C27 To Buy One's Life

"Marquis, it seems the foreigners can't hold out any longer—they're coming over waving white flags," First Wang announced, pointing to a group of people in the distance. Leading the group were Ryoji Otomo and Shabarov.

These two were the chief negotiators. Shabarov, as the commander of the allied forces, was a natural choice for this role. Typically, one would expect a high-ranking Envoy from either the Windsar or Galru Empire to be present, as any such Envoy would outrank Ryoji Otomo.

The reason Ryoji Otomo was sent instead was that none of the Lord Ministers were willing to shoulder this responsibility.

Gao Shaoyi wasn't concerned about their authority to make decisions; after all, the upcoming negotiations were within their purview.

After being thoroughly searched, the two were escorted to a desolate negotiation site, visible to both the King Protector Army and the allied forces.

This youngster is playing a dangerous game!

Exchanging glances, Ryoji Otomo and Shabarov shared the same thought. But as the proverb goes, "We are the fish on the chopping board," and with so many eyes upon them, they felt the pressure of their precarious position.

At the negotiation site, there was only a single table. Gao Shaoyi sat there, feet propped up on the table, exuding an air of extreme arrogance.

But the King Protector Army soldiers relished the sight. These foreigners, who once strutted around so boldly, were now getting a taste of their own medicine at the hands of our Marquis.

Even the local commoners, hearing of the ceasefire, had boldly come to witness the scene, something they could never have imagined before.

"Our Young Marquis is truly a man's man!"

"Indeed! Like father, like son. The old Marquis once sent the Galru troops running in the south. If it weren't for Prince Kang and his spineless lot, how could we have been forced to cede land and pay reparations?"

"The days ahead will be tough for these foreigners."

The locals continued to chat and laugh amongst themselves, a stark contrast to the past when the mere act of appearing near the battlefield would have them detained by the allied forces, forced into labor without pay, and with no guarantee for their safety.

"Marquis Gao, surely this isn't the posture of someone ready to negotiate, is it?" Shabarov cleared his throat. In a hidden spot, away from the prying eyes of soldiers and civilians alike, you could act as you please, leveraging your advantage. But here, under the scrutiny of both sides, how do we gracefully step down?

"If you're here to negotiate, take a seat. If not, go fetch someone who will. But let me be clear—I'm short on time. The imperial decree demands my presence in the Embassy Area today, and time is slipping away." Gao Shaoyi gestured to the sun overhead, signaling his impatience.

Ryoji Otomo opened his mouth to speak, but Shabarov held him back.

A true man knows when to bend. This youngster holds the cards; we must bow our heads.

Ryoji Otomo, always the most vehement, was also the quickest to yield when push came to shove. Walking here, he had sensed the lethal resolve of the King Protector Army. If this young upstart took offense, who knows? He might just end our lives on a whim.

"We are prepared to discuss this conflict with you..."

Neither Ryoji Otomo nor Shabarov took their seats, standing instead due to Gao Shaoyi's overbearing demeanor, ready to negotiate on their feet.

"Hold on a moment..." Gao Shaoyi tapped the table, cutting off Ryoji Otomo mid-sentence—an act of discourtesy, particularly egregious in diplomatic talks.

"There's nothing to discuss. I never agreed to negotiate. I expect you to accept these terms of surrender and present them to your superiors. Should you refuse..." Gao Shaoyi flipped through a book, then pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket, bearing the terms he had drafted. What are you two thinking? You represent a defeated nation. Do you believe you're in any position to set terms?

Remember when we were the ones defeated and signing a treaty? You showed us no quarter then. Have you forgotten that already?

You...

Shabarov was gasping for breath, his hands braced against the table, struggling between the urge to lash out and the fear of doing so. The discomfort was palpable, and he felt as though the rage in his chest might just make him burst.

"Do you think we've been defeated?"

It took a full minute for Shabarov to wrestle his fury under control.

"You haven't been defeated, but I have. What are you going to do about it?"

Gao Shaoyi slid his feet off the table and stood up, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. Was there anything more persuasive than the scene before them? Over a thousand bodies lay here, with another thousand unable to rise. If this wasn't defeat, what was?

Ryoji Otomo quickly tugged at Shabarov's arm, signaling that now was not the time for such discussions. They needed to find out what demands this formidable opponent had in store.

Shabarov realized that, given the current circumstances, verbal sparring was futile.

He summoned all his will to calm his racing heart, but upon reading the first demand, his pulse soared to 200, and he felt his veins might burst.

Three million imperial coins in war reparations.

That was the first condition penned by Gao Shaoyi.

Historically, it was always the Qian Empire compensating the six great powers. When had the tables turned, with the powers owing the Qian Empire?

And three million imperial coins was no trifling sum.

One imperial silver coin could be exchanged for a thousand sons, each son enough to buy a fire cake. And this was merely a minor skirmish. Surely, even the six great powers wouldn't demand three million imperial silver coins for such a conflict.

"We cannot accept this. It's a minor skirmish. Why should we owe you three million silver coins?"

Ryoji Otomo was the picture of diplomatic composure, despite the inferno within. His calm tone belied the tightly clenched fists that betrayed his seething anger.

The envoys hadn't even considered reparations in their discussions. They thought that not demanding money from the defeated Qian Empire was already a generous gesture. Little did they know, the Empire would turn the tables and demand payment from them.

"Your lives, and theirs, have a price. Consider this your ransom—four million imperial silver coins."

Gao Shaoyi gestured towards Ryoji Otomo and Shabarov, then swept his arm in a wide arc. His finger came to rest on the remnants of the six great powers' defeated forces.