17 Peace Treaty I

A bright ray of light streamed through the expansive opening of the Japanese-style garden, a serene world of small canals, bonsai trees, and stone ornaments. Near its centre stood a wooden gazebo, a quiet island in a heavenly ecosystem.

The canal water sparkled with pristine clarity, its bed lined with white gravel where lively, multicoloured carp swam in graceful patterns. In the distance, the cheerful chirping of birds wove a tapestry of peace, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in another corner of the world.

The garden was encircled by traditional architecture, its adjoining hall defined by intricately crafted shoji screens and polished ledges.

The open-plan design offered an unobstructed panorama, allowing the garden's full beauty to be appreciated.

At the centre of the hall, a grand arrangement of rectangular tables formed a massive square, reminiscent of a high-stakes conference room. Velvet-finished chairs were positioned neatly around its perimeter. The table itself was exquisitely adorned with vibrant floral arrangements and sophisticated humidifiers that exuded an air of grace and aristocracy.

A subtle, noble aroma spread through the space, enhancing the regal atmosphere.

To the left, at the head of the table, sat Nohrell Voss Fenrith, the ethereal Wildren empress of the Dunkelheit Empire.

She sipped delicately from her cup of hot matcha, her posture poised and elegant, her silver fox tail tucked neatly beneath her chair.

Her white dress, embellished with intricate gold embroidery, radiated refinement. A shimmering blue crystal embedded in her chest, a rare arcanite harnesser, further emphasised her otherworldly allure.

Behind her, the flag of the Dunkelheit Empire, bearing its gear and sword symbol, was a prominent reminder of the tension in the room.

To the right, the head seat remained empty, accompanied by the flag of the Osten Empire. Its emblem of a staff and orbs symbolised the nation's ancient and enduring legacy of arcane magic.

Seated at the central position was the mediator of the peace treaty conference, Ryusei Sol Solara. A tall, slender man in his mid-fifties, he sat with an outward calm, though the fidgeting of his gloved hands beneath the table betrayed his nerves.

Nohrell's sharp senses did not miss his unease. As his gaze briefly met hers, she winked, her teasing nature ever-present.

Ryusei's sleek white hair was neatly combed back, and his bottom-framed glasses added a polished touch to his composed appearance. His dark navy suit, accented with silver, featured padded shoulders that lent him a more imposing figure.

Behind him, the golden flag of Solis Aeternum, emblazoned with a radiant sun, stood proudly on display.

Beside him sat his daughter, Aurelia Sol Solara. At just sixteen, her round face hinted at her youth, yet her posture and demeanour reflected the grace of a well-groomed princess. Her vivid red hair and eyes, fiery and expressive as dragon flames, made her presence impossible to ignore.

Standing behind Aurelia was her steadfast guardian and childhood friend, Friederich Eir Regis. His composed stance, hands folded neatly behind his back, exuded the quiet assurance of a steady rock.

He wore a black suit accented with gold trim, the silver crest of House Regis displayed proudly on his chest. A golden-white katana sheath was fastened at his side — notably, without its blade.

Aurelia leaned close to her guardian, a playful glint in her eyes as she covered her lips with her hand.

"Fried! Don't you fall for the empress, alright?" she whispered, her mischievous tone evoking no visible reaction from the ever-impassive Friederich.

He didn't respond, but his glare shifted to meet her teasing gaze, his expression unwavering. After a moment, however, a faint pink hue began to dust his cheeks.

"Fufufu!" Aurelia chuckled softly, delighted by his innocent reaction.

"Ahem!" Her father cleared his throat, a subtle prompt for Aurelia to cease her teasing. She straightened her posture and directed her attention forward, though a mischievous glint still lingered in her eyes.

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"Well, well, well… Look who decided to finally show up." Nohrell's ethereal voice resounded through the hall, a rich, echoing tone akin to a grand pipe organ, as another party made their entrance.

Aurora Vere Borealis, the Astral Empress of the Osten Empire, entered with a clipped, purposeful stride. Her movements were an intricate balance of urgency and dignity.

Despite her composure, the signs of exhaustion were etched into her pale, divine features — an inevitable toll from the recent invasion of Germund.

Countless councils, emergency measures, and inquiries with high lords and kings had left their mark.

An elf, Aurora bore her heritage proudly, her pointed ears a testament to her lineage. Her eyes and hair shimmered a bright silver under the sunlight, an otherworldly brilliance that only heightened her presence.

She was clad in obsidian armour with gold accents, resembling a noble knight of old. Black feathers adorned her shoulder plates, and her dark cloak, crafted from griffin wings, a trophy from her victory over the legendary beast two centuries prior.

The cloak fluttered ominously as she moved.

Ignoring Nohrell's feeble provocation, Aurora settled into her designated seat, situated a full twenty metres from her adversary.

A butler meticulously adjusted her chair; she offered him a slow blink of gratitude, a rare display of humility from one of her immense power.

The butler nodded swiftly and disappeared into the background.

Without waiting for pleasantries, Aurora's voice cut through the room with stern authority.

"Speak, fox."

The words carried the weight of a compelling spell, though none was cast. Her gaze locked onto Nohrell's with unyielding intensity, brimming with loathing for the woman she held responsible for the lives of over seventy million of her citizens, and counting.

"Oh, you don't have to command me, Aurora." Nohrell traced the rim of her teacup with a silver-tipped nail, her eyes flicking up to meet Aurora's fiery glare with playful disdain. "Since you refuse to address me properly, I see no reason to extend you the courtesy."

"Insolent!" Aurora roared, her voice reverberating with unrestrained fury. "Utter another pestilent word, and I'll cut you down myself!"

Nohrell's lips parted in a sly smile, her hands lifting in a gesture of mock surrender. "Such a temper. Don't worry, Aurora, I wouldn't dare spoil your theatrics."

Sensing the thickening tension, Ryusei cleared his throat, stepping in to regain control of the room.

"Presenting the Astral Empress of Dunkelheit, Nohrell Voss Fenrith, the Crescent Scythe of Death and the Moonlit Night!" He gestured towards Nohrell with a gloved hand before turning to Aurora. "And presenting the Astral Empress of Osten, Aurora Vere Borealis, the Golden Age of Osten and Conqueror of Seven Continents!"

"Was," Nohrell interjected sharply.

She rose abruptly to her feet, a sudden movement that drew puzzled glances from around the room, before settling back into her seat with an exaggerated flourish, smoothing her fluffy tail with mock indifference.

Ryusei hesitated, clearing his throat once more. "And the Ventiff's Demise."

"And myself, Ryusei Sol Solara, ruler of this mystical land; Aurelia Sol Solara, my princess; and her prime guardian, Friederich Eir Regis. We humbly welcome you, esteemed guests of the highest honour!" Ryusei and his people bowed their heads deeply in respect.

Aurora suppressed her irritation. While, Nohrell rolled her eyes, idly toying with her tail.

Ryusei swept his gaze across the grand hall. "Today marks a pivotal moment in history," he continued, "a great opportunity for peace and prosperity between these two great empires. As leaders, we are bound to serve our people, to ensure their wellbeing, and to build a sustainable future for generations to come."

His speech concluded, but a loud, humourless laugh erupted from Nohrell.

"Oh, I absolutely adore your speech! Truly, I could not agree more." Her tone dripped with amusement as her gold-and-blue eyes slid sideways to Aurora. "Unlike certain rulers, who cling to their barbaric traditions. Honestly, your empire's endorsement of slavery disgusts me to the core!"

Aurora's eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice controlled. "I do not condone slavery, Fox. However, your citizens live under the illusion of freedom while enduring far worse conditions. At least our slaves are housed, fed, and cared for, their basic needs met without discrimination. Can your so-called 'free people' say the same?"

Leaning forward slightly, her tone grew pointed. "What happens when one of your citizens runs out of credit, Nohrell?"

A guttural growl escaped Nohrell as her teeth clenched. The two empresses locked eyes, the hostility in the room palpable.

"They're left to rot in the streets," Aurora continued sharply, unyielding. "Not even their own neighbours would spare them a glance. I would loathe being born under your rule."

"Such grand words, coming from you, Aurora," Nohrell shot back, her grin sly and feral. "Though, remind me, were your so-called 'happy citizens' not massacred just days ago?"

Aurora's expression stiffened, but she held her composure. "Once again, I do not condone the actions of my Zodiac Arcmages."

"Oh?" Nohrell tilted her head. "And what do you take responsibility for? You call yourself the Astral Empress of Osten, yet it seems that title is just empty words, a howl carried by the wind."

The barbs struck home, but Aurora's voice was cutting as she countered. "You're one to talk. Who was it that sought war? Who ordered the genocide of my people in a hunger for power?"

Her gaze drifted momentarily toward the garden. The vibrant greenery swayed gently in the breeze, a fleeting solace amidst the heated exchange.

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