Peace Treaty I

A bright ray of light streamed through the expansive opening of the Japanese-style garden, adorned with small canals, bonsai trees, stone ornaments, and a wooden gazebo near the centre. Like its own heavenly ecosystem, the canal water sparkled with pristine clarity, its bed lined with white gravel, and lively, multicoloured carp swimming gracefully within. In the distance, the cheerful chirping of birds created a serene atmosphere, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in another corner of the world.

The large garden was encircled by traditional Japanese architecture, featuring intricately crafted shoji screens and ledges. The open-plan design of the adjoining hall offered unobstructed views of the garden, allowing its beauty to be appreciated in full.

At the centre of the hall stood a grand arrangement of rectangular tables, reminiscent of a massive conference room. Velvet-finished chairs were positioned neatly around the table's perimeter. The table itself was exquisitely adorned with vibrant floral arrangements and sophisticated humidifiers, exuding an air of grace and aristocracy. The subtle aroma of nobility spread through the space, enhancing its regal atmosphere.

To the left, at the head of the table, sat an ethereal Wildren woman — Nohrell Voss Fenrith, the astral empress of the Dunkelheit Empire. She sipped delicately on her hot matcha tea, her posture poised and elegant, her silver fox tail neatly tucked beneath her chair. Her white dress, embellished with intricate gold embroidery, radiated refinement. A shimmering blue crystal embedded in her chest, a rare arcanite harnesser, further emphasised her otherworldly allure. Behind her, the flag of the Dunkelheit Empire, bearing a gear and sword symbol, was prominently displayed, a reminder of the tension in the room.

To the right, the head seat remained empty, accompanied by the flag of the Osten Empire. Its emblem of a staff and orbs symbolised the nation's ancient and enduring legacy of arcane magic.

Seated at the central position was the mediator of the peace treaty conference, Ryusei Sol Solara. A tall, slender man in his mid-fifties, he sat calmly, though his fidgeting gloved hands under the table betrayed his nerves. Nohrell's sharp senses didn't miss his unease, and as his gaze briefly met hers, she winked playfully, her teasing nature ever-present. Ryusei's sleek white hair was neatly combed back, and his bottom-framed glasses added a polished touch to his composed appearance. His dark navy suit, accented with silver, featured padded shoulders that lent him a more imposing figure. Behind him stood the golden flag of Solis Aeternum, emblazoned with a radiant sun, proudly on display.

Beside him sat his daughter, Aurelia Sol Solara. At just 14 years old, her round face hinted at her youth, yet her posture and demeanour reflected the grace of a well-groomed princess. Her vivid red hair and eyes, fiery and expressive like dragon flames, made her presence impossible to ignore.

Standing behind Aurelia was her steadfast guardian and childhood friend, Friederich Eir Regis. His composed stance, hands neatly folded behind his back, exuded the calm assurance of a steady rock. He wore a black suit accented with gold trim, proudly bearing the silver crest of House Regis on his chest. A golden-white katana sheath was fastened at his side, though notably without its blade.

Aurelia leaned close to her guardian, a playful glint in her eyes as she covered her lips with her hand. "Fried! Don't fall for the empress, alright?" She whispered mischievously, her teasing tone eliciting no visible reaction from the ever-impassive Friederich.

Friederich didn't respond, but his glare shifted to meet Aurelia's teasing gaze, his expression unwavering. After a moment, however, a faint pink hue began to dust his cheeks.

"Fufufu!" Aurelia chuckled quietly, delighted by his innocent reaction.

"Ahem!" Her father cleared his throat, a subtle prompt for Aurelia to cease her playful teasing. She straightened her posture and directed her attention forward, a mischievous glint still lingering in her eyes.

"Well, well, well… Look who decided to eventually show up," Nohrell's ethereal voice resounded through the hall, a rich, echoing tone akin to a grand pipe organ, as another party made their entrance.

Aurora Vere Borealis, the Astral Empress of the Osten Empire, strode into the room with purpose. Her movements were brisk yet somehow regal, an intricate balance of urgency and dignity. Despite her composure, the signs of exhaustion were etched into her pale, divine features, an inevitable toll from the recent invasion of Germund. Countless councils, measures, and inquiries with high lords and kings had left their mark.

Aurora, an elf, bore her heritage proudly, her pointed ears a testament to her lineage. Her eyes and hair shimmered a bright silver under the sunlight, an otherworldly brilliance that only heightened her presence. She was clad in obsidian armour with gold accents, resembling the noble knights of old. Black feathers adorned her shoulder plates, and her dark cloak, crafted from griffin wings, a trophy from her victory over the legendary beast two centuries prior, fluttered ominously as she moved.

Ignoring Nohrell's feeble provocation, Aurora settled into her designated seat, situated 20 metres from her adversary. A butler meticulously adjusted her chair, and she offered him a slow blink of gratitude, a rare display of humility despite her immense power. The butler nodded swiftly and disappeared into the background.

Without waiting for pleasantries, Aurora spoke, her voice cutting through the room with stern authority. "Speak, fox." The words carried a weight akin to a compelling spell, though none was cast. Her gaze locked onto Nohrell's with unyielding intensity, brimming with loathing for the woman she held responsible for the lives of over 70 million of her citizens, and counting.

"Oh, you don't have to command me, Aurora," Nohrell replied mockingly, tracing the rim of her teacup with a silver-tipped nail. Her eyes flicked up, meeting Aurora's fiery glare with playful disdain. "Since you refuse to address me properly, I see no reason to extend you the courtesy."

"How insolent! Utter another pestilent word, and I'll cut you down myself!" Aurora roared, her voice reverberating with unrestrained fury.

Nohrell's lips parted in a sly smile, her hands lifting in a gesture of mock surrender. "Such temper. Don't worry, Aurora, I wouldn't dare spoil your theatrics."