From the day after our arrival at Sorel Castle, we spent every single day in meetings. Time flew as we memorized the final list once more, committed the draft treaties to memory, and assembled reference materials. We had gone over the checklist dozens of times already.
Meanwhile, Duke Prodiad simply shadowed me as my escort, or stood outside the room whenever we discussed confidential matters. I hadn’t shared much of any conversation with him.
“Beliche, disarmament, garrisoning rights, and the mines. That completes the first list. The second consists of ice-trade rights and maritime trade controls. The third is two million gold in reparations, Kaila Island, and finally, securing the Queen Anne exclusive trade clause. That’s the whole of it.”
“Whoa, we’re kind of ruthless, aren’t we?”
Once Celine finished reciting the list, murmurs of admiration erupted around the room. I rolled my eyes at them, seeing how amazed they were by terms they had helped draft themselves. Naturally, the final call had been mine—under His Majesty’s approval, of course. And the two million gold in reparations alongside the Queen Anne exclusive trade clause were additions I had inserted under my own diplomatic discretion, heavily influenced though they were by something Mother had told me.
“Aren’t we stripping them a bit too bare? At this rate, Sierra’s going to turn into a Winchester colony.”
“Not at all.”
Trichel, my senior colleague who would take the third seat during the negotiations, chimed in cautiously.
Five people were to sit at the primary negotiation table. I was to take the first seat; Senior Pello, who was much my senior in rank, the second; Senior Trichel the third; my contemporary Korkel the fourth; and Celine the fifth.
Unlike Pello and Korkel, who were far slyer than their appearances suggested, Senior Trichel seemed somewhat plagued by guilt, as if we were bleeding a pauper dry. As if reading his discomfort, Celine sorted her papers and spoke up.
“What else can we do? It’s war. Personal feelings aside, I’d take even more if I could. Remember what Sierra did to us a hundred and seventy years ago? Repaying them double wouldn’t even settle the score.”
“Not to mention how they dared take a princess of Winchester as their king’s twelfth wife, while a dancer of common birth sat as queen. Demanding the surrender of Winchester’s queen just to slash our reparations, stealing our crown, bleeding us for indemnities…”
Pello took a deep drag from his cigarette and added his piece. Trichel seemed to understand the sentiment, lifting his pen without another word, even if he still looked slightly uneasy.
“Come now, regardless, this is the will of His Majesty the King.”
“All for His Majesty’s will.”
When Pello offered the customary sign-off, Celine giggled. Korkel shrugged his shoulders.
“Let’s get some sleep. The war begins tomorrow.”
With that, we all rose from our seats. Being closest to the exit, I opened the door first and spotted Duke Prodiad standing guard beside it. He was still standing ramrod straight. A knight truly was a knight; our meeting had dragged on for several hours, yet his posture hadn’t wavered in the slightest.
I blinked a couple of times before stepping forward. Naturally falling into step behind me, he spoke.
“Rest early tonight. From tomorrow… it will be grueling.”
“Yes. Thank you for your hard work these past few days, Your Grace. Though I’m sure you’ve had it much harder before this.”
“It was an honor to fight for the glory of Winchester.”
“By the way, it seems Sorel Castle was never attacked, was it?”
“Indeed. Sorel Castle is a historic site, making it an exempt target under the conventions of war.”
Having spent nearly three days around him, I had concluded that while he lacked passion, he wasn’t a difficult man to deal with. Celine still insisted he terrified her, but I decided he wasn’t nearly as frightening as she thought.
“Well then, good night—”
Stepping into my room, I offered him a polite nod before silence settled in. I sat at my desk and picked up my pen.
The following day.
Sorel Castle was in absolute chaos with guests arriving and those already lodged within. Waving off the castle’s few maidservants who offered to help, I powdered my face with my own hands. Unless it was my personal maid, I tended to be quite particular, and the maids backed away as if sensing it.
Slipping into a crisp white shirt, tying a women’s cravat around my neck, and donning a tailored navy suit, I shoved my feet into my dress shoes and tidied my hair. Once I painted my lips a vivid red and pulled my hair back into a sleek ponytail, I smiled with satisfaction at the sight of a diplomat who clearly meant business.
Between the dress shoes I had haggled over at the boutique for this negotiation, the diamond lapel pin sparkling on my navy fabric, the sapphire ring fitted over my white gloves, and the coat draped over the suit, I carried the dapper air of a gentleman. Taking one last look at my reflection, I stepped out into the hallway.
“Oh, every time she dresses like that, she looks like a whole different person, don’t you think?”
At Pello’s remark, the rest of the party looked back toward me. Everyone looked remarkably sharp for a change, so I walked over to the desk where they were gathered and spoke up.
“You all look somewhat presentable for once.”
“Are you really the same girl? The one who was fluttering her fan and laughing at that party? Be honest, you have a twin, don’t you?”
“Lady Scarlett, you finally look like you did back at the academy.”
“Hey, who says? She was worse back then. She looked ready to eat people alive.”
Leave it to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where careers are made by tearing people apart with words. Not a single one of them was willing to lose a verbal spar. Letting out an amused chuckle, I took a seat.
“The Sierra delegates are already waiting in the next room.”
“They’re early, aren’t they?”
“The losers always have to grovel.”
I smiled at Korkel’s words. Hadn’t I said the exact same thing during history class at the academy seven years ago?
Back then, we had been discussing the war between Sierra and Winchester from a hundred and seventy years prior, debating the significance of the conflict. Most students had been seething with indignation over Sierra’s conduct, and even the professor did nothing to rein in their extreme outrage.
Amidst all that, I had poured fuel onto their burning anger.
“Isn’t it a rule of history that the defeated have no say?”
“What do you mean by that, Dirnant?”
“We lost. It would be nice if they showed consideration, but does their failure to do so give us any right to censure them? The weak are meant to be preyed upon, aren’t they?”
“But that was an unjust war.”
“There is no such thing as a just war. People die in all of them.”
“Then are you saying their demands were reasonable?”
“Does that matter? In the end, we were defeated, and we were the losers. Unless they engaged in unreasonable slaughter or rape, we have to bear responsibility as the defeated party. The losers always have to grovel.”
“Sit down, Dirnant. Your view of history is atrocious.”
“Would you say the same thing if Winchester had won, Professor? Both sides engaged in war, so why is Sierra the only one condemned?”
“I said sit down, Dirnant! Just which country are you from?!”
“This has nothing to do with nationality!”
And so, that professor gave me the lowest grade in academy history. Fortunately, it was merely an elective, so it didn’t affect me much. Had it been one of my major courses, I would have marched straight into his office to have it out with him.
Of course, I knew my words had been utterly extreme. But I had simply wanted to land a blow on that professor who kept shouting, ‘We are unequivocally on the side of justice!’ As if anyone didn’t already know about justice and morality.
History has always been steeped in war. If you lose, you ought to accept it cleanly. As an educator, he should have explained the inevitability of conflict and instructed his students accordingly.
He should have said: wars will always break out, and our only duty is to uphold the rules of war and submit to the outcome regardless of victory or defeat; we must never forget history, and once we grow strong, we must refrain from bringing harm to other nations.
Naturally, I loathed war myself. Had this war been a series of one-sided massacres and rapes, death solely for the sake of death, I would have been the first to point an accusing finger at Sierra’s barbaric nature. But why should Sierra be vilified for engaging in an ordinary, fair war?
I suddenly wondered what that professor would say today. Would he claim Winchester was in the right? Or would he take the side of Sierra, the loser, just as he had done back then? I should visit the academy and ask him sometime.
How would he look at me now, demanding an even greater toll from the defeated Sierra than they had ever taken from us? Back then, spitting as he ranted,
he had cried, ‘Young people these days have no patriotism whatsoever!’ I was genuinely curious about what he would say when he saw the spoils of war I brought back on behalf of Winchester.
“Lady Scarlett, it’s time.”
“Right, let’s go.”
Celine’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I rose to my feet. Gathering the papers, I walked out of the room. The war was officially beginning—a war of a very different kind.
