"And I dispute your characterization of our arrangement as 'agreed-upon.' I said I would consider a marriage alliance. I never committed to one."

El'ran's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Semantics, my old friend. We both know the traditions. When one patriarch tells another he will 'consider' a marriage proposal in exchange for specific political support, that consideration is binding. You received your northern waterways access. We agreed that we wouldn't attack your clan dwellings anymore, leaving your clan be.

I expect fulfillment of your implied obligation."

"Implied," Kal'tun repeated.

"That word does significant work in your argument, El'ran."

"Does it?" The old elf's tone remained pleasant, but something dangerous stirred beneath it. "Then let me be more explicit. You gave me your word, Kal'tun. In front of the assembled patriarchs of the clans. You said, and I quote, 'Help me secure the northern waterways and stop the war between the two clans, and I will give serious consideration to strengthening the bonds between our clans through marriage.'"

He let the words hang in the air, then continued.

"I helped you. The northern waterways are yours. Now I come to collect what you promised—your serious consideration, which any reasonable person would conclude has resulted in agreement given the significant benefits you've already received."

Kal'tun's jaw tightened. "Your interpretation is—"

"My interpretation follows the ancient customs," El'ran interrupted, his voice hardening slightly. "You know them as well as I do. When a promise is made between patriarchs, when support is given and received, the debt must be honored. To refuse would be to break your sworn word."

"I made no sworn word regarding marriage," Kal'tun insisted, but Jorghan could hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice.

"You made a sworn word to consider it," El'ran countered.

"And consideration, followed by acceptance of the benefits that were predicated on that consideration, constitutes agreement by any reasonable standard. Or are you suggesting that you accepted my support under false pretenses?"

It was a masterful trap, Jorghan realized.

El'ran had structured the original agreement to be deliberately ambiguous, then provided the support knowing it would be impossible to refuse.

Now he was leveraging that support to claim that acceptance constituted agreement, using social pressure and ancient customs to force compliance.

"Father," Sarhita said quietly, stepping forward.

"Don't let him twist your words."

El'ran's amber eyes fixed on her, and his pleasant expression finally cracked, revealing something cold and possessive beneath.

"Sarhita. How thoughtful of you to return home. I trust you'll be more cooperative now that you've had time to consider your situation."

"My situation?" Her voice dripped with contempt.

"You mean my kidnapping? My forced transportation to your clan against my will?"

"I mean your inevitable marriage to me," El'ran replied calmly.

"Your father gave his word. The customs are clear. Those who break sworn promises must bow before the one to whom the promise was made and offer themselves in servitude until the debt is cleared."

The gathered crowd, which had grown significantly as word of the confrontation spread, murmured at this.

Jorghan caught fragments of conversation—this was apparently a real custom, one taken seriously by the clans.

Breaking one's word carried severe consequences in this culture.

"I will not give my daughter to you," Kal'tun said, his voice ringing with finality.

"Customs be damned. Ancient agreements be damned. She is my daughter, and I will not sacrifice her happiness for political convenience."

El'ran's expression went completely cold.

"Then you admit you break your word. You accept the consequences of that breaking. By the ancient laws of our people, you must bow before me, Kal'tun. You must acknowledge your broken oath and offer yourself in servitude until I deem the debt satisfied."

The patriarch's face went pale, but his spine remained straight.

"I will not!"

"Then you dishonor not just yourself, but your entire clan," El'ran said softly, dangerously.

"Every member of the Nuwe'rak will carry the stain of your broken word. Your trading partners will refuse to deal with you. Other clans will shun you. You will become pariahs, all because you refuse to honor the most basic principle of our society."

Jorghan watched the trap close with a kind of horrified fascination.

El'ran had orchestrated this perfectly—either Kal'tun gave up his daughter, or he destroyed his clan's reputation and livelihood.

There was no good option, no escape that didn't carry catastrophic consequences.

"No," Sarhita's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade.

"There is another option."

Every eye turned to her.

She stood tall, her liquid gold eyes blazing with defiant determination, and in that moment, Jorghan saw something that made him feel like something drastic was about to happen.

"I have mated with Jorghan," she announced, her voice ringing clear across the gathered crowd. "We bonded during our journey here. By the laws of our people, I am no longer available for marriage to El'ran. I belong to another."

The reaction was immediate and explosive.

Jorghan coughed, completely shocked by her words.

The crowd erupted in shocked exclamations. Kal'tun's eyes went wide with a mixture of surprise, hope, and concern.

And El'ran—

El'ran's expression went from cold to absolutely glacial. His amber eyes fixed on the young man beside Kal'tun with an intensity that made the system's threat warnings spike alarmingly.

[Hostile Intent Detected: MAXIMUM LEVEL]

[Recommendation: PREPARE FOR COMBAT]

"You!!" El'ran said, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow audible across the entire space. He looked at him for a couple of seconds, scanning him from up to down.

"A half-blood mongrel. You dare to touch what is mine?"

Jorghan felt the weight of that gaze like physical pressure against his skin, felt the old elf's power pressing against his defenses, testing, probing, searching for vulnerabilities.

He met those amber eyes steadily, refusing to look away with defiance in his eyes.

"She's not yours," he said quietly.

"She never was. She's her own person, and she made her choice."

For now, he acted his part.

He was aware that she was trying to use him to deflect her marriage to the old man, but for now, he decided to play along.

The lie hung in the air between them—because it was a lie, they both knew it was a lie, and everyone present probably suspected it was a lie.

But it was also protection, a shield Sarhita had deliberately raised to save her father and her clan from El'ran's manipulations.

"You expect me to believe," El'ran said, his voice dangerously soft, "that in the few days since she escaped my guards, this half-blood managed to complete a mating bond with a daughter of the Nuwe'rak? A bond that takes weeks to establish properly, that requires rituals and witnesses?"

"The heart makes its own timeline," Sarhita said, moving to stand beside Jorghan. Her proximity was deliberate, a physical declaration of her claim.

"And given the choice between an old patriarch who sees me as property and someone who risked his life for my freedom, my heart made its choice quickly."

El'ran studied them both for a long moment, and Jorghan could almost see the calculations running behind those ancient eyes. The patriarch was weighing options, considering responses, and planning his next move with the strategic acumen of someone who'd been playing political games for centuries.

Finally, he smiled—a terrible expression that promised violence wrapped in legal formality.

"Very well. If you claim a mating bond, then by our customs, that bond must be tested. I challenge you, Jorghan. I challenge your right to Sarhita's hand, your claim to her affections, and your worthiness to stand as her mate."

"El'ran, no—" Kal'tun began, but the old elf raised a hand, silencing him.

"The challenge is issued. By our laws, it must be answered. Unless, of course, you wish to admit the bond is false, that this was merely a convenient fiction to escape your obligations?"

Another perfect trap.

Admit the lie, and Sarhita's protection vanished. Refuse the challenge, and accomplish the same thing.

The only option was to accept.

Everyone was watching Jorghan, and even Sarhita looked at him with pleasing eyes.

Jorghan was looking at the old elf with a blank expression, though his mind was calculating.

Then after a minute of silence,

"I accept," Jorghan said, keeping his voice level despite the adrenaline flooding his system. "Name the terms."

El'ran's smile widened.

"Single combat, to submission or death. One week from today, to allow you time to prepare and make peace with your gods. The combat will take place in the traditional arena, with the assembled clans as witnesses."

His amber eyes glittered with dark amusement. "I look forward to teaching you why years of experience matter, half-blood."

He turned to leave, his delegation falling into step behind him.

But he paused at the edge of the gathering, looking back over his shoulder.

"One week, young one. Use it well. It will be the last week of your life."

Then they were gone, striding back through the settlement with the absolute confidence of those who'd already won.

The crowd began to disperse, shocked conversations breaking out everywhere.

Kal'tun stood frozen, his expression cycling through horror, calculation, and desperate hope.

And Sarhita gripped Jorghan's arm, her liquid gold eyes meeting his with fierce determination.

"One week," she said. "I will teach you everything I know. The fighting style of our people, the techniques that have been refined over the years. You saved my life, Jorghan. Now let me help you save yours."

"Alright, but first we need to talk."

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