The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 656: Negotiations

The corridor to the negotiation room was long and winding, delving deep into the heart of the spire. There were no windows to let the starlight in, nothing to soothe the agitated swish of my tail.

"You don’t need to be so nervous. As intimidating as it seems, negotiations are just talking," Elise said.

"That’s what worries me," I muttered.

She looked meaningfully at my tail. "It’s okay if you’re anxious, but try not to show it. The church might try to misconstrue it for guilt."

"R-right. I’ll try."

Several guards shored up the way behind us, doing their best to seem indifferent to our conversation. But whenever they thought I wasn’t looking, they snuck curious looks at me, especially as I twisted my tail in my hands. My cheeks warmed. After that, I kept my eyes on the ground.

"This way, my Lady," a sixth-level soldier said, opening a door in the side of the passage.

Elise offered him a small smile. "Thank you."

She took a deep breath and then ducked inside. I looked around once more, watching as the guards took position around the corridor. Squeezing my tail for good measure, I gave it a stern look and let it slip out of my hands. It started twitching before I even crossed the threshold.

The air in the negotiation room was thick with tension. Hostility oozed from every human in the room, focused first on Elise, yet shifting immediately to me. I kept my eyes on the ground, following the hem of Elise’s skirt as it swished around her ankles to a seat at a large table carved of polished obsidian and gilded with gold. Only then did I look up, focusing on the most powerful souls in the room.

The first was a ninth-level mage leaning against the wall, apart from everything, like he intended to fade into the background. He looked ordinary and unassuming, out of place compared to the richly dressed diplomats of church and empire. He was older looking, perhaps fifty, with a gnarled wooden wand hanging from his belt. He wore a shirt in the local fashion, a loose blue garment with long, lace-up sleeves. His aura was restrained, but his eyes flashed as they met mine, and he gave me a small frown.

A dozen sixth and seventh-level guards were positioned around the room, hands resting on their swords. Two of them were mages with souls brimming with mana, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice.

I shifted my attention to the less immediate threats, though no less ominous. The church’s diplomat was a young woman with a hook-shaped nose, delicate eyebrows, and long blonde hair. She wore a permanent sneer, her gaze heavy with disdain.

And beside her...Father Ithris?

My heart accelerated painfully quickly, setting my tail coiling around the chair leg. He met my gaze and my chest tightened, every breath painful. He looked exactly how I remembered him, exactly how he appeared in my nightmares. Tall, middle-aged, wearing white robes with a golden sun emblazoned across the chest.

"Hello, Xiviyah. It’s been a while," he said with a perfectly neutral tone.

My throat was too dry to speak; all that came out was a pathetic croak. I gripped my skirt tightly, trying to look anywhere but at the father. But, inevitably, my gaze was drawn back to him. To the man who had personally walked me around like a dog, flaunting his dominion to the other clergy and ensuring I knew my place.

The father’s lip twitched in a condescending smile. "As timid as ever, I see. Even if you’ve become a monster, some things never change."

"Please, Father," the young woman said, resting her hand on the back of his. "No matter how true your words, we must come to the table with dignity and respect."

She watched the empire’s diplomats out of the corner of her eye, letting a small smile show when they nodded in agreement. I tightened my grip on my skirt, forcing myself to take long, deep breaths. I hadn’t expected seeing him to hurt so much, but it didn’t change anything.

After calming a bit, I looked at the empire’s people. There were many attendants and orderlies with writing materials, presumably to take notes, but one man headed them all. He was elderly but had a sixth-level soul. His eyes were sharp and cunning, darting around, not missing a single thing. Even though my tail was beneath the table, I brought it into my lap, afraid he might somehow see it anyway.

He was the first to speak. "Let us begin this session of negotiations for the surrender of the Blacksand Empire." He said it with a bitter tone, and directed the next part toward me. "For those new in attendance, I am Diplomat Barther, a Grand Duke of the Blacksand Empire. This is Undill, head of the church’s embassy in Blacksand, joined by Father Ithris. And Elise, a voice representing the demons."

Just Elise. Not Lady Elise or Princess Elise. I looked at her, expecting a frown, but her hands clasped in her lap, staring at them.

"Now that that’s over, I believe we left off discussing the shards," Undill, the young woman, said. "I’m afraid your requests for seizure were most undiplomatic and a nonstarter for both us and the Empire."

Elise took a deep breath, raising her head to meet their gaze. "So what?" she asked.

Her question was soft, forcing everyone to lean toward her. Undill tilted her head, letting a frown deepen her sneer.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Do you know why we are here?" Elise asked.

The church’s diplomat shrugged. "To negotiate, obviously. I’m a little insulted that they sent someone as inexperienced and dishonorable as you to the table. They could have at least taken us seriously and had their apostle come himself. It’s an insult to the great history of this empire!"

I watched the empire’s reaction, how they simmered and glared at me. Only Barther, his face a professional mask, remained calm. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

My tail lashed at her words. Not only for Elise, but Luke. If he had come himself, there was no way he would endure that kind of insult. It was nothing but wisdom on his part that he passed it up to one with a more suitable set of skills and nature for peace.

Elise kept her composure, saying, "Interesting choice of words, given your censure of the Father. And you’re wrong, regardless. We are not negotiating a treaty or a trade deal but a surrender. And our goal is not to please the church or the empire but the demons. It’s their mercy I’m offering."

Father Ithris snorted. "Ridiculous. No matter how this affair started, the proud and noble Blacksand Empire would never bend the knee to the forces of darkness, especially not when they aren’t even at a military disadvantage."

Barther’s eyes flicked to the Father, though, letting slip a small, disapproving frown.

Elise continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted. "The truth is, I am only here as a gesture of goodwill. The demons would rather burn this empire to the ground than see it stand behind them, even with a peace treaty. It might not be now, but the demons are endless. No matter how many you kill, the floodgates are already open. More will come, and in time, this entire continent will have nothing but bones and ashes."

"There are always sacrifices in war," Undill said. "It’s unfortunate things have come to this, but you cannot ask us to surrender our humanity and let the demons do as they please."

"Us? You speak as if you live here, like you’ll be the one suffering. But that’s intentional, isn’t it?" Elise asked.

Undill flinched but quickly regained her bearing. "You’re trying to divide us, but it won’t work. Enusia will live on to honor those brave souls who give their lives for their world. They will never be forgotten."

"So that’s your plan? This is what the great mercy and blessings of your gods’ promises look like?" Elise asked. She turned to the empire, meeting Barther’s gaze. "You are more than sacrifices for the ’greater good’ of Enusia. I am here because I want them to live. If I leave, and this surrender is annulled, all of them are going to die. The church is willing to make that sacrifice. They would condemn you to the annals of history, never more to rise, to buy a few more months to ready their forces. Enusia would have the chance to live on, but at what cost?"

"You speak as if the demons would honor such a surrender," Undill said. "How could they believe such a thing after the atrocities the demons have already committed against Corzinth?"

Corzinth? The name seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Was it the name of a person?

Barther leaned forward. "Elise, I cannot deny your words, but it is this point that troubles our relationship. The city of Corzinth was home to some fifty thousand people. In all our efforts, we’ve managed to save close to five thousand, half of which was saved by Lord Evlon and his inquisitors. Given the tremendous loss of life, there is little you can do to convince us to have faith in the demons. If we must die, we would rather go fighting into the night than wait for the demons to turn on us."

The various members of the diplomatic team nodded in agreement. I could read the resolve in their eyes. It wasn’t just words. Given the choice between death and betrayal, they would take death every time. The truth was, after being betrayed myself, I could understand it. Dying hurt once, then was over. But betrayal? That was a pain that stung forever, especially when you trusted them. Like how they trusted the church.