter and his brother who had accompanied him to the bank. For a moment, the air was still. Even from a distance, Peter could feel the domineering air surrounding the woman on the opposite bank. He couldn't help the intrigued smirk that lifted his lips.

"Hoist the green flag," Peter ordered.

Isiah looked surprised, "We're not going to wait?"

"Did no one ever teach you that it's rude to keep a lady waiting?"

Isiah, a good seven years younger than Peter at a mere seventeen, rolled his eyes, then indicated to the men behind him. After a minute, Peter heard the fluttering of the green flag behind him. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Saorise. She waited for a moment, staring right back at him. Then she took up the bow she'd been leaning on, nooked an arrow that seemed to have a scroll tied to its shaft, drew back the bow string, and fired across the river.

"Look out!" Isiah called, moving to shove his older brother out of the way. But Peter didn't move, and the arrow landed in the ground just a meter in front of him.

He moved his eyes to look down at it, then knelt and took the rolled paper from the arrow's shaft. He had to admit, the girl had good aim and strength to be able to shoot that far.

He read the note quickly.

"To the newly crowned King of Wendolan, Peter Octavius Westfold. I, Saorise Caramort and my Eastern brothers and sisters, have decided that in order to prevent further bloodshed, whether from prisoners or free men, we should request to meet half a day's ride upstream at the Port of Dathow Han in two days. There, an emissary vessel that seats a dozen men shall wait on each shore to take both party's representatives to the leisure vessel Amarn. Should an inspection of the vessel be requested, both parties will allow two individuals to inspect the vessel first before reporting the vessel's situation to their superiors. This is done in the good faith and trust between two peoples under the flag of negotiations. It is requested that a list of the nobles captured alive and the number of prisoners of war be sent prior to the negotiations". Peter finished reading the letter aloud to his brother, then passed it over, "It's signed by what I assume are all the Eastern noble representatives present on the far shore".

Isiah read over the contents before he looked down at his squatting brother who stared across the river at the waiting Saorise.

"You think they are legitimate in their claims?" asked Isiah, "I've never heard of the East negotiating before".

"The East, I dare say, has never had a Saorise Caramort," Peter stated.

"Sire?" Isiah asked, waiting for clarification. Peter sighed and stood.

"That woman has been there for three weeks, her younger brother makes no efforts to impose upon her and the other older and more experienced nobles, whether already here or having arrived with her, seem to have no protest to what she is doing,” Peter summarised, "She has the entire Eastern Peoples under her control, waiting may insight some sort of uprising, but I’d wager that would take months, and she’d likely have some alternative plan anyway. Besides, I’m here to conquer the East, not wipe it from existence. We’ll see what her rules are and play them to our advantage. Get me a pen and paper".

***

Saorise had watched the man she knew to be Peter Octavius. She knew from his burning amber eyes. She'd never seen him in person before but the moment she met his gaze she'd known who he was. He was certainly not what the rumours made him out to be. At least, not entirely. There was a brain on those broad and muscular shoulders so he can't have been an idiot. The whoring had yet to be seen.

What disturbed her more was how familiar those amber orbs were. The dream she'd had after she'd collapsed back at the Keep had become recurring. She could only remember pieces after she awakened, but those eyes...she would never forget them. They followed her just as much as she followed them through that dreamland. She did not like that they belonged to him, and it would be a cold day in Reivan's Maze before she ever asked him or even hinted to him about the dreams.

Saorise watched as he composed a letter, then took his own bow and fired his reply back across the river. She had not expected him to fire it himself. After all, there was no record of him having participated in a war effort before. No one had told tales of his prowess as a warrior. But when the arrow embedded itself into the staff holding her green flag, she could not help the impressed smirk that adorned her fair face. The whoring, idiot crown prince was certainly leaving the impression of a Warrior King. She took the letter and read it. It was not as formally composed as her own.

"You shall have your meeting, little Saorise, so send your men to prepare the boats. I'd prefer a padded cushion if you can manage it. You'll have your lists by tomorrow evening. Though I can't promise the aim will be as precise considering I won't be sending it myself. P"

Saorise rolled her eyes at the nickname. Then handed the letter to the general.

"Our guest King desires a cushion for his royal arse on the Amarn," Saorise mused, "See to the preparations, General".

"Aye, My Lady".