Chapter 39: Negotiations for Peace

"Who here knows anything about this so-called City of Death?" In the grand council hall of the Golden Stone Empire, His Majesty the Emperor spoke gravely. "They claim we attacked their ally, the Elven Kingdom, and have now declared war on our Golden Stone Empire."

"Your Majesty, a few days ago, the Third Prince led thirty thousand men to the Elven Kingdom to propose a marriage alliance. For reasons unknown, fighting broke out. The Elven Kingdom reportedly suffered nearly twenty-six thousand casualties, and of the elite thirty thousand soldiers our prince brought, barely more than twenty returned alive. According to those survivors, it was the sudden assault of a black-armored heavy cavalry from the rear that led to the prince's defeat and death. This black heavy cavalry must be the very same heavy cavalry from the City of Death."

"That they could annihilate our thirty thousand elite infantry with but ten thousand, even if by surprise, speaks of a truly fearsome fighting force."

"But they're merely a single fortress—how much power could they truly possess? All we need is to dispatch a hundred thousand light cavalry to thoroughly crush them."

"Is that so?" The Empire’s intelligence officer spoke up. "General Nemo, how do you rate yourself against General Kodo of the Demonsteel Empire? If you each led forces of equal strength, would you be confident of victory?"

"I admit, I'm not quite his equal. But this City of Death—what could it possibly amount to?"

"The City of Death was once called Mist City..." No sooner had the intelligence officer said these words than a wave of shocked exclamations swept the hall. General Nemo's face turned ashen. He knew, of course, of that great war between the Dragonrock Empire and the Demonsteel Empire.

"They relocated to the Death Forest and rebuilt the City of Death precisely to avoid the suspicions of the Dragonrock Empire. The name 'City of Death' was not their own choice—it was given by their enemies. Now, they have over twenty thousand heavy cavalry, also named by their foes: the Death Cavalry. Ordinary mages can’t harm them at all. Their cavalry is best suited to battle on the plains—and, most unfortunately, our nation is composed mostly of plains. Their archers wield the latest weaponry, called repeating crossbows, which can loose twenty arrows in rapid succession. Their heavy cavalry is equipped with even larger ballistae, capable of firing a hundred bolts in a single volley. This has been confirmed by the soldiers who escaped from the Elven Kingdom. When they come within range of our mage battalions, none of our mages are left standing. Their bolts have twice the range of our mages’ effective spells. According to our intelligence, when they were still in Mist City, they tested a massive siege ballista—just once, and it shattered an iron-clad city gate a meter thick. I doubt any empire’s gates are that thick, are they?"

The intelligence officer fell silent, unwilling to say more—but the consequences of silence would be more than the empire could bear.

What to do? Fight? Could we win? Are we truly stronger than the Demonsteel Empire? We are only richer, nothing more! If we do not fight, word is their forces are already nearing our borders. That damned Third Prince—of all people to provoke, he had to provoke this harbinger of death. Gods, what are we to do?

The council hall of the Golden Stone Empire was in utter chaos. Suddenly, a voice broke through: "We could hire underground assassins to kill their leaders!"

"Yes, haven’t we done so before? We’ll do the same this time—if he dares come, he’ll never leave alive."

At once, the ministers’ spirits revived. But the intelligence officer’s words once again dashed them into despair.

"I'm afraid that won’t work this time."

"Why not?"

"First, no outsider can enter the City of Death without permission. Their walls are twenty meters high—four meters taller than our own royal city. Infiltration is impossible. Disguising oneself is even more impossible—they always move in squads; you couldn’t sneak in among them. Second, and more importantly, the notorious string of assassinated slave-masters three years ago—my investigations all point to Mist City. In other words, those assassinations were very likely carried out by them. Their operatives are at least as skilled as any underground organization. If even one of them falls to a hidden blade, what’s to prevent their assassins—spread across every empire—from coming here for vengeance? Remember, there used to be a slave trade, but now? Who still dares? Back then, many slave-masters and their entire households were slaughtered—whole families wiped out, their wealth looted. Their methods put any underground assassin organization to shame—more professional, more ruthless. As I understand it, even if we tried to hire these underground groups now, once they knew their target was the City of Death, we might find ourselves their first victims."

"What then, my ministers?" The Emperor of the Golden Stone Empire was sweating bullets.

"Report—"

As the ministers argued themselves into a stupor, an urgent dispatch from the front lines arrived by express courier.

"Two divisions of Death Cavalry from the City of Death, along with about ten thousand infantry and eight thousand archers, have reached our border city, Jinke."

"What? So soon?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. They broke open our city gates the moment they arrived. We do not even know if the city remains in our hands."

"Report—"

Even as he spoke, another urgent message arrived.

"General Weng Bai, commander of the Jinke garrison, sends this emergency report."

"Read it—quickly!"

"Your Majesty: Jinke was surrounded by enemy corps overnight. Both gates have been smashed by their colossal weapons. Most of our defenders have been slain by a strange type of arrow cart, with five times the range of our own archers. Our mage corps has been annihilated. I beg Your Majesty to send reinforcements at once, or I shall have no choice but to die for my country. General Weng Bai Qike! Urgent!"

"Your Majesty..."

"What can we do? We cannot defeat them, and we cannot hire assassins. Reinforcements? They haven’t even used their cavalry yet."

"Your Majesty, let us negotiate peace!"

"It seems we have no other option. Who knows what terms they’ll demand? Ah..." For the first time, the Golden Stone Empire was forced to bow. "Mora, as Minister of Finance, you will negotiate with them."

The Emperor seemed to age ten years overnight.

Meanwhile, outside the besieged city of Jinke—

"General, the gates have been breached. Why aren’t we charging inside?" a cavalry captain asked, puzzled.

"I know full well our warriors could storm in and slaughter everyone. But if we did, this place would lose its value," the general replied.

"Eh?"

Seeing the captain’s confusion, Cain could only smile bitterly. These were all instructions from Moffe, and with Cain’s temperament, he’d have stormed the city long ago. But Moffe had explained, and Cain agreed: "We do not seek to destroy the Golden Stone Empire—what good would conquering such a vast realm do, when none of you want to be emperor? Strike swiftly, teach them a lesson, display our strength—then they’ll never dare provoke us again, and will have to pay us a fortune in gold. If we conquered everything, Cain, you’d have to be emperor yourself."

Moffe’s words had sent cold sweat pouring down Cain’s back. To rule an empire was a fate he dreaded more than battle. Moffe had taught him: surround, but do not storm. Hurt them enough, and they will come to negotiate—then we can name our price.

"General, a certain old man claiming to be the Golden Stone Empire's Minister of Finance requests to see you outside the camp." At last, Cain thought, just as the city lord predicted.

"Very well, let us meet this Minister of Finance."

When the Minister of Finance entered the tent and saw Cain seated arrogantly at the center, a wave of fear overcame him. To extract as much as possible from this imperial dignitary, Cain and the other cavalry captains in the tent had all assumed their berserker forms—towering figures, black armor exuding murderous intent, enough to make the minister’s knees go weak.

"You—what do you want here?" Cain asked coldly.

"I am the Minister of Finance of the Golden Stone Empire, sent by His Majesty to discuss terms of peace."

"You may leave. My orders are to sweep through the Golden Stone Empire—we have not been given authority to negotiate," Cain replied solemnly.

"General..." The plump minister began to panic.

"Do you even know whom you’ve provoked?" Cain snorted. "To lay hands on our allies, and on the family of our lord’s beloved—did you really think our city lord would let you go unpunished?"

"It was the Third Prince’s ignorance, not our intention to provoke the Elven Kingdom! But this is all in the past. Our empire will compensate both the Elven Kingdom and your forces. Please, General, order a halt to the assault, and let us discuss terms at length."

"Compensation?" Cain sneered. "We have no need of your compensation. Once our army passes, what was ours remains ours—and what was yours will become ours as well."

The Minister of Finance was stunned—did they intend to destroy the empire entirely?

His heart went cold at the thought. What to do, what to do? He had to find a way. On entering the camp, he had seen the legendary Death Cavalry, ready but yet to be unleashed. The sight of their black armor and the aura they exuded convinced him that his empire’s forces could never withstand such a force. Watching the strange arrow carts launch massive bolts into the city from afar, his heart clenched in dread.

"General, if our nation pours all its strength into resisting, even should your army prevail, it would be a costly victory. Why not accept our emperor’s offer of peace? As for compensating your city and the Elven Kingdom for their losses, name your terms. Those I can approve, I will do so immediately; anything beyond my authority, I swear to answer within three days to your satisfaction. What say you, General?" The minister looked at Cain pleadingly.