Chapter Twenty: Negotiations (Part One)

This was a towering, majestic cliff, one side of which bore traces of deliberate carving, as if shaped by human hands. Even from afar, one could discern what seemed to be four faces engraved upon its surface—those of the four core members of the Revolutionary Committee who once led the people of the Tianlun Dynasty. The fifth member, however, had insisted on not having his likeness carved, though it was he who originally proposed commemorating these great pioneers in this manner.

This did nothing to diminish Warenheit’s reputation; in fact, even the Democrats praised him in private, for among the four carved faces, two belonged to Liberals and two to Democrats, subtly implying equality between the two parties. In reality, perhaps such parity existed while all five committee members lived, but as time passed and Warenheit alone remained among the founding fathers, the balance of influence shifted toward the Liberals. Especially during the honeymoon period between the Liberal Party and the new generation of influential merchants, who favored one of the Liberals’ slogans: free trade.

Within the two chambers, the Democrats’ sway in the Lower House was far inferior to that of the Liberals, and at one point even the Upper House saw their influence wane. Fortunately, about ten years ago, Senator Kidd emerged—a remarkably young political star whose candid and bold demeanor set him apart within the traditionally conservative Democratic Party. Gradually, he became its leader and managed to restore parity between the parties in the Senate.

The Capitol of Landia stood atop an open hill, unobstructed, offering a clear view of the cliff and its carved faces. This was where the Landian Parliament conducted its business; members frequently debated, scrutinized, and rejected various bills here.

The Capitol was always well-guarded, but today security measures were even tighter than usual. The Inspectorate’s secret agents had been mobilized, the First Army of Valencia was deployed, and even the parliamentarians found the atmosphere inconvenient. What was once a path symbolizing honor now saw stricter military checks. Landian law stipulated that each parliamentarian could bring only one assistant when entering the Capitol to exercise their duties, but legislators often disregarded this regulation, bringing secretaries, aides, and bodyguards in excess. Today, however, anyone exceeding the permitted number was denied entry.

Naturally, this did not apply to the Raven. Exceptions could always be made—and now, under Warenheit’s instructions, the Raven entered the Capitol disguised as a member of the First Special Regiment responsible for security, conveniently stationed outside the room where Warenheit was meeting with the Church envoy. Although he could not enter, he would be able to react instantly should anything unexpected occur.

At this moment, in a room within the Capitol, just before the Church envoy was to address the Landian parliamentarians, Warenheit was engaged in a fierce exchange with Archbishop Child.

“I come as the representative of His Holiness the Pope and the goodwill of the Cardinal Council, hoping that Landia, too, may bask in the merciful light of the Lord of Radiance,” Child said gently.

Warenheit sat opposite him. “Landians have always lived in sunlight, Archbishop Child.”

“But God says you could draw closer to Him, making redemption easier,” Child replied.

“You mean the Sacred Alliance Treaty?” Warenheit cut directly to the heart of the matter.

“Yes. Joining it will bring only benefits to Landia, never harm. You must have seen its contents among the relics of the Tianlun Dynasty. If you are not familiar enough, you may consult this document,” Child’s gaze grew sharp, locking onto Warenheit.

Sir Lind, standing nearby, silently produced a magically treated sheet of parchment and handed it to Warenheit. The sheet shimmered with a faint white glow, resistant to dust, decay, and moisture; decades later, it would remain pristine, even withstanding moderate heat.

“It’s just like the relic I saw in the Tianlun Dynasty—the treaty bearing the name of the first emperor. Though printing and papermaking have improved, magical paper like this remains rare,” Warenheit said, opening the copy of the treaty and reading it intently.

The two Church envoys maintained proper decorum. Warenheit seemed to scrutinize every word, as if hunting for errors rather than reading. Lind remained cool and detached, standing beside the Archbishop like a pillar of stone. Child, more patient, finished the tea provided for guests, a beverage from the Far East now favored by merchants and nobles, and began to study the ceiling and walls, as though searching for secrets, until his gaze wandered past the window to the distant cliff and its faces.

The atmosphere in the room became oppressively tense. Though the treaty was not lengthy, Warenheit took an inordinate amount of time to read it, demonstrating its importance. At last, he looked up and smiled. “I presume this treaty is the purpose of your visit to Landia?”

“Exactly.” Child’s gaze returned from the window. “Lord Warenheit, Landia’s accession would bring only benefits, never harm.”

“Oh?” Warenheit prompted.

Child explained, “The treaty does not interfere with the internal affairs of its signatories; you can see it is entirely voluntary. So if you have any concerns, they are unnecessary.”

He emphasized the word “voluntary.” Warenheit pondered before saying, “The core of this treaty consists of two points: first, the signatories jointly praise the gods and swear to uphold the supremacy of their respective deities within their domains; second, those who blaspheme must be deprived of life, and any who dare to shelter them are equally guilty, becoming enemies to all nations and powers party to the treaty.”

“Correct. The first point is phrased thus because elves and certain other races do not worship celestial deities, and forcing them would be counterproductive. The key is the second point: all blasphemers must die, regardless of who they are. Whether elves, druids, or even dwarves, none would object—believe me. Though the orc chieftains have not signed, this treaty thoroughly considers everyone’s interests; even the orc court would agree,” Child said with a smile.

Warenheit tapped the table lightly. “But how is a blasphemer determined?”

“God will tell us,” Child replied slowly.

Warenheit stared directly at him. “God will tell us?”

“God will tell us!” Lind suddenly interjected, his voice firm and devout.

Warenheit and the two envoys locked eyes, swords clashing in silent tension. Just as sparks were about to fly, Warenheit suddenly laughed and turned aside.

“Envoy, this matter is of great significance. Perhaps you do not fully grasp how the Landian Republic differs from the old Tianlun Dynasty. We value human life, believe in equality and freedom, and the stipulation that blasphemers must be deprived of life contradicts our constitution, for it contains no such provision, nor is it established in our criminal law. In short, we are not like the Tianlun Dynasty—there, the emperor’s word was law; here, we must find legal precedent in the statutes before we can act,” Warenheit said with a wry smile.

“That is simple,” Child replied, as though discussing the swatting of a fly, offering instructions as casually as if he were teaching Warenheit how to do so. “If the provision is missing, write it in. I am willing to remain in Landia until I see this clause added to your laws with my own eyes.”