Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 1824, Section 1796: The Standard of Victory

Now Oyestalan was certain that the man before him was definitely not just a messenger. He was a trusted advisor to the emperor, and perhaps even his eyes and ears.

If we were to draw an analogy, perhaps this person should be considered another 'Royal Coroner', Stephen Skellen.

When dealing with such people, demonstrating loyalty is more important than demonstrating wisdom or ability.

“Very well,” the ambassador said, changing his expression and demeanor in the blink of an eye. He became calm and composed, completely submissive to the emperor’s orders. “It is only natural for the defeated to suffer, and I have clearly received Your Majesty’s orders.”

He assured, "I will try to make this a two-way negotiation, not a complete failure. I understand this; my family has been involved in diplomacy for four generations. I myself have been a diplomat for thirty years."

“Of course,” Lowardon smiled and nodded, “I am certainly familiar with your family’s expertise, which is why I am here.”

Oyestylan bowed slightly, awaiting what was to come.

The emperor's envoy swirled his wine glass again: "My dear Baron, the reason you don't understand the emperor's order is because you think the sign of victory in war should be: the winner waving his flag and loudly proclaiming without restraint that everything I see is mine!"

"Unfortunately, similar ideas are rampant in this market. But neither I nor those who gave me power see it that way."

“Victory, in our eyes, should be like this: the loser must buy the winner’s goods, and should gladly pay for them, because the winner’s goods are better and cheaper.”

"The winning side's currency will also have more influence than the losing side's, and they will be more confident. Do you understand now, Ambassador Oyestalan? Can you distinguish between the winners and losers now?"

“I think I… understand?” the ambassador asked hesitantly.

“Good, we are the victors,” Lowarden continued. “But to solidify our victory and legitimize it, a contract must be signed. And quickly, at all costs!”

"Not only must it be fast, but the contract must also be strong and powerful! It must be able to break the shackles of retaliatory tariffs, trade blockades, and trade protectionism!"

His Excellency the Ambassador nodded sincerely this time.

Lowarden nodded in agreement: "In our earlier military operations, we destroyed their handicrafts and agriculture. We did this to destroy their production capacity and force them to buy our goods."

"But our merchants and goods cannot cross the hostile border. What would happen then? We would face a crisis of overproduction! After all, the empire has always been running at full speed for expansion."

“Your Excellency, your influential family, which has been engaged in diplomacy for four generations, is also closely connected with these industries. You must know whether what I’m saying is true or false.”

“I understand.” Oyestalan didn’t hesitate at all this time, but then he unconsciously lowered his voice, even though it was virtually impossible for anyone to eavesdrop in this room.

“Yes, I understand. But I need to confirm first that the orders I’m carrying out come from the Emperor himself, and not… from some business group?”

“Emperors will change sooner or later; the throne will pass from one generation to the next, Baron,” Lowarden said bluntly. “Of course, our Emperor seems to think more than any previous emperor, but that’s not a big problem.”

"And you don't need to worry. Your order does indeed come from His Majesty himself, and its purpose is for the future and well-being of the empire. But I do not deny that His Majesty did consult certain business groups in the process of making the decision."

The envoy unbuttoned the gold button on his collar and pulled out a badge pendant with a burning star inside a gold triangle.

“This piece of jewelry is truly…beautiful!” Ambassador Oyestellan once again demonstrated his comprehension skills. “It is undoubtedly very expensive and quite unique. May I ask where you purchased it?”

“You can’t buy it,” Lowarden said with a laugh. “You’ll have to find a way to win it.”
-
Amidst endless arguments, insults, and debates, the final day of the agenda has arrived.

“If this lady and gentlemen allow,” Hilard Fitz-Oyestalin adopted a tone familiar to outsiders, and judging from past experience, what he was about to say was quite important.

"If you allow me, I will read the message from Emhyr var Emris, the Emperor of Nilfgaard, protected by the great Sun Wheel..."

“Oh, here we go again,” Demavie said through gritted teeth. Dicoscher sighed softly. None of this escaped Oyestalan’s eyes.

But he knew that these people, who had already sorted out their own issues at the negotiating table, were actually not difficult to deal with. The real problem was the one that hadn't yet been revealed.

really.

"Get straight to the point." Lan En, a demon hunter whose negotiating style had never been seen before and whose skills were not believed to be of any value, seemed calmer and more rational than anyone else present, and possessed a rare patience and restraint.

"Your emperor has already talked too much. I'll give him half a minute at most. If he really wants to say so much, why doesn't he come over himself?"

Lan En scribbled on his memo with a quill pen, without looking up.

As the agenda has progressed, it's as if the Witcher, who used to sit in the Calanther chair, has become the host and facilitator.

"Please respect the Emperor's status, Duke Lann! I hereby solemnly protest..."

"Give me a break, Your Excellency Oyestalan. If I truly disrespected him, I would simply address him by his name. Do you expect me to do that? In front of so many kings?"

The ambassador then skillfully backed down, as if his previous indignation had been nothing but an illusion.

“On the contrary, I have something to say,” Lann said, then went a step further, “I’ve only mentioned it a few times in passing. Perhaps it was out of fear, fear that it would cause us to argue and slow down the meeting.” “But now, it’s time to overcome that fear. It won’t disappear on its own even if we don’t bring it up.”

At this point, everyone at the negotiating table became serious and looked at the Witcher who had looked up.

They also knew what to talk about at this point.

“Indeed,” Foltest said, “it’s time we talked about the Sintra problem. The successor to the country, the successor to Calanther. It’s a complicated matter, but I believe we can resolve it.”

As they spoke, the King of Temuria, and indeed all the northern kings at this negotiating table, turned their gaze to the head seat at the round table.

Their meaning is self-evident.

Lan En had no intention of keeping the matter hidden any longer.

“I will become the trustee of Sintra.” Lann met the gazes of everyone at the table.

"As a duke?" Oyestalan smiled, a hint of sarcasm in his eyes. "That's probably a bit... inappropriate from a legal standpoint. You are indeed the rightful grand duke, Your Excellency. But if you're to bring Cintra under your control, then His Majesty the Nilfgaardian Emperor, who is currently protecting your queen, might find it difficult to ignore."

"Furthermore, has the royal family declared that Sintra will be downgraded to a duchy?"

Lan En merely glanced at him before continuing to scribble and draw on the meeting agenda and memos without even looking up.

Instead, the Ember Knights behind him stared expressionlessly at the ambassador from the Southern Empire.

The leader was the rising star, the "Ember Scribe" Lincoln. Every time his finger touched the hilt of his sword, even though Oyestalan was confident that nothing could happen at this moment, he still felt a chill run down his spine.

"Don't play dumb. I'm talking to you openly and honestly, so you'd better be open and honest with me too."

Lan signed a document and handed it to Lincoln behind him for filing.

The negotiating table was huge, but the atmosphere there was more like that of his office desk.

“I do not claim sovereignty over Sintra; I merely act as a duke in charge of the territory. If you follow custom, you may also call this position the Regent.”

“But I must reiterate, the rightful heir to Sintra is in the Golden Tower City, and he is already of age! There is no need for the Duke to act as regent in Sintra…”

“Then let her come.” The Witcher’s calm and composed voice cut through the Nilfgaardian ambassador’s impassioned speech like a knife. “Apart from Prince Christine, no one here has ever seen Cirira’s true face. But coincidentally, I have.”

"Since you say that Cirira is of age and all is well, then let her return to Sintra to ascend the throne. Is there any problem with that?"

Prince Vidon, who was originally a nobody here, gained recognition after these words. He nodded to Lann and then turned to the ambassador to confirm that his statement was correct.

“I’m afraid that won’t work now, my lord,” Oyestalan replied methodically. “Princess Shireira is a guest. She spends her days in the garden with His Majesty the Emperor. They are always together and very polite.”

The ambassador's words hinted at a problem, one that the northern kings considered very pessimistic: what if Nilfgaard got Cirella and she gave birth to an heir?
Oyestaland's diplomatic career allowed him to easily find and grasp the crux of the problem.

But the ambassador, who was momentarily pleased with himself and somewhat smug about his move, suddenly found the negotiating table completely silent.

The northern kings, who should have been extremely worried about this issue, did not become hysterical, nor did they feign composure, nor did they even whisper among themselves.

In the vast throne room, one could now hear the sound of the wind flowing through the cracks in the windows.

“Oyestairan,” Lann’s voice broke the silence, still calm and composed.

But when the ambassador met his eyes as he looked up from the documents, he unconsciously kept swallowing.

“Tell me,” the Witcher said softly, “is Emhyr var Enris still in his right mind?”

The Nilfgaardian Emperor's full name was spoken disrespectfully, but at this moment, even as the Imperial Ambassador, he had a duty to uphold the Empire's dignity.

Oyestralan also wisely demonstrated his understanding once again.

"Your Majesty... everything is well, my lord."

"Then I'll assume that your stupid remark was just a momentary lapse of judgment and it won't be recorded in the meeting minutes, how about that?"

"My lord! I am extremely grateful for this!"

"No need for thanks, let's just finish this business quickly." Lan En lowered his head again to write and draw, and the atmosphere in the throne room returned to normal.

(End of this chapter)