Every single time, right before sitting down at the negotiation table, my heart pounded like mad. No matter how often I picked fights with professors or mouthed off to princes and princesses, how could I not be nervous? Back then, they had nothing to lose by arguing with me, but the people sitting across this table had everything to lose if they were defeated. Thus, it was only natural for the pressure and anxiety to rise in direct proportion.
Stepping into the room, I spotted some unfamiliar faces along with several I knew. Yet, what surprised me far more was their seating arrangement.
Grand Duke Closer, whom I—and likely everyone else—had assumed would occupy the First Seat, was sitting in the Second Seat. Count Roller was in the Third Seat, and an unfamiliar man occupied the Fourth Seat. Beside him sat another man, glaring daggers at me as if I were his bitterest enemy, making me thoroughly uncomfortable.
In the First Seat where Grand Duke Closer should have been, sat a man who, comically enough, looked as though he had ‘I am a prince’ written in bold across his face.
What is this?
Of course, the First Seat did not necessarily bear the heaviest operational burden, but by custom, it was reserved for the delegation’s leader—typically their most seasoned diplomat or the figure at the very heart of the mission.
Evidently, I was not the only one caught off guard; the colleagues following behind me seemed just as taken aback. Naturally, having weathered countless storms, Celine was the only one who failed to keep her poker face.
Still, I decided to cut her some slack. Celine simply lacked experience. Even I had trembled like a leaf when I attended my very first negotiation behind my senior.
“Long time no see, Lady Dirnant.”
“It has been a while, Your Highness Grand Duke Closer. I see you’re still speaking informally to me. Mind using proper honorifics?”
“Ahem.”
In terms of pure rank, Grand Duke Closer was indeed above me, but operating on the premise that I had no reason to cower before him, I beamed in response. Having already driven his blood pressure through the roof two years ago during the ceasefire talks with a bright smile, I flashed him the very same grin now, turning his face red.
Unlike Winchester, Sierra was a country that held women in endless contempt. On top of that, ever since Princess Victoria’s suicide some one hundred and seventy years ago, Winchester viewed Sierra as nothing more or less than barbarians.
The very first time Grand Duke Closer met me, he had clicked his tongue, questioning whether a woman belonged at the negotiation table. Thanks to that slight, I had managed to deliver everything I wanted to say with utter composure. I was the sort whose temper grew colder the angrier I became. Rumor had it that after that incident, tales of an insolent Winchester wench circulated widely through the Sierran royal court. Not that I cared in the slightest.
“Khm. This… is His Highness Prince Collins of Sierra, Lady Dirnant.”
The man sitting beside Grand Duke Closer was indeed a prince. I offered him a radiant smile.
“Your Highness.”
“An honor to meet you, Lady Dirnant. You are just as lovely as the rumors say.”
“My, thank you. Though I assure you, my brain is far more lovely.”
When I replied with a serene smile, Grand Duke Closer and Count Roller glared at me as though looking at a madwoman. In response, I gave them an innocent, angelic beam. How does it feel to be unable to spit on a smiling face? By contrast, Senior Pello, who was sitting next to me, chuckled under his breath the entire time as if it were the funniest show on earth.
Prince Collins, seated directly across from me, showed little outward reaction, but the fact that he wore a persistent smile matching my own frankly made me uneasy. I could tell what the Grand Duke and the Count were thinking, but I couldn't read him. Maintaining my smile, I addressed the handsome prince.
“Shall we hear Sierra’s opening position, then?”
At a negotiation table concluding a war, the victor always dictates the proceedings. As if he had anticipated this, Prince Collins spoke.
“In accordance with the war’s outcome, we will cede Beliche to Winchester.”
Silence fell over our side. This was far worse than we thought. Senior Pello glanced at me with a smirk. Senior Trichel and Korkel did the same. Returning their smiles, I looked at Celine. Celine, show them what you’ve worked so hard on.
Reading my gaze, Celine broke into a bright smile. As if one woman weren’t enough, having two women at the table seemed to thoroughly irritate them… but sorry, we operate strictly on merit. Man or woman, competence is all that matters. I muttered the thought to myself, and soon, Celine’s clear, resonant voice filled the chamber.
“As we begin negotiations regarding the outcome of the war between Winchester and Sierra, we present the following demands to Sierra, carrying out the will of Winchester’s noble sovereign, His Majesty King Edward II, as well as the royal house, the nobility, and all our people.”
Listening quietly to Celine’s voice, we savored the rapidly shifting expressions across the table. Grand Duke Closer’s sallow face turned pale, then dark, resembling a cursed childhood toy—a Joker doll.
The terms Celine recited in a composed, steady tone were as follows:
“First, Beliche will be ceded to Winchester.”
“Second, Sierra will disarm for nine months out of the year, excluding winter.”
“Third, Winchester forces will be garrisoned along Sierra’s borders for one year.”
“Fourth, the Alexandrite Mine in northern Sierra will be ceded to Winchester.”
“Fifth, the trade rights of convenience concluded with Ohla will be transferred to Winchester.”
“Sixth, maritime trade control rights will be transferred to Winchester.”
“Seventh, the exclusive trade monopoly clause under Queen Anne will be transferred to Winchester.”
“Eighth…”
“Ninth, reparations of two million gold to compensate Winchester for war damages. In the event of insufficient state funds, monthly installments of ten thousand gold will be permitted at an interest rate of ten percent.”
“…That is all.”
“This is outright plunder—”
“Oh, by the way, please note that there is no option to fulfill the later clauses while ignoring the earlier ones.”
“This is plunder! Highway robbery!”
“It is not, Grand Duke Closer. And please, take your seat.”
Speaking calmly to the Grand Duke as he slammed the table in outrage, I set down my teacup without taking a sip. The tea rippled with a pleasant clinking sound.
The Grand Duke huffed and puffed, his entire body signaling how utterly furious he was. For someone who had long favored strongman, coercive diplomacy, this was likely hard to swallow.
Yet they were the ones on the losing side now. Watching them placidly, I smiled.
“What are your thoughts on our demands?”
“I trust you do not expect us to grant every single one.”
“I certainly wish to, but unfortunately, Winchester lost six long years. Is it really too much to ask for compensation to comfort those who lost parents, spouses, and children during that time? It is customary for the victor of a war to demand a fitting price. Just as Sierra once did.”
As I pushed the treaty draft forward with a smile, the prince glanced at it before staring intently at me. The Sierran prince’s vivid blue eyes locked onto mine. Gazing into those cloudy, overcast eyes, I beamed back.
The man who had been smiling just moments ago was now staring at me with a completely blank expression. Yes, of course it was shocking. Even for someone as brazen as myself, drafting this list had taken much deliberation—debating whether to include this much or hold back.
Even so, I had put it all in. That came partly from the confidence of our intelligence, and partly from the assurance of our victory.
“In fact, we have heard quite a few interesting reports lately. Particularly regarding that trade of convenience signed with Ohla.”
When Senior Pello spoke up, the prince’s brow furrowed sharply. He knew full well what Pello was getting at. Senior Pello smiled gently at his reaction.
“There is plenty more where that came from. So, I trust our position is clear. We only hope you will consult His Majesty the King of Sierra and bring good news the day after tomorrow.”
Our message was unmistakable.
We hold your weakness. If you do not want another blow while you're already down, do as we say.
Seeming to grasp the unspoken warning, the prince of Sierra closed his eyes. After a brief pause, he opened them and spoke with a stiffened face.
“For now, I will confer with His Majesty the King.”
“Very well. We hope to see Your Highness’s signature on the treaty we have presented.”
I offered a sweet reply to his satisfying concession.
And with that, the first round of negotiations came to a close.
