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The demoralized, dispirited forces of Fructera routed to the town square of Vinolia.
Their battle had lasted eight Bulb-forsaken hours, whereon the formality of fighting formations devolved into a grueling melee in the mud as the earth was made swollen from the heavy torrent of rainwater. 'Twas a savage scenery: carrot cavalry gored by prickly pear pikes, a giant of a plantain mashing dozens of potatoes with a warhammer, a cucumber-man hacked and sliced into pieces by avocado axes, a banana with their bare yellow hands choking the life out of a legume till the peas shot out. The skies wept, soldiers wept, onions wept. Vegetable clashed with fruit. Many brave lemons and tangerines and turnips and garlics drowned in the shallow standing water. Most worrying of all amidst the havoc was the disappearance of Count Jacques Tomate into the fog of war. With or without their claimant king, the half-destroyed Fructeran host chose to fly regardless, and the Vegetanians ruefully declared themselves victorious after that bloodbath of an afternoon.
Vinolia was part of Gustavo Uvano's demesne as Lord of the Vineyard and Steward of the city Uvano. This very land was christened and sanctified by the founder of his house and his namesake, Gustavus Uvano. Thus it had hurt Gustavo severely to see his own home bleed. The Fructerans were utterly in disarray as morale problems and logistics issues mounted, with no sign of their lauded count tomato to guide them a way out, presumedly slain by vegetable hands. The Lords Citron and du Peche were letting their petty rivalry get the best of them, escalating from the public bandying of insults to the challenging of a duel to the death, agreeing to commence it at first light. Viscount Strongpit apparently abandoned his own men in the dead of night to scurry off to Comida, never to return. And Lord Applebottom went mad with grief over the loss of his firstborn son and heir. Gustavo Uvano took the reins, first by scolding and tempering the rage of Lord Citron and Lord du Peche over dinner. He nursed the many wounded who Viscount Strongpit abandoned, sending his personal physicians to look after the men, amputating rotten limbs of fruit overcome by mold, using up the last of his healing potion stock. Lastly, Gustavo comforted the grieving Applebottom by offering a marriage pact in the offing between their two houses. The conditions of the Fructeran camp had overall improved, especially considering the shape it was previously in. To decide their army's next move, Gustavo Uvano invited all the lords into his manor to make up an informal war council.
The grape-lord performed his nightly ablutions, washed his visage in the mirror just before the meeting could get started, cleaned himself of the grime and pulp the war soaked him in. He draped himself in his grape-purple shirt and reddish doublet and, halfway exiting through the door, he came upon one of his himrod men-at-arms who looked as if he saw an apparition.
"My lord…" said the himrod grape.
"What's wrong?" asked Gustavo Uvano, though a part of him felt like he knew what this was about. "Have you found his body? Have you found Jacques Tomate dead?"
"No, my lord … He is alive! The count just barged in through the doors. He's in the inner courtyard right now, awaiting you."
The war council session was cancelled, and the lords of Fructera congregated within the indoor garden of the manor. As Gustavo Uvano appeared from the courtyard balcony above, his eyes did not deceive. It was him, though his goatee had been cut short and his long-brimmed purple hat had been peppered with holes, its purple and green frond now lost. But it was still him.
He seemed to quite enjoy the shock stirred by his miraculous revival. "Take heart, my lords, for I, Jacques Tomate, your future king yet lives!"
Gustavo did not miss the self-aggrandizing, he realized as he walked down the steps. The tomato-man loved hearing the sound of his own name from his own lips.
"Ah, my lord of grape!" cried Jacques Tomate.
"My count of tomato," acknowledged Gustavo Uvano. "Has the camp been informed of your seeming resurrection?"
He gulped "No, no, we'll hold off such announcements till tomorrow morning. It shall do well to coincide it with the rising of the Bulb. For the men, it will appear as if the very light of our deity pulled me away from death's door!"
"How did you even survive?"
"Hid under the mountains of dead bodies, slipping away when the opportunity presented itself."
"I see."
"While I am indeed most grateful, Uvano, for your efforts overseeing Fructeran forces in my absence, I shall be taking charge once more. In a few days, we're going to muster strength and rally reinforcements from—"
"No."
The courtyard stilled.
Jacques Tomate only chuckled. "Fucking excusez-moi?"
"In regards to the war effort, no decision is to be made, unless it's unanimous from our consortium."
"Unanimous," echoed the tomato-man. He leaned his elbows against a garden table, taking a bite of an inanimate grape he found from a fruit bowl. "You know what I've always hated about Fructera's feudal system? That. The bureaucratic nature of our aristocracy. A poisonous inefficiency. Delay creeping in as we waste hours trifling over every angle. This is war for Bulb's sake! Unanimous has no place here. There will be no discourse. Speed defines warfare. Do not be so naive as to believe we can decide everything by committee."
"We can decide one thing by committee: how we're going to withdraw."
Jacques Tomate snapped. "There will be no retreat! So long as I draw breath, this Ravening War is not over! The lords of Fructera accepted me as their liege and gave me their obeisance."
"That was then," argued Gustavo Uvano. "Circumstances have changed. You know why they name it the Ravening War? It's because this conflict has devoured the breadth of the continent! Hundreds of thousands of lives lost, many fruits numbered among them. A conflict you started."
"Avoid pointing your finger, my lord of grape. Your foreboding foreknowledge betrays a certain hypocrisy. May I remind you that all of us have partaken in the bloodshed? My hands are no more innocent than yours. Yes, this war I've started, but this war I intend to see through till the end. We will march our army again, replenishing our—"
"No."
Sensing incoming violence, the spectating aristocrats preemptively backed off.
"Uvano," saying it with disdain, "your repeated negatory responses expose me, Jacques Tomate, to a great deal of embarrassment and arouses judgement from your lordly peers. I demand your recanting and apologizing, lest you declare yourself as my foil, thereby desecrating the sacrosanct allegiance between liege and vassal."
"I merely speak my opinion, my count of tomato. The Fructeran army cannot march while fatigued and famished. If I'm a foil, so be it."
"Less of an apology, and more of an apologia. Know your place, steward."
"How's this: your failure has cost our country, and has cost innumerable fruit casualties. Fructera will suffer you no more. You can back down by your own volition, and we may go through this smoothly, without letting pulp nor juice."
"Is it your intention to make me cackle? Sacre Bulb." The tomato-man merely shook his head and scoffed, turning his back.
Gustavo Uvano picked up an inanimate tomato from his garden and hurled it at him with splattering velocity.
The count of tomato gasped, "You dare throw a fucking tomato at a tomato-man?"
The lord of grape boomed, "Fructera will suffer you no more, I say! You're to be removed, Jacques Tomate, by word or by sword."
Jacques Tomate's lip quivered with rage as he put on his leather gloves and drew his sabre. Gustavo Uvano answered with a sabre of his own, ready to end it now and here. The round tomato-man made the first attack. The power of his thrust almost ended the fight as soon as it began, making Uvano lose his footing whilst countering, but the slender grape-lord rolled over and recovered. Around the garden they fought. Whatever was planted there was slashed to bits as collateral. Thrusts were met with parries were met with ripostes were met with parries of their own. It was a deadly show of bladework and footwork. A furious Jacques Tomate used his might to push over a table, directing it towards the grape-lord. Uvano leapt and dodged, ending up kneeling atop table itself as Jacques Tomate lunged forward. Uvano met his charge with a fatal rejoinder, sticking his sabre between the count's eyes. He retained consciousness for but a moment, before dropping on the ground with a hard thud.
When the duel ended, the Fructeran lords huddled around the lifeless carcass of the tomato-man once known as Jacques Tomate.
It was quiet for a good deal of time, until Gustavo Uvano spoke, "If the men hear of this, morale will be more broken than it already is. Do not tell the truth of it. Tell them Jacques Tomate, usurper apparent, was slain by our enemies, the Vegetanians."