"Naethin’ irregular? He wasnae even supposed tae be there! That invitation was meant fer his cousin's branch of the clan, nae him!"
"The invitation was addressed tae Clan MacDonald. Tòrr MacDonald is the laird of that clan. Technically, he had every right tae attend."
"Technically." Roderick spat the word like a curse. "Ye're hidin’ behind technicalities while me position within the Pact crumbles?"
Campbell's expression hardened. "Sit down, Munro, and lower yer voice. Me guards dinnae need tae hear ye whinin’ like a child who lost a game."
Roderick wanted to refuse, to storm out, to do anything but submit to Campbell's authority. But he needed the man's support too badly.
He sat.
"Better." Campbell poured two glasses of whisky and pushed one across the table. "Now. Let's discuss this like civilized men, shall we?"
"There's naethin’ civilized about what MacDonald did."
"Wasnae there? He saw an opportunity, seized it, and outmaneuvered us both. That's nae uncivilized. That's clever."
"It was a betrayal of everythin’ the Pact stands fer!"
"The Pact stands for stability, Munro. Fer order. Fer controllin’ the Highlands through strategic alliances." Campbell took a slow sip of whisky. "MacDonald's actions were disruptive, aye, but they werenae illegal. And that's our problem."
"Then we make them illegal. We challenge the marriage, demand Liliane's return."
"On what grounds?" Campbell's voice was sharp. "That we dinnae like who won the auction? That's nae how this works."
"On the grounds that he forced the match! That he had no business being there in the first place!"
Campbell set down his glass with deliberate care. "If we challenge him now, we look like poor losers. Worse, we look weak. Unable tae control our own proceedin’s."
"So we dae naethin’?" Roderick's voice rose again. "We let him mock us, steal me daughter, destroy me alliance with a laird within the Pact, and we just... accept it?"
"I didnae say we dae naethin’. I said we cannae challenge him openly." Campbell's eyes glinted with calculation. "There are other ways tae handle this."
"Such as?"
"Patience. Strategy. Waitin’ fer MacDonald tae make a mistake we can exploit."
"That could take months!" Roderick slammed his fist on the table. "Meanwhile, every laird in the Pact looks at me and sees failure. They see a man who couldnae even manage a simple transaction. How long before they start questionin’ whether I'm worth the alliance at all?"
"That depends entirely on how ye handle this situation." Campbell's voice was cold. "If ye rage and storm and demand immediate action, ye'll confirm every doubt they have. But if ye show restraint, cunnin’, political acumen... ye might salvage this yet."
Roderick forced himself to breathe slowly, to think past the fury clouding his judgment. "First, we send MacDonald a formal letter. Polite, diplomatic, requestin’ the return of yer daughter on the grounds that the marriage was made under irregular circumstances."
"He'll refuse." Campbell leaned forward.
"Of course he will. But that's nae the point. The point is establishin’ a paper trail. Evidence that ye tried tae resolve this peacefully, that MacDonald is the aggressor, nae us."
"And when he refuses?"
"Then we have grounds tae escalate. Carefully, subtly, but escalate nonetheless."
Roderick paused. "So what dae ye think about the other clans? Will they support me?"
"Some will. Those who see MacDonald's defiance as a threat tae the Pact's stability." Campbell's expression was calculating. "Others will wait tae see which way the wind blows. That's why yer response must be measured. Show them ye're a man who thinks before he acts."
"I am thinkin’. I'm thinkin’ MacDonald humiliated me in front of every clan that matters."
"And now ye'll show them that humiliation daesnae break ye. That ye're stronger than one setback." Campbell's voice hardened. "Unless ye're nae. Unless ye'd prefer tae wallow in self-pity while yer standing crumbles."
