On the day of the ceremony, both sides faced each other with their armies in formation. The atmosphere was tense as Sylas and the three lords came face-to-face.
"Thank you sincerely for accepting our terms. Your Excellency's mercy will forever be remembered in southern history."
"Spare me the sweet talk about mercy and history. Just prepare for the ceremony," Sylas retorted.
The lords flushed red with humiliation at his mocking tone, but they held their tongues. They were the ones surrendering, and Sylas was the victor.
"To avoid any mishaps, we brought our own wine for the ritual. I trust you have no objections?"
"Why would I?" Sylas replied indifferently.
"Then let us each take a goblet and add our blood," one of the lords said.
Sylas filled an unusually large goblet with wine and handed it to the lords. Taking his own goblet, he pricked his fingertip, letting drops of his blood drip into the wine. The lords followed suit, adding their blood to their respective goblets.
