The Cenél stepped out from under the shadow of the forest’s canopy. To Darragh it felt like stepping out of a completely different realm back into the wretchedness of the real world. Behind him, on a highland stag as well, stepped the young woman carrying her gnarled staff. Her raven hair and tanned skin marking her as outsider. Yet somehow she had come attached to Darragh. Part of his retinue.

In front of them was a hill on top of which a single lonethorn grew. The tree had long ago been struck by lightning. Splitting it open, but it failed to kill it. Now the split tree was the mark of the elsewise insignificant hill. In total only five stags walked out of the forest, but throughout the forest, spread laid the Cenél. Ready with both the tithe promised, and bows and arrows should the meeting turn sour.

“We’re early.” Keyleigh said, looking up at the sun and then at the split lonethorn tree.

“Best to be early for dealings like these.” Darragh said. His eyes were affixed on the horizon as they walked up the hill. Trying to see the Čeleviak. The tension felt far too similar to meeting the Dûnans for the first few times. As the hill began to peak, Darragh got his wish: the dark line of an army spreading far to the left and the right. It was an impressive sight, with more soldiers than he had ever seen in one spot - and deathly quiet too. It stood as a silent forest of spears. 

Breaking away from the army and stealing Darragh’s attention was a chestnut elk, a massive man riding atop it. He alone approached and mounted the hill, a heavy metal circlet on his head. He wore thick quilted clothes dyed red, and had a dark black cloak thrown over his left shoulder. In short time the tall man was already at the meeting tree, dismounting. Keyleigh grinned from atop her stag. “He’s ambitious.”

“He is.” Darragh said as he dismounted as well. He tasted something bitter in his mouth. Still he walked up towards the tree. Alone as well. “Hail Jjonveyo of the Čeleviak.” He said as hit his own chest with a fist.

An immensely thick accent rumbled from Jjonveyo, "I am glad we are speaking." He mimicked Darragh's salute. Reaching under his cloak, Jjonveyo procured a copper flask, corked. Without explaining it, he continued, "I apologize for bringing an army behind me; your message found me already marching - though if this meeting goes as we both want - you have no need to fear your own army, or shall I say 'our'."

Darragh faked a smirk. Though it confirmed both his greatest fear and deepest joy. The Čeleviak were already marching for Ha-Dûna. A lesser leader would’ve offered the tithe and started marching with him. “Before we start saying ‘our’, I need to ask you a question first. Why are you marching for the Dûnans? They’re blessed by the gods. Many times over.”

"So are we," Jjonveyo said simply, "but what's more, is we are marching for a better life for all; to end suffering in this life through unity and charity. The Dûnans stand in the way of this great reform."

They weren’t the same words but they carried the same sentiment. Boudicca had almost told him the same. No more suffering. Unity. Charity. That charity now paid a tithe and an ally in a time of war. Life and time had suddenly turned into a very small wheel. For a second Darragh looked behind him. Towards the four other stag riders and the forest beyond. Which itself became part of a greater woods which housed the Cenél. Last time he accepted those words, war followed less than five years after. Yet the same words kept floating in his mind. [i]You don’t have a choice.[/i] His people were already spread too thin.

For a while he kept quiet. Weighing options. Feeling out ideas. “I offer half the tithe.” He finally said as he turned to face Jjonveyo. “In return to let us keep the other half I offer up myself and the Fakir for your war.”

Jjonveyo sniffed and slowly, very slowly, sat down onto the grass. He placed the flask in a gnarled tuft to keep it standing and looked up at Darragh. "Sit with me." 

Darragh did as bid and sat down. Keeping a distance that might be seen as either respectful or safe. Jjonveyo kept his stoic feature, but something in his eyes glistened approval. His voice grew low, as if the words were meant just for Darragh, "Why are you offering me a tithe?" 

“We’re not deaf. We know what you ask from your subjects. Those who don’t, get the rod.” And the Cenél weren’t in a position to get the rod.

"So you are my subject?" Jjonveyo raised a brow. 

"As hard as it might be to believe, some in this world know their place in it.” Darragh said.

"Then that makes me your Tsar," Jjonveyo lifted the flask, "and the Cenél, Celeviak." He pulled the cork from the flask, "Keep your tithe this season, use it to enrich your people so you may give a full tithe next season. You are the Tsardom, every appendage must be well." He offered the open flask to Darragh, "And as yTsar I request that you and your Fakir do accompany the march west." 

Generous or pragmatic? The question stayed on Darragh’s tongue but he never uttered it. They’d find out soon enough. Darragh took the flask and took a swig. He wasn’t a stranger to the beverage. Some years ago – something that felt like a lifetime ago – the two people used to trade. He handed it back to Jjonveyo. Who sealed the deal with a drink of his own.

“The Fakir you will have.” He said. His words gaining an edge. “But you always had me.” The fire he hid in his eyes shined through now. This was personal for him. “You’ll always have me if you promise me one thing.”

"Speak your wish," Jjonveyo commanded. 

For a second Darragh remained quiet, looking the ground. Clearly going over the words. Then finally he looked up. His eyes intense, yet his body calm. “No mercy. No peace.” he said, his voice that of Ynea, the ice-queen herself. “Thirty years ago I cast my vote to spare them when they were still small.” [i]Now look where that got me.[/i] “I chose peace after their civil war again. Now I’m sitting here.” [i]Selling my people so they could survive.[/i] “They’ve done enough to this land. To my people.” [i]And to my apprentice.[/i] “I come with you if you promise to raze Ha-Dûna to the ground.”

Jjonveyo rolled his jaw, eyes dark and calculating. After a pregnant pause he spoke, "No." It was a simple reply, "It is not the way of the Celeviak to make oaths they are unsure if they can keep. Those who stand in the way of the Tsardom will perish, though I take no joy in massacre and give life to the deserving." He paused, and began to stand up, "You are the leader of this Boyardom of the Celeviak Nation, you must set an example away from blind anger. Fear, sure - punishment, of course - I as any leader will not spare those deserving of it, but I shall not mark a soul I have yet to discover as one way or the other." He paused again as he now stood tall, voice grim, "And know that your wish is possible many times over and has been granted to those who have stood in the way -- this is why I do not agree lightly."

The Fakir and now Boyar remained sitting. It was a mistake, to refuse it. Darragh was already thinking about the war that would come after again. The third one. Would he still be around to see it happen? Would he want to? “Then I will make my peace with that, my Tsar.” He finally said as he rose up as well and looked straight into Jjonveyo’s eyes. “And I’ll sate my thirst on the blood that we can spill.” It wouldn’t be enough but it would be a start. In truth Darragh had no real interest in leading his people after the war. Malgog remained silent to him but Ynea’s whispers were upon him. 

“My people will start joining you in the next few days. Look for stagriders coming for the forests.” With those words Darragh extended his hand towards Jjonveyo. The Tsar gripped it, his hand rocky with callousness. 

"Good." Jjonveyo said, "Ha-Dûna will capitulate be it under a new name or fire. Then, let a new covenant with the gods be struck in its place." He released Darragh's hand, "I will see your riders shortly." The Tsar began to turn back to his army.

[Hider=Prestigen]Jjonveyo = 15[/hider]
[Hider=Summary]Jjonveyo arrives at the land of the Cenel, where Darragh is ready to meet him. Darragh is surprised at the massive army with Jjonveyo but finds out it is meant for Ha-Dûna. Darragh and the Cenel become a part of the Tsardom, now the Boyardom of Cenel and pledge to aid in the war as requested by their new Tsar. Darragh requests Jjonveyo completely obliterate Ha-Dûna but Jjonveyo declines on making that decision so early. He also hints at making a new covenant with the Gods after the fall of Ha-Dûna.[/hider]