Into The lion’s Den

Hello everybody!

Here is a new chapter!

Thank you Dekol347, Microraptor, Daoistssr6xe, Porthos10, Me_jelly, Shingle_Top, Mium, aon_8940, ThisguyAEl, First_Time_**** and Ranger_Red for the support!

Enjoy!

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Adam and his modest escort, surrounded by Iroquois warriors, may not have been at ease, but they did not let it show.

A keen observer, however, might have noticed a slight tremor in their hands or a drop of sweat on the forehead of one of these rigidly postured men.

The soldiers silently prayed that none of their captors would decide to keep their precious scalps as trophies.

They could keenly feel dozens of eyes upon them, filled with both curiosity and distrust.

Although their two peoples had been trading for several months now, the French rarely ventured this far.

Until now, it had always been the Iroquois who brought their goods to the French to trade before returning with new merchandise.

For obvious reasons, they still harbored deep suspicion toward the French.

I-it's going to be fine, Adam thought, keeping a wary eye on the actions of everyone around him—especially the fearsome-looking warriors.

It seemed as if the entire village had gathered, either to welcome them or to keep a close watch.

The warriors and the elders appeared the most distrustful.

Adam could clearly see the hostility in their eyes.

The energetic young Tehonwaskaron was speaking animatedly with the villagers, answering their questions with enthusiasm.

One might have thought he was a little hero bringing back war prisoners.

Unfortunately, Adam could only understand a few words of what he was saying.

As he discreetly glanced around, his eyes caught sight of Onatah—the young and strikingly beautiful Mohawk woman he had met during his previous stay in the village.

Her face, her grace, and her quiet dignity had left such an impression on him that he had never been able to forget her.

She still seemed to him the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, in this life or any other.

Her long, sleek hair cascaded over her delicate shoulders like a waterfall of ink, framing her enchanting face. Her large, dark eyes captured all the light in the world, inviting those who dared meet her gaze to lose themselves in it forever.

Her dusky skin gleamed under the gentle sunlight like polished copper, and her full lips seemed to whisper a thousand promises.

Her clothing was simple and modest, yet it suited her perfectly. In truth, Adam doubted any garment could possibly look ill-fitting on such a beauty.

She wore a plain yellowish dress, adorned with subtle blue patterns along the edges, cinched at the waist with a finely crafted leather belt. A small animal-skin pouch hung across her chest, faintly outlining a shape beneath the fabric.

She wore no headband or jewelry—she had no need of such adornments to look radiant.

For the second time, Adam fell under her spell.

Unfortunately, she was also Tehonwaskaron's sister and the daughter of Chief Akwiratheka.

The soldier and the young woman—who was not yet an adult—exchanged a fleeting glance, and Adam felt his heart skip a beat.

To his great surprise, he thought he saw her blush before she suddenly turned and ran in the opposite direction.

W-what's going on?! Why is she running away?

He glanced behind him but saw nothing unusual—only the Mohawks observing his soldiers up close, scrutinizing them as if assessing merchandise.

Could it be because of me? Or is it simply our presence? Damn it, I knew I should have come alone!

At that moment, the village matriarch appeared at the entrance of the settlement.

A respectful silence fell over the crowd, and the villagers parted to clear a path for her.

Her staff, heavy in her worn hands, struck the ground with each step, like a blacksmith's hammer upon an anvil.

She stopped a few paces from Adam, her expression severe.It was impossible to discern any emotion from her nearly shut eyes.

"You took longer to return than I expected, boy. Ah, and you've arrived at the worst possible time."

"A-ah? What's happening?" Adam asked, suddenly uneasy.

"Our English friend is here, in our village. He is in the chief's longhouse."

Fuck! Am I too late?!

A rush of thoughts flooded Adam's mind, fearing his mission had already failed before he could even attempt to sway the chief.

"Our chief is keeping him occupied for now, so we must hurry. Follow me—quickly," the old woman commanded with authority.

"W-where to? Should my men come too?"

"Of course. Now move! Brother Warraghiyagey must not know you're here."

She struck the ground once more with her richly decorated staff, adorned with intricate carvings.

She then uttered a few words in her native tongue—words that sounded ominous to the four soldiers standing slightly behind Adam.

Upon hearing this, the villagers all nodded with very serious expressions and stepped back, forming an increasingly wide circle.

Adam and his men advanced under the piercing gazes of the Mohawks and entered the modest village, passing in front of the imposing engraved stone left by the Great Peacemaker before silently stepping into an ordinary longhouse.

"Wait here for a moment," the matriarch said in a lower tone. "I'm going back to our chief to make sure he hasn't done anything foolish in my absence and to let him know that I allowed you in. I'll be back soon."

With that, the matriarch disappeared, leaving the Frenchmen alone.

They all let out a massive sigh of relief.

"Wow! I was so scared!" whispered soldier Tournier, still trembling.

"I thought I was going to die just now!" complained soldier Leduc, who was in a similar state. "They wouldn't stop touching me!"

"Calm down," said soldier Petit coldly, his single eye gleaming with a menacing light. "Nothing is won yet. We should avoid talking. These walls probably don't muffle sound well. She mentioned an Englishman… We can't let him find us."

"Bah, there are five of us, and he's alone," retorted soldier Beauregard, a sinister glint in his dark eyes.

"Silence," Adam cut in sharply, asserting his authority over the small group of soldiers. "That Englishman, as she said, is their friend. If we kill him, we won't get out of here alive."

The four soldiers fell silent, plunging the longhouse into a heavy stillness, as if they were standing at the scene of a crime.

The five men sat on either side of the central corridor, saying nothing.

After a minute, Leduc dared to ask:

"Captain, who was that old woman? She spoke our language perfectly and seemed very important."

"She is. She's the matriarch. Consider her the chief's main advisor."

"So, like a minister?" Tournier said in surprise.

"More or less," Adam said simply with a nod. "Maybe even more important, since she seems to play a key role in their rites and ceremonies."

"But she's a woman!" blurted out Leduc, instantly regretting saying his thoughts out loud.

"And so what?" Adam hissed through his teeth. "Don't forget that you're not on French soil. This is their land, and they govern it as they see fit. We have no lessons to give them, nor they to us, so keep your comments to yourself, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Adam got up and moved toward the entrance, trying to see what was happening outside through a tiny opening near the door.

As he turned his back on his men, he caught a whisper, not nearly quiet enough.

"Well, I just hope they don't ask us to strip and put feathers in our hair. They can shove them up their asses and make bird calls."

Adam turned around without a word, glaring daggers at his men.

Shortly afterward, the matriarch returned and gestured for Adam and his men to follow her to the chief's longhouse.

Naturally, his men were stopped at the entrance, and only Adam was allowed inside the imposing building.

Inside, Chief Akwiratheka was waiting for him, massive as a bear, wearing an impressive, colorful headdress, predominantly red and black feathers.

The bulging muscles of his torso and right arm—his left hidden beneath a thick red cape draped across his chest—were exposed with pride, much like a European would display fine clothing, luxurious furniture, or masterful paintings.

They gave the impression that this extraordinary man was bulletproof.

The moment Akwiratheka saw Adam enter, he leapt to his feet, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You filthy little shit, you disgusting dick-eating insect! How dare you show your face before me?! In my house?! Your scalp is mine, Frenchman!"

Adam froze in terror, and it was only through sheer willpower that he managed to take a step back under the immense pressure this giant exerted.

He wanted to retreat, to call for his men's help, but Akwiratheka was already upon him.

A massive hand seized him roughly by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground, and with a swift, unhesitating motion, the chief drew a long knife that had clearly seen much use on the battlefield.

Before the horrified eyes of his children—especially Tayoheseron, his second son—he brought the blade dangerously close to Adam's forehead.

"Father?! What are you doing?!" Tayoheseron cried, rushing to his friend's aid.

"Father, calm down!" his eldest son shouted, reacting as swiftly as his younger brother.

Tayoheseron grabbed his father's armed hand and managed, with difficulty, to hold him back before he did something terrible.

Kahionhes grabbed his father's left arm but couldn't free the Frenchman.

It was as if he were trying to uproot a tree with his bare hands.

The chief's two sons bought just enough time for the matriarch to step in. Of course, she didn't throw herself at the chief—that would have been ridiculous.

The difference in strength and age between them was as vast as the sky and the earth. A single slap from him would have been enough to kill her outright.

"Akwiratheka! Stop that!" thundered the matriarch. "What do you think you're doing to our guest?!"

It was very rare to see the matriarch so furious. Her voice cracked like thunder in the longhouse, alerting the soldiers outside.

However, they could do nothing, as their way was blocked.

Akwiratheka, surprised, turned his gaze away and fixed his eyes on his adoptive sister, who was exerting a pressure similar to his own.

Yet, he refused to be intimidated and roared:

"Matriarch! This dog is the bastard who threatened Rawenniyo! He must die!"

"F-Father, calm down!" Tayohseron cried out once again. "He's a friend! He's the one who became my brother! I gave him the wampum belt, and we smoked the calumet together!"

"What?! With him?!" the chief spat, his face twisted by the emotions overwhelming him, preventing him from thinking clearly.

His bloodshot eyes turned to his son, and his muscles swelled further as if he were about to explode.

His veins, thick as serpents, ran along his arms and neck.

The chief, larger and stronger than his two sons, resisted and refused to let go.

Adam, still held firmly by the collar, was slowly turning blue, struggling in vain, never taking his eyes off the blade.

Their deafening screams echoed outside the building.

The Mohawks were struggling to keep the soldiers from bursting in, and if not for the intervention of a few highly experienced warriors, they would have succeeded.

They forced the soldiers to their knees and pinned them to the ground.

"You fucking bastards! What are you doing to our captain?!"

"Cowards! We trusted you!"

"Let us go!"

"Savages! If anything happens to him…"

The Iroquois did not understand what these soldiers were saying, nor did they grasp what was happening inside the chief's longhouse.

All they knew was that no one could be allowed inside.

Most of them had stepped back, frightened by all the commotion.Inside the longhouse, the scene might have been comical if Adam hadn't turned completely blue and been shaken like a ragdoll.

Finally, a cry more powerful than the others silenced the group.

"SILENCE!"

The chief, now purple with rage, turned his head toward the matriarch, who was glaring at him.

Yet, he still refused to release the poor officer.

"Let him go!" she continued in an icy tone. "You're disgracing our hospitality."

"Our hospitality?! I refuse to extend it to him! He is not welcome here! I was wrong to give my approval. I want them all gone immediately!" the chief growled, turning his steely gaze back to the Frenchman.

"Akwiratheka."

This time, the chief froze, for that tone—he had heard it only once before, and it had left a deep mark on him.

Back then, he had crossed the line.

Slowly, he turned toward his sister, who stood within arm's reach.

Her eyes, barely visible, looked like an immense void, and the air around her seemed denser.

She was exerting such an intense pressure that even the chief felt intimidated.

She was not the daughter of the great Hendrick Theyanoguin for nothing.

"Let him go, you've done enough. Go sit down."

The great warrior remained silent, uncertain of how to react. He didn't want to lose face, but he also didn't want to anger his sister further.

Like a sulking child, he clicked his tongue loudly and finally let go, allowing Adam to breathe normally again.

The young captain collapsed heavily to his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his poor, overworked heart.

Wary but understanding, he kept an eye on the Mohawk chief, who returned to his place on a stretched-out hide on the floor.

Watching him, one might have thought that all the previous turmoil had been just an illusion.

Tayohseron also let out a sigh of relief and sat beside him.

The matriarch then invited Adam to take a seat and joined them.

Akwiratheka, his eyes sharp as daggers, glared at Adam as if he were about to devour him alive.

Slowly, Adam sat across from the chief on a thick and incredibly soft hide, making the ground strangely comfortable.

A small fire separated Adam from the Mohawk leader, a thin column of white smoke rising from it, escaping the building through ingeniously designed openings in the ceiling.

"Well," the matriarch said in a soothing tone, "our deepest apologies for the previous scene. It seems you've already met our chief under… hmm, unfortunate circumstances. Is it true that you were the one who took his son hostage during the siege of Fort Edward?"

"Yes, matriarch, that is what happened," Adam admitted, lowering his head. "His son was our prisoner, and I was with him when your chief and his warriors entered the fort to free him. I was in danger, so I used him as a shield to avoid being killed."

The matriarch, who had naturally heard of this story, let out a deep sigh.

Luckily, her nephew had returned safe and sound; otherwise, nothing could have been done to save this young man's life.

"Well… What's done is done. It won't be easy to appease him. My brother is very resentful and has a long memory. I hope you haven't come to bring us trouble, young man."

The young captain bit his lower lip and glanced at the chief, who was watching him like a sworn enemy.

"I think, before anything else, I should offer my apologies. Both for the chief's son and for this intrusion."

Before the matriarch could say anything, Adam bowed very low before the chief.

"I beg you, great chief, to forgive me. I hope we can forget the past and have good relations in the future."

The chief did not flinch upon seeing him bow. The matriarch translated Adam's words to Akwiratheka, who did not speak a word of French.

The latter grimaced as if he found Adam's apology ridiculous, barely restraining himself from spitting his contempt at the guest he would have gladly done without.

"The reason for my presence today," Adam continued, his heart filled with doubt despite the fact that this was his idea, "is to ask for your help."