Chapter 142: Failed Negotiation.

Lysha is called to the meeting room. Yesterday the talks weren't favorable to them, but that's to be expected given how the Runalymo has trade advantage. However, she didn't expect the Runalymo to not understand the concept of taxes. Lysha takes her seat, and Vulpun joins them soon after.

"What do you two think?" Lysha's father asks.

Lysha holds her opinion, letting the Order of Flame's Headmaster speak first.

"I think we give her the tariff exemption and try to argue for exclusive trade with Vocana. It's best for us to secure that so they don't trade with others, especially our enemies."

"Lysha?" Her father asks.

"I agree," she replies. "It's best for our war efforts to deny our enemy resources, even if it costs us."

"Then we all are in agreement," her father says. "Now onto the next thing on the agenda, the Leviathan materials. Opinions?"

"It is a risk to let them craft weapons and armor: they can just steal them easily, and we won't be able to do anything about it," Vulpun says, frowning.

"Indeed, this could all be a ruse, since they know about it," Lysha chimes in. "However, I don't think they will do that; that plan would hinge on us communicating with them like we did, which is something nobody expected. Also, they wouldn't fight so hard with trade if they were never going to uphold the deal."

"You think they have honor?" her father asks, genuinely curious.

"Yes," Lysha answers firmly. "Alysara probably can’t be used to judge all of them, but she seemed to genuinely care about the people. And you saw how her personas changed, but she sometimes let her real persona leak through?"

"I noticed that too," Vulpun says. "Spies should be well-trained in persona skills, so they never slip like that; they craft a narrative, a whole new person. But it seems as if she was simply using the skill for its persona instincts; it's still her, not another person, a sign that she is not as well-trained as we thought."

"I see…” Lysha’s father murmurs thoughtfully, then continues; “What kind of arguments can we expect from her about this deal?"

"They'll likely want to keep some of the materials as payment," Vulpun suggests. "They don't need to steal it if they get some anyway."

"I agree with that assessment," Lysha's father says. "It's the most likely case, although we really don't know what else they may want. So what should be our limit?"

"We need to equip thousands of soldiers with armor and weapons made from those materials…" Lysha says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms in thought. "...one in ten? Maybe one in fifteen? Even then, that's a lot that will be going to them, and these are very rare materials even if we have a lot right now."

"How many soldiers can we expect to outfit with these materials?" Lysha's father asks, although she’s reasonably certain he already knows the answer.

"About ten thousand," Lysha answers. The Leviathan was the size of an island, after all, and its hide alone gives them a lot to work with. Then there's the bones and core, the teeth and eyes. All good materials to work with, all Exalted-tier.

"So they'd be getting seven hundred to a thousand completed sets worth of that just for their work, assuming they have enough craftsmen good enough to work them in time," Vulpun says. The Order of Flame has some, too, and they can loan their armor and weapons to the army if they don't need to use all of them.

"We could give them a set to make an example, and figure the price out from there?" Lysha suggests, still in her thinking pose.

"That either works well or backfires horrendously," her father says. "We can end up paying a lot more or less. Do you want to take that risk?"

Lysha thinks about it for a minute. Her father is right; it's a big gamble. They are only considering this deal because of the items Alysara has already given them; they know the skill of their best craftsman, and they will use him to get the best price.

"No, it's not a good idea," Lysha answers. "We'll try for one in twenty, but one in fifteen will be more realistic."

"Then let's call her in to discuss this."

Lysha's father calls for the butler to get Alysara; she enters a minute later and curtsies with unparalleled grace. It still annoys Lysha that this girl can do better what took her months of rigorous training with her etiquette teacher and years more of experience.

Lysha calms herself and tries to clear her mind.

"We have thought about your proposal since last we met, and we have agreed to your terms of no tariffs. However, we only agree to it if you exclusively trade with our Republic," Lysha's father says.

Alysara thinks about it for several moments, adopting a thinking pose while somehow maintaining her elegance.

"It would be in our best interests if we trade with other nations," Alysara finally says. "Is your Republic so wealthy we cannot afford to go elsewhere? Perhaps the Forron Kingdom may give us a better deal." Alysara pauses to let her words sink in.

Lysha glances at her father and notices his gaze isn't drifting: he’s more worried about losing this trade deal – or rather, chasing her off to the Forron Kingdom.

"Here's a counteroffer," Alysara continues. "We'll be free to establish general trade with anybody, but we'll make the trade of weapons and armor exclusive to all of the Republic of Vocana, not just your city, in exchange for no tariffs with the entire Republic as well."

The atmosphere grows a little heavy, her father's gaze entirely focused.

"We cannot speak for the other cities," he says.

"But you expect us to only trade with your Republic even if we haven't established trade with the other cities? That isn't fair. They can impose high tariffs and unfavorable deals on us, knowing we can only go to them."

She's right; it's unreasonable to expect exclusivity for only those ruled by Vocana's council when not everybody is in on the deal.

Father may have tried to trap her, but she saw right through it; this does not look good and loses her goodwill.

Her father cannot accept that counteroffer, not without the agreement of the entire council. His leg bounces as he tries to think of a way out. Lysha wracks her brain for any way to bail her father out of this mess, when Vulpun speaks up.

"You're entirely right; it wouldn't be fair of us, so let's make a short-term deal until we can properly speak with the council and make a decision."

"What do you propose?" Alysara asks.

"For one month, no tariffs and no other restrictions as long as you do not trade weapons and armor with anyone," Vulpun says.

Just an agreement to not deal in weapons and armor; that is the main point anyway, they cannot afford the Forren Kingdom getting those.

Alysara thinks about it for a minute, then two minutes, then three, letting the uncomfortable silence press down on them.

"I... do not agree to these terms."

Alysara's announcement shocks everyone. Why won't she agree?! It's just a one-month deal!

"If that's all you have to offer, then I think we are done here for today." Alysara curtsies with infuriating grace and turns to walk out.

Lysha's mind races to grasp at anything she can to at least keep Alysara in the room and listening.

"Six months! And protection guarantee of your people!" Vulpun stands up and calls after her, but she doesn't even hesitate before leaving the room.

"Fuuuuuck," her father mutters beside her, face buried in his hands. They were so close to securing a deal, but there's no possible way he can accept a deal on behalf of the other cities.

"Won't even agree to a temporary deal..." Vulpun slumps back in his chair. "Is there any way we can salvage this?"

"Not without knowing more about them and what they want," Lysha's father says, head still in his hands.

"Why did you try to trap her like that?" Vulpun asks. "That was incredibly risky, and it didn't pay off."

Lysha's father sighs.

"I didn't intend to. I didn't consider her point of view when I proposed that… In hindsight, I should have given it more thought."

"That was a very costly blunder; if we can salvage this at all, it's going to cost us."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tusile was right; they will try to take as much as they can from us no matter how much it hurts us! Thankfully I had three minds in this negotiation to help figure out the trap, but the true MVP is [Inquisitive Perfection] for putting it all together.

As for the temporary trade offers, the airship is at least a year away from completion; it doesn't matter how good the deal was if we can't ever take advantage of it.

I should focus my efforts on trade deals with other places; the snow kingdom in the south, as well as the independent city-states. But, while I am here, I may as well introduce the Runalymo to the other cities. I have a year to build relations with all of the factions, so I should start doing that and not get hasty and rush into deals.

"May I get some blank paper and an envelope?" I ask the butler once I enter the waiting room.

"Of course," he bows and leaves the room, returning quickly with writing supplies.

Normally I'd weave a mana silk letter, but I can't operate my [Mana Manipulation] this far from my real location. Ruluna taught me their letters when teaching me their language, but I can't say I am fluent in their writing.

From Ambassador Alysara of the Runalymo:

I call myself Ambassador even though the Runalymo technically don't have such a job, but it's the most fitting title I can give myself in this case.

While our cultural differences may make finding common ground in establishing a trade deal difficult, we still seek to improve our relations. I feel that we may have been in too much of a rush to make a deal, when we should have instead spent this time learning about each other. I propose we take a step back and do this properly at a time and place where all of Vocana can meet with me.

I have to return to my home, but I will be back on the first of the next month; I hope I can meet all interested parties in the days following my next arrival.

I fold up the letter and put it in the envelope, handing it to the butler.

"Give this to your governor, Vanu Runa Orlan," I tell him.

"At once." He bows and walks out the room.

My mana is running very low, and I won't be able to maintain my clone for more than a few more hours. So what should I do in that time? I still have this storage ring, and I won't be able to bring it back with me, so I might as well do some good and sell it for charity; I'm sure the local orphanage can make good use of the money.

I walk out of the luxurious hall and into the street. Being in the high society part of the city, I should be able to get my money's worth for the ring.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Leala walks through the orphanage garden, colorful plants healthily sprouting high due to her tender care. The flowers greet her. No one else can hear them, but Leala can; the [Plant Whisperer] skill that she recently obtained with her Class lets her communicate perfectly with the plants around her.

"Leala! The morning rain was wonderful today; you should have been there to enjoy it with us!" An orange flower says... or rather it sent that impression to her, the plants don't actually speak words.

"Leala, a beetle is nibbling on my lowermost leaf and my toxins are not driving it away. Can you please help me?" A bright blue flower calls.

Naturally, she plucks the beetle and flicks it away. These plants are nice, unlike the wild ones who, at best, treat her with indifference. It proves her point that plants raised in good care become caring and kind creatures.

Leala continues to tend to her garden until she sees someone approach: an older girl with beautiful blue hair with golden tips, her three incredibly long tails swaying gracefully behind her as she walks with serenity and nobility.

She turns her head to Leala and smiles warmly. Her eyewraps hide her eyes, making Leala wonder how she doesn't walk into things, but she remembers that the older girl probably has a skill for that.

Curious, Leala walks closer as the older girl knocks on the front door.

"Coming!" Mother Fale shouts from inside. A moment later, she opens the door to this older girl, then blinks and perks up her ears in surprise. "Umm, w-what bring you here, miss..." Mother Fale stammers.

"Alysara." The older girl introduces herself. "I'm here to make a donation." She opens her hand and reveals several silver and copper coins.

"This is quite a lot!" Mother Fale expresses; she looks at the older girl and her expensive-looking and well-decorated dress, and takes the money. "Thank you for your generosity, Miss Alysara!" She says with a respectful curtsy.

"My pleasure," Alysara says and curtseys gracefully, before two beautiful mosaic-patterned wings sprout from her back, and she flies away, fading into nothing.

The whole thing leaves both Leala and mother Fale speechless. One day, Leala wants to be like her!