NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Cassian’s professional assessment shifted instantly.

His eyes grew noticeably sharper, losing their diplomatic glaze as he processed the implications of the barbarian’s words.

Behind him, one of the senior riders in the crimson formation stepped his horse two paces sideways.

It was an involuntary response, the physical tell of a veteran reacting to something entirely unexpected.

Cassian noticed the subtle movement behind him but refused to turn around.

”The declaration covers all areas subject to the Convention of Verath,” the Herald stated, measuring every single syllable.

”Article seven explicitly removes the northwestern corridor from Convention coverage,” Kane countered, leaning casually against his new axe.

”Which means either your emperor is declaring territorial clarification in an area that was never actually in dispute, which would be highly unusual, or the declaration covers territory completely outside the Convention’s scope. If it is the latter, it means the Convention is no longer the legal framework you are operating under.”

Tilting his head, Kane offered a polite smile.

”I just want to make sure I understand the Menual Empire’s position correctly before I transmit your formal declaration to the queen.”

Cassian froze.

Every rider in the flawless crimson formation went perfectly still.

Their armor looked beautiful, and their horses were magnificent, but none of that mattered right now.

Kane just publicly established, in front of a hundred Menual witnesses who would report straight back to their emperor, that the declaration contained a fatal legal inconsistency.

It either revealed their true target or completely invalidated their legal standing.

Rolling the parchment back up, Cassian tucked it safely inside his chest plate.

”I’ll transmit your question to the emperor,” the Herald promised.

His voice maintained its professional tone, but something underneath it had permanently changed.

He sounded like a man who came to deliver a simple threat and was now carrying back a complicated problem he never expected to face.

”Appreciated,” Kane nodded smoothly.

”Thirty days, as requested. We look forward to the emperor’s clarification.”

Replacing his feathered helmet, Cassian gave a sharp hand signal.

The hundred riders turned with the synchronized precision of a military unit that practiced this exact maneuver a thousand times.

They rode back over the hillcrest, disappearing.

Kessa materialized right at his shoulder, her eyes tracking the retreating dust cloud.

”You just told them that we know.”

”I told them we know about the northwest,” Kane corrected her.

”Not about the tree. Not about Milfheim specifically. I just let them know their legal framework has a hole in it that points in a direction they really didn’t want pointed at.”

”What does that actually do?” Kessa asked, crossing her arms.

”It forces them to make a decision,” Kane explained.

”They either change the declaration language, which means a significant delay while new documents get prepared and the thirty-day clock resets, or they proceed without changing it and essentially confirm the northwest is their real target.”

Stepping up from behind, Rutheus rubbed his bearded chin.

”Or they skip the declaration entirely and just march.”

”They won’t,” Kane disagreed.

”The Herald is a career professional. He came here specifically to establish legal standing. He’s not going to ride home, tell his emperor the legal standing is compromised, and then recommend immediate military action in the same breath. Bureaucrats need their paperwork. That isn’t how these political men operate.”

Turning away from the border marker, Kane looked at his assembled force.

He surveyed the Bloodfang warriors, the Knights of Elfheim, and the barbarian women waiting for his command.

”We’ve between three and seven days before they figure out how to respond,” Kane announced to the group.

”That’s enough time.”

”For what?” Lirael asked, resting her hand on her sword hilt.

Looking past the trees, Kane stared at the winding road heading northwest toward Milfheim.

”For Firlia’s message to reach the Millenia Empress. And for us to get into position before anyone realizes we are already moving.”

He started walking back toward the camp.

”Move out. We’ve a war to get ahead of.”

Hours later, the moon hung high over the canopy.

Moving silently through the shadows, a small strike team slipped past the official border.

Kane took the lead, flanked closely by Kessa, Sira, Brak, and the two Knights of Elfheim.

He deliberately left the rest of his army behind, needing speed and stealth for this specific objective.

’It must be here.’

Slipping down a steep ridge, they found what Kane was looking for.

Nestled in a hidden valley was a forward Menual scouting camp.

Tents blended seamlessly into the surrounding foliage, and the sentries kept their voices down to mere whispers.

It was a staging ground designed specifically for a surprise attack on the elven border patrols once the official invasion began.

’I remember this camp from the game,’ Kane thought, crouching behind a mossy boulder.

’The developers always put the forward scouting unit in this valley. Thirty men, isolated from the main force, guarding the western pass. It was a stupid tactical placement back then, and it’s a stupid placement now.’

Scanning the perimeter, Kessa’s ears twitched.

”Thirty targets,” she whispered, her claws extending instinctively.

”Three sentries on rotation. The rest are resting around the low fires.”

”Six of us against thirty,” Brak grinned, gripping his new iron-alloy shield.

”Those are good odds, Chief.”

The two Knights of Elfheim remained perfectly silent, drawing their metal blades in unison.

They didn’t question the numbers or the strategy.

”Everyone breathe,” Kane commanded softly, unhooking Mjoldr from his back.

”Let your heart rates settle. We aren’t here to take prisoners.”

Sira nocked an arrow, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

”On your mark.”

Standing up from behind the boulder, Kane didn’t bother with a battle cry or a dramatic speech.

He just locked his eyes on the nearest Menual sentry, who was busy pouring water from a canteen.

Pulling his arm back, Kane hurled the crimson axe with lethal precision.

Swoosh.

Bam.

The weapon spun through the quiet night air, a blur of red energy that crossed the distance in a fraction of a second.

It buried itself squarely into the sentry’s face with a sickening crunch.

Squelch.

The man collapsed backward instantly, dropping his canteen as the quiet camp erupted into panicked shouts.

”Someone’s here!”

”Attack!”

Holding his hand out, Kane caught Mjoldr as it rocketed back to his palm.

[World Event Triggered: The Unofficial War]

[Notice: You have initiated hostilities before the conclusion of formal negotiations]

[Diplomatic penalties applied. Combat bonuses activated.]