The Fourth Fall - Chapter 29 preview (Patreon)

The next morning, deep bags beneath a lot of the younger cultivator eyes. The start of the negotiations that day happened faster, only simple announcements of those enterring this time, only for the most notable of personages. If they had to make formal announcements for them all, with the full list of titles and honors, it would never end. Too many hours would be spent on these things, and so practicality gave way to ritual.

All for the best, as far as Wu Ying was concerned.

Ensconed behind the Fourth Prince, Wu Ying listened to the carefully worded arguments. It had been hours, and only now were they getting around to stating opening positions. Beyond, of course, the initial statement of intent - that all parties were here looking for a lasting peace. Yet, it was in the details, that the negotiation would break or succeed.

A simple thing, yet it was made complex by the multiple needs.

"The Cai disagree to the wording of 'reparations' for the gold that is to be returned, especially for border villages that had, traditionally, been part of the lands of the expanded Cai nationality." The Minister seated across from the Fourth Prince was saying, waving a hand at the document presented before him.

Wu Ying mentally groaned, but kept his face smooth. Yes, wording was a complex issue. But also, what was considered the final border between Wei and Cai. For the Cai were not traditionally part of this land, having conquered the kingdom that the Wei had bordered, the former nation state of Gu. A smaller kingdom, but one that had - traditionally - been allied to the Wei. Their borders, because of the intermixing and marriage of nobles, had been somewhat less firm. And thus, the on-going discussion here.

Then, of course, the discussion between the First Princes and the King itself.

"Signing this document is acceptable. I, the King of Cai, will sign it myself. That is the only way forward, is it not?" Wen Dung was firm, focused as he spoke. The cup in his hand moved with each expansive gesture, the tea never managing to spill as he did so. "But your King's must sign it. Both of them."

"Impossible," Prince Shen Qi objected immediately, First Prince of Shen. Of course they would object. To set themselves up for that kind of burden, it would harness their progress. Harm them. And this war was far away from their borders.

"My father would object..." the First Prince of Wei replied too, his voice soft, gentle. Cultured but no less firm.

And there, another portion of the discussion, another point to fight over and find, somehow, a way through.

The Wei father-in-law on the other end, discussing with another Minister. Holding court, on the exact assurances, the wording of the document that would be negotiated and, most importantly, the kind of goods that would be offered.  Another complex discussion, for what each wanted as repayment could be expansive, as was the timing.

Reparations, timing and the terminology used, the admission of wrongdoing or the denial of it, the method to enforce the peace, the assurances that might be made and the payments for minor breaches, penalties and methods to discuss when aforementioned minor breaches of the peace treaty occured. After all, no one did not want to inflict a spiritual wound upon oneself because of an overenthusiatic border guard or a lieutenant that led their cavalry across the wrong border.

No, all these aspects had to be discussed, argued, put into writing, shaped such that the final document and the intent as well as the practicalities of the treaty could be shaped correctly. An agreement between two people might be handled by a handshake, but when it took into account nations and daos, details mattered.

Or so Wu Ying was led to believe by the talk below. He was, thankfully, not required to put his own cultivation base to test here. His job was only to listen, to gauge. To watch for betrayal, and to offer what little insight he might find. All down the long table, all across the open air tent and outside, in the gardens, he watched and listened.

"The Haunting Bridge forest stretches a hundred and eighty li into our domain, and sixty li into ours. We have never, of course, managed to journey deep within, because of the forest's guardians. Are you willing to accept the borders of the forest as the buffer area between our people and call the forest itself neutral ground?"

"Yes, but what of logging? We have five villages along the borders, all of which utilise logging to some extent as part of their existence. Two of those villages make their existence entirely from the trees, floating trunks down river..."

"Well, about that...."

One discussion, between two bureaucrats.

"Those crossbows you sent, beautiful weapons."

"Pride of the Cai."

"Not many bolts. We'd be interested in buying more. Maybe hiring some of your crossbowmakers, for a few months."

"Ah, the bolts we can sell. The crafstmen are not possible."

"Not the Masters, of course..."

More negotiations, between soldiers now, but no less heated in its own way.

"I did not expect to see an orthodox member of the Shen willing to embrace practicality, like you." A cup of wine, offered to Yin Xue where they stood, watching their own people.

"Practicality?" Yin Xue said, taking the cup.

"Of course. Use what you can to advance, of course." One of the Core Formation cultivators from the vanguard, grinning. Teeth, like a shark, like a demon turned back at Yin Xue. "How did you find integrating the chi?"

Searching, hunting, each of these soldiers, each bureaucrat as they spoke through the day. Seeking division, seeking weakness, seeking advantage.

And Wu Ying, standing behind the Fourth Prince, tried not fall asleep.

***

Lunch was a formal affair. The food that was brought forth, cooked in an open air kitchen not far from the negotiating tent was overlooked by multiple guards and cultivators. Cooks and poison testers checked over the workings long before it was served, a variety of cultivation techniques and tools utilised to ensure the safety and security of the dishes. It was an elaborate affair, with multiple cultivators overlooking the entire procession and the ingredients that were utilised.

For Wu Ying, and those other cultivators on-guard, they stood aside and watched the consumption of the dishes, a delicate dance this first day. Later on, he knew, foodstuff would be sent from their own buildings to feed the guards, when they were replaced by others. In the meantime, he could only watch in silence as the affair was conducted, dishes that were as much works of art as they were foodstuff being presented.

Jellies, carefully formed and decorated with petals and tulips and roots, reminiscent of well known geographic features.

A hundred year chicken soup, so clear and clean that one could see the beautiful porcelain beneath. The dish itself soo thin that it was nearly translucent, a work of a master craftsman.

Spirit vegetables, steamed and then stir fried, with just a touch of oil; the moisture within the plants breaking free, the entire dish temperature controlled by the infusion of a slight dao, so that when the dark green gailan were bitten into, they crunched with the sweet sound of fresh and ripe vegetables. Mushrooms, four different kinds, intermixed. The entire dish glowing with the contained spiritual energy of their origins.

Freshwater fish, baked in clay and salt and left in the earth to cook over coals for a day, herbs stuffed within with slices of ginger and garlic along the outside. So perfectly cooked that when served, the pieces could be split and plated with a single serving spoon.

And those were the common dishes, not the more exquisite ones that involved rare spirit beasts, portions of plants that were as exotic as they were rare or mixed dishes shaped in delicate arrangements.

So many dishes that the meal itself took hours, to serve, to taste, to consume, for the eaters to digest and discuss. Food was not just a method of sustenance, not in such a place. It was an entire event, a showcase of culture and expertise, of wealth and worthiness. To rush the meal and the discussion within was bad taste.

A long lunch, then more discussion. Wu Ying exited soon after, when everything had settled, another Elder taking his place. He offered a nod to Elder Hsu as the man took station, staying away only long enough for a quick bite. He returned as soon as was viable, taking only a moment to relax, settle his mind and go through his forms mentally to wake himself before he returned to his duties.

More hours of boredom, more careful discussion. When one group might finish and come to a tentative agreement, the said tentative agreement was passed on to the next individual in-line. They too had to review the words, understand the full details of the agreement, then add in their own understanding of their aspect - whether it was military, bureaucratic, political or cultivator - and make what amendments to that portion of the agreement that was required. Of course, at that point, new discussion and negotiation was required.

Add the fact that there were not two parties involved, but three - though only technically two, since the Wei and Shen kingdoms were supposedly working together - and the entire negotiation process was moving at a snail's pace. Even when the major parties - the King and Princes - were directly involved, no singular agreement had been made. At best, a rough idea of what each party might be willing to consider was all that seemed to have been agreed upon.

To Wu Ying, listening to the various conversations, it felt like the groups were circling one another, well outside of measure. They might test one another's basic reactions, their likelihood to react to feints, the speed and steadiness of their footwork, even perhaps stepping briefly into range to attempt to score a touch - but it was all wary. All, a game. Like a sparring duel in a rink, where points were utilised to see the winner, and the battle could be fought over and over again.

It was not without some relief that when tea was called, and the group adjourned to the exterior, that the wind cultivator let out a tiny breath of relief.

Holding a cup of tea in hand, waving away the heavier trays of refreshment, Wu Ying drifted along the outer edges of the gathering. He watched, as those Elders more deeply embedded in the discussions were drawn into further talks. His martial sister, the Sect Head, even Yin Xue were targeted by their counterparts. Often, by those individuals who they had not spoken to earlier.

"It is all rather dull, is it not?" the Patriarch's voice cut through the hubbub, even as a bubble of chi hindered others from seeing or listening in to them.

"Patriarch Yi," Wu Ying turned and clasped his hands around the tea cup, bowing a little. "I had not noticed your presence."

"Hah! No wonder you're not part of that group, if you lie so poorly." the Patriarch of the Eight Stanzas said with a snort. He tapped the ground with his cane, sending gentle pulses of chi through the surroundings as he had been doing so the entire day. Checking on the formations and letting the reflections give him greater understanding of the world around.

"The Patriarch is wise."

"Ooooh, much better." the man wrinkled his nose. "Now stop it. If I wanted to speak with a politician, I'd let any of those children approach."

Now Wu Ying turned his attention to those around, realising that he had missed the subtle twitches in chi, the urgings of aura that he had ignored. The Patriarch wielded his control of his chi and aura like a scalpel, driving the attention of those who might approach away by twisting their emotions or blocking their view. It was a subtle twisting of light and illusion that was individualised to each target,and thus breathtakingly complex.

"My apologies. I am surprised, however, Patriarch that you are not part of the negotiations. Are the Eight Stanza's not a Sect that focuses upon the utilisation of words?"

"Poems and stories. Words to paint pictures, where pictures fail. Talismans and formations are some of our specialties too, of course. Because what are formations and their structuring but sentences themselves, but in another language." A tight smile. "That is why we are not allowed to participate."

"Not allowed? They fear your skill?" Wu Ying's gaze flicked around the group, turned to the Patriarch to see if there was any reaction. The man just snorted.

"No, because we understand what words are. And where it must, by virtue of being language itself, must fail."

"The Dao cannot be bound by simple words. That is the first and foremost truth that we hold dear." Patriarch Yi intoned. "The second truth, that human will cannot be bound by oaths, which are but words themselves." He inclined his head. "A further corollary, which we allow our students to learn at their own pace, is that human greed and desire is what often pushes such acts."

"Yet you told me this."

"You're not my student, now are you?" A flicker of a smile. "Nor are  you some ink-wet, fingernails stained youngling who couldn't differentiate a metaphor from an allegory."

"The Patriarch is very kind."

"I am. And you're a bared blade that has drawn much attention. Not today, but in a few days, you'll be challenged. Do you know what you intend, when that happens?"

"What can I offer, if I am but a bared blade?" Wu Ying raised and dropped a shoulder.

"What, indeed." A tilt of his head, the old man looking up from bushy brows. "But a metaphor can be taken too far, a passage read wrongly. Sometimes, the best passages are those that are subtle, don't you agree?"

Now, the wind cultivator was at a loss of words. He peered at the older man, unsure of what he wanted from him. Rather than answer, the Patriarch released the bubble of chi, tamped down again hard with his cane and sent a ripple of chi outwards, cracking multiple illusion formations around them and then tromped away, muttering about rude cultivators.

Leaving the wind cultivator to feel like he had been caught in a whirlwind himself. An unusual proposition, for one who was the wind.