The party that waited at the dock comprised a whole retinue of Haolan soldiers, perhaps near a hundred. The soldiers formed two lines leading to the street beyond the stone harbor. Warships were docked at the neighboring piers, dwarfing their own vessel.

“They have a whole fleet,” Captain Arnas muttered. “Wasn’t there the last time I was here.”

“How long ago was that?” Krystos asked.

The man spat over the railing. “Less than a year ago. Seems the war only made them busier bastards than ever. The queen was right to suggest a treaty. Ships in these numbers… no telling how far they could make it into Arcadia.”

“The legions drove them back,” Krystos said. “They’d do it again.”

The captain shrugged. “That was a small raiding party compared to this. Ghuang was one of the first coastal settlements to be hit by the Empire’s navy. Do you see any Arcadian colors here now?” Arnas turned to Krystos. “Whatever you do, see to it that you don’t mess this up for us all, boy. We’ll be here waiting, or we’ll all be dead.”

Krystos nodded. “I… will try. Thank you, Captain.”

One down the gangway, they were greeted by a Haolan official. He was a grizzled man, long mustache draped over his cropped beard. He wore a simple forest-green robe, dark boots that had been polished to a luster. He nodded to Krystos in his crimson raiment and the rest of them wearing ordinary black cloaks.

“Greetings, Envoy of Arcadia,” the man said in chopped Cadish. “I am Magister Yaokuin. I will take you to our king. Please. Follow.”

He strode past the lines of soldiers staring ahead. They wore armor of strange design, glimmering rectangular stone scales lashed together. The stone mail low around their thighs, like kilts. As for their weapons, they were wooden polearms topped with the same stone.

The soldiers marched alongside as they passed, an entourage that blocked them from view of the curious crowds who had gathered. Men and women wearing silk robes in a rainbow of color chattered in Haolo as they made their way into the city. The women held delicate pointed umbrellas to shelter their pale skin from the bright golden sun. Most, if not all of the men, had their dark hair wound over their heads and swords scabbarded at their waists.

The magister walked ahead of them, a cadre of six soldiers in front of him. The timbered buildings they passed had glazed tile roofs that curved out at each end, the highest peak at the center, often tipped by a copper bird corroded with verdigris.

Green paper lanterns hung overhead. Shops and stalls were not with wooden signs but brightly colored cloth banners stitched in Haolan Glyphic: Silkstress, Tailor, Cobbler, Washer, Meat Skewers, Fish Soup, Dumplings, Hot Pot.

Men pulled small chariots, enough for two sitting people, fleeting along the smooth paved streets. A low stone fortress stood, many sentries lining its walls, the sun shining and bouncing off their colorful armor.

A vast gate opened before them, a dozen men in total pushing out the thick wooden doors. The courtyard beyond was vast—gardens of slender trees with leaves of turquoise, pink, and yellow and flowers of even more varying colors. It was a city of lush life, exotic and unfamiliar to Thael. The magister led them past curving bridges over small streams, pale fish peeking underneath the large circular leaves floating over the surface. Small birds supped at hanging bird houses or bathed in glazed stone bowls holding rainwater from days past.

All those they passed stared with open curiosity at their party, speaking in hushed Haolo. They were now approaching a many-tiered tower, each level tapering out from the structure, lined with glazed tiles. Banners of green silk threaded with gold decorated the pavilion.

The guards opened the doors and the magister moved to the right staircase and they followed as he ascended

On the top floor, man sat upon a wooden throne at the end of a long table, a woman standing beside him. The magister began shutters to light the room and reveal the city beyond. After every shutter was open, the magister bowed before the man and exited down the staircase.

The man spoke in terse Haolo, pointing to the chair at the opposite end of the long table with a ringed hand. His jewelry, Thael noticed, were of the same black metal as the arch queen’s armor. His green robe was inlaid with gold thread, stitched with intricate patterns. The woman standing beside him wore a simple silk green robe.

The woman spoke in flawless Cadish, “Sit down, Envoy of Arcadia. Your guard must leave before we speak any further.”

Krystos cleared his throat before saying, “Will you allow one of my guards to stay? He speaks Haolo, and it may help with our discussions.”

“Very well. The rest of you, return to the ground level where you will be supplied with food and drink.”

Verena shot a glance to Thael before his cadre shuffled to leave down the steps.

Krystos sat down. “I am Krystos of the line Danir,” he said. “It is… a privilege to meet the Demon King.”

The woman spoke rapidly in Haolo, the man nodding and whispering back to the woman.

She spoke, “He is only known as such to his foes. Here, his name is Rao of the line Nobu. He-”

“Before we begin,” Thael interrupted. “Why don’t we speak truthfully?”

The woman paused, dark eyes narrowing. Krystos looked at him, frowning.

“I read your man’s lips,” he continued. “Maybe he is a king, but he is not the one who rules Haol, is he?”

The woman smirked. “You have a very astute man guarding you, Krystos. And of Haolan heritage, no less. Very well, men of Arcadia.” She waved to the man sitting, who stood in turn as she sat upon the throne.

“My name is Mitsune, of my husband’s line, Nobu. I hope we can reach an accord with your Empire and perhaps agree to a peace that may last our lifetimes, if not longer.”

Krystos frowned. “What title should I address you by?”

“Mitsune is my name, and I shall call you Krystos, no? You appear troubled, Krystos.”

“I was not expecting… well, this. You seem to be very reasonable. I too hope that we can achieve peace together.”

“Peace is not what seems to be your arch queen’s goal, however,” Mitsune said. “Did she really think she could colonize the entirety of Haol?”

Krystos shook his head. “The arch queen merely wished to establish outposts so as to know the earliest Haolan raids upon Arcadian soil.”

“And where does this soil end? In Arcadia? In your outposts? I understand the need to protect your people from the barbarity of others. Know, however, that Haol was never a nation, but a realm of numerous nations together. The actions of this group have been dealt with. They were one such kingdom wishing to go back to the old ways.”

She poured them each a cup of green tea them. It was cool tea and refreshing.

“But the old ways are fading,” she said, sitting back down. “How else could a mortalborn rule such a nation as this?”

Krystos gaped. “You are—”

“A mortalborn, yes. A mortalborn chosen by her people to lead this nation of Qinshu. United out of necessity. In a way, I must thank your arch queen. She has made something possible not seen since ages past. I tell you this, Krystos of the line Danir, because I judge that you are of much different character than your own kin. I hope you prove me right.”

Krystos nodded. “Tell me what we can do to reach a treaty.”

Mitsune produced a roll of parchment and spread over the table, weighing each corner with stones. From a drawer she produced writing implements

“You don’t have a scribe?” Krystos asked.

“It’s better this way. We can cut through into the heart of the matter.” She looked up then. “Your arch queen sent legions to our shores and began sacking any nearby Haolan villages and towns. Many people were slaughtered. This city itself was laid under siege. The mark your Empire has laid upon us is still fresh and festering. Many of my people would have us go to war with your nation. I am no fool, Arcadian. I know your monarchy would protect their own cities easily enough. But your towns, your villages of the mortalborn? In the end, it would only put us in a cycle of bloodshed and hatred, caught between whoever crosses the Oceanum first.”

“I… did not know of this,” Krystos said. “You act as if the Empire struck first. We did not come to raid your lands. Both of us wish to cease this war.”

“Yet here we are,” Mitsune said. “And as I said before, Haol is a realm of nations. We do not act under one ruler. Qinshu never invaded Arcadia. It was a copper kingdom, one now disposed of and stripped of its power. If we are to have peace, the Empire must first return its forces back to Arcadia. What are your arch queen’s terms?”

“The arch queen—my sister—would have no more raiding upon Arcadia.”

The woman scoffed, dropping the quill into the inkwell. “Go back to your arch queen and tell her then that it was not this nation’s actions.”

“Was Qinshu ever one nation before your rule?” Thael said.

Mitsune’s sharp eyes focused on him. “No, it was not, Haolan-Arcadian.”

“If so then, why not unite the rest of Haol? To have united Qinshu, as a mortalborn and a woman, is to have made the impossible possible. You said so yourself that it has been ages past since Qinshu was united. It would be a lesser thing to unify the realm.”

“Do you know of your homeland, Haolan-Arcadian?”

“My mother… was from Dardaran.”

Mitsune nodded. “Dardaran is not a nation, but a tribe of wandering nomads. Haol is vast—our ancestors settled here, taking the land through spilled sylven blood. Just as your north has the impassable Elder Forest, we have our own, the Twilight Forest, lying at the center of this realm. Over the Ages the khans and shahs sent armies in the tens of thousands into the forest, never to return. It was never to actually cleanse the forest, but cleanse Haol of its own ranks. You see, the mortalborn had risen up finally after a realization – that we could never tame this land. The mageborn were thrust out of power, the majority at least, and it seemed mortalborn now held equal influence. But then peace came, the sylven keeping to their Forest, and with it the land could no longer sustain our numbers. Some kingdoms fell and broke away into tribes such as the Dardaren, or turned to raiding. One such host reached your shores, and here we are.” Mitsune spoke softly then, “It would not unify so much as conquer and hold people prisoner here, only to break the balance so many deaths have come to make possible. I cannot unify this realm. You must tell the arch queen to never attempt an invasion here again, or I will not be able to hold back my people.”

Krystos shifted in his seat. “The arch queen does not respond well to… such invitations.”

“This is no threat,” the small woman stated flatly. “This will come to pass depending on the other’s actions after this accord is sealed and followed… or broken. It is your queen’s choice.”

Krystos steepled his hands, pressing them to his forehead as he closed his eyes and sighed. “My sister–” he opened his eyes “–is a poison to humanity. She does not care for anything or anyone, just her own whims and ends. Her power is something that can tear through armies as a knife cuts through paper. She will see your words as a challenge, and reach your shores. What will you do then?”

Mitsune smiled. “For every poison, there is always an antidote.”

“Not with my sister.”

“Perhaps… I am looking at the answer.”