Knocked-Down Straw Sack (5)
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41910/1654982529769.jpg
"I shall issue a new command."
All eyes turned to the Surpuk Duke at his words.
Everyone expected something out of the ordinary.
But what came next surpassed even their wildest guesses.
"From this moment, I appoint Owen Leire as an envoy. He will also take full charge of our diplomacy with the dark elves."
The statement was simple, but its implications were massive.
"Good heavens! An envoy?"
"Impossible!"
The vassals gasped in unison, unable to hide their shock.
"Kuh…!"
Russell Count squeezed his eyes shut tight.
His legs trembled beneath him, but he was grateful to be seated.
Diplomats came in three ranks: special envoy, envoy, and emissary.
A special envoy was high-tier, an envoy mid-tier, and an emissary low-tier.
Owen had just been named a mid-tier envoy.
For Russell Count, it was the worst news imaginable.
A green kid elevated to full envoy? And sidelining me on this deal? A mere baronet?
True, there was no law barring a baronet from diplomacy.
The East had no dedicated diplomatic corps.
Here, a lord simply selected personnel and granted titles like special envoy or envoy as needed, assigning missions accordingly.
Russell had handled it all so far, with no threats to his position.
He'd built a reputation in diplomacy and was the duke's sole special envoy.
A few other envoys existed among the nobles, but they were mere extensions of Russell's influence.
Now, that foundation was suddenly shaking.
He forced a calm facade and spoke up.
"Your Grace, diplomacy is a grave matter. We don't appoint the inexperienced to envoy overnight. The other envoys have years in relevant fields. If you elevate Sir Leire, what am I to tell them?"
Russell circled his objection carefully, but the duke was resolute.
"No need for concern, Russell. Owen will serve directly under me."
"Your Grace!"
One bold move after another.
Bris lacked a formal foreign office, but diplomats fell under Russell's command.
This had formed factions bolstering his power.
Yet Owen was being pulled out entirely, placed straight under the duke.
Russell's reach wouldn't extend there, and his diplomatic stronghold would creak.
The senior vassals listening murmured in astonishment.
But Russell clung to hope.
He suppressed his rising voice and asked, "Your Grace, are you considering this as a temporary post for this matter?"
It was unprecedented, but limiting it to the dark elf negotiations might make it palatable.
The duke crushed that hope flat.
"It's a lifetime appointment. Unless convicted in court, I guarantee his position."
Lifetime—the vassals' eyes widened again.
"Good heavens!"
"A lifetime post?"
This meant even the duke wouldn't casually revoke it, for the sake of face.
His absolute power in the East allowed it in theory, but appearances mattered.
In short, Owen could blunder in diplomacy, and rivals couldn't easily demand his dismissal.
A blatant shove toward free rein.
"No need to be shocked by a lifetime post! Owen earned great merit in Edel before. He halted the orc advance from the Eastern Plains, and merely granting him a baronetcy felt insufficient. This compensates for that!"
"Hah…"
Russell felt dizzy.
He hadn't dreamed the duke would go this far.
He started to retort, then bit his lip and backed down.
No use. His Grace means to check our house.
The duke's unchallenged rule in the East came from constant checks on his subordinates.
Lately, House Russell's prestige had soared.
Top among the four sword counts—perfect reason for restraint.
The tall poppy gets cut, after all.
The duke would surely use any means to rebalance the four count houses horizontally.
Russell's slip-up had handed him the chance.
Owen wasn't special envoy like Russell, but lifetime and direct to the duke—a massive challenge.
"Russell, any further thoughts?"
Before his stern lord's question, Russell bowed his head.
"None, Your Grace. As you will."
"Thank you. Step back from this matter, regrettably."
"As you command."
As Russell bowed, cold smiles spread.
Betshel and Bris's elders led them.
It felt like a nagging tooth finally pulled.
As one slid down, another climbed the ladder of success.
"Owen Leire."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"I appoint you lifetime diplomat. I expect much from you on this—serve with utmost loyalty."
"I shall repay your faith!"
Owen's status had leaped dramatically.
Once stuck managing the dregs of the Fifth Dragon Stable, he'd shed that image to become a proper mid-tier diplomat.
Especially handling this for the duke—spotlights would follow.
"Good. I'll inform the dark elf queen it's handled as desired. Prepare for negotiations."
The duke sent a reply hours later.
The dark elves responded swiftly in kind.
They requested Owen's visit tomorrow.
He departed at once the next day.
Upon reaching the dark elf camp, a familiar face appeared.
The officer who'd provoked Russell and Owen before.
"We meet again. Well met?"
Owen greeted warmly first.
You don't spit in a smiling face, after all.
Preempt any tricks.
But the officer's demeanor surprised him.
"Welcome. Sir Leire. It's a profound honor to see you again."
He even placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply in utmost respect.
Polite to a fault.
"I apologize for my past rudeness. If I've offended, grant your generous mercy."
"No…"
It was like addressing a superior—Owen waved it off, but it wasn't just him.
All surrounding dark elf soldiers saluted Owen properly.
What was going on? He had guesses.
"May I see Her Majesty?"
"Of course. I'll escort you."
Owen figured another tent meeting like before.
But an open square in camp teemed with dark elves.
"Some event?"
The guiding officer nodded.
"Yes. Today, Her Majesty will bestow a title upon you, Sir Leire."
"What?"
Owen blurted in bewilderment.
A title? Not handed out like bread at a bakery—reserved for the worthy.
Especially from dark elves to a human!
Signet’s dead set on backing me fully, it seems.
Owen and the dark elf queen had agreed to lift the curse and restore their mutual non-aggression pact magic.
Execution pending.
Owen had asked for a show of good faith.
Not demanding tribute—just progress in these talks.
But this?
She must be desperate to break the curse.
Never thought he'd receive a title from the woman who'd stabbed him in his past life.
Keep the 'it would've lifted naturally' bit secret forever. Might get shanked again.
Owen felt an indescribable sensation.
"Sir Owen Leire has arrived!"
A dark elf attendant announced.
Trumpets blared; flanking soldiers raised spears high.
All in splendid gear.
Camp notables lined the sides; at the end, a dais held the queen and her matron aides.
Even legendary witch Kalania Budura, her guard, was visible.
Owen passed the attendees, approaching the dais to bow.
"Your Majesty! Long live! May boundless glory be yours!"
"Come forward, you."
Unlike their private meeting, the queen exuded solemn majesty.
All dark elves gazed with reverence.
Exile or not, her support remained unshaken.
"Owen Leire. You've engaged in earnest talks, bridging our feuding races. Thus, I grant you a dark elf title to deepen our peoples' bonds."
Dark elves murmured in awe.
They'd heard, but hearing it still stunned.
A dark elf queen titling a human knight—unthinkable without her flight.
As the ceremony proceeded, Matron Garuana of the Shadow Bat Family whispered to her favored eldest daughter.
"No dissenters?"
"All good, Mother. They understand it's for diplomacy."
"Fine. Some may grumble inwardly, but no issue."
Dark elves were rational, in Garuana's view—no pointless opposition.
Her assumption shattered instantly.
"Kekekek! What a calamity. Calamity!"
A grating, metal-scraping voice intruded.
Laced with potent magic, it made listeners reel.
Like a gale sweeping the area—not mere sound.
"What in the—!"
Matron Garuana spotted the interrupter and gaped.
It was the queen's own guard, Kalania Budura.
Garuana shouted at once.
"Kalania! Insolent wretch! Dare such nonsense before Her Majesty!"
Kalania scoffed.
"Shut it, whelp!"
Before the legendary witch, even a matron was a novice.
Garuana, fearless usually, faltered briefly under the witch's fury.
"Kalania! Her Majesty is present. How dare her protector act so recklessly!"
"Ha! Queen? Laughable. She ceased being queen when she fled her palace."
"Traitor! Witch! What have the other matrons promised you!"
Garuana's shrill cry drew Kalania's sinister grin; magic flared in her hand.
"Heh heh heh. Better than playing cleanup for a dethroned queen. Sorry—time to tidy up."
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41910/16549825297695.jpg
The witch had turned.
Battle erupted.
"Attack!"
At Matron Garuana's order, her eldest led the guards in a charge.
But the legendary witch felled them effortlessly.
Boom!
With an explosion, many guards burst into chunks; the daughter fainted and collapsed.
Seeing her beloved daughter hurt, Garuana's eyes flashed as she lunged.
"You vile witch!"
Garuana reached for her magic sword at her waist—a Shadow Bat heirloom of fearsome power.
But the witch anticipated it.
She vanished in smoke, reappearing to seize Garuana's wrist as she drew.
"Grah!"
The crone's wrinkled grip crushed like iron.
Her gauntlet dented; wrist-bone pain surged.
"Die!"
The witch reversed her staff, its beast-spike tip aimed at Garuana's face.
Like spearmen thrusting reverse in formation.
Garuana screamed, straining desperately.
"Aaaagh!"
By a hair's breadth, she twisted aside from the stabbing end.
Clang!
Her armor's steel collar tore, sparks flying.
A razor-edge moment.
Owen, right below the dais, sprang into motion.
Other attendees were too distant.
Guards annihilated in seconds—only Owen could intervene now.
https://booktoki469.com/data/file/novel/5895/41910/16549825297699.jpg