Session 20240523 Treaty Negotiations
General Summary
Bertrum's Journal
Dear Journal,
Upon the island's serene shores, amidst the placid waters of the lake, we didst convene with the Linowan delegation, their visages obscured by wooden animal masks, each carving a mystery unto itself. This diplomatic ballet, intended to forge alliances betwixt Linowan, Halta, and our own cause, did reveal a grievous contention: the Linowan propensity to raid Halta’s sacred redwood groves. A quandary, most vexing, as it threatened to rend our nascent coalition asunder.
With a heart full of resolve, I did declare that the cessation of such raids was imperative and non-negotiable, lest the spectre of war reawaken. Alas, my forthrightness was met with ire, an almost supernatural hostility transforming their countenances. Sensing an unseen hand at play, I donned mine essence-sensing goggles, yet discerned naught save the faint magic of their masks.
Calmness, a fragile dove amidst a storm, returned to our parley. But Attila, his spirit yet aflame with the megalomaniacal fervour of his "Glory to the Most High" charm, did suspect the masks themselves as the puppeteers of our strife. With a flash of fiery chakram, he severed the ribbons binding the masks to their faces.
Their masks fell, revealing not clarity but an even fiercer war stance, as though a spell had been cast. With great effort, I did temper the rising storm, yet my heart was heavy with the suspicion of Huzuwa’s spectral hand guiding these events. We pondered if Huzuwa, with her Sidereal powers, did sow this discord amongst us.
The root of our discord lay in Linowan’s valorisation of their warlords' raiding feats. Attila, in a flash of past life remembrance, didst recall that he himself, in a former Solar incarnation, had imbued the Linowans with the very ability to switch from peace to war as easily as a man might draw breath. His insight was clear: steer them from conflict and competition, and they remain docile; provoke them, and they ignite.
Attila, his demeanour still overbearing, did leave the negotiations to demonstrate his prowess, inadvertently affronting the Linowan soldiers. Nightshade, with grace and guile, endeavoured to redirect his boasts to feats of arms. When all seemed nigh to failure, she did administer a sleeping draught, allowing him respite from his charm’s lingering effects.
I then invoked the "Whirlwind of Fate," crafting a treaty I believed just and equitable. With every stroke of the quill, destiny’s threads did weave a tapestry of hope, binding our fates together in peace. Yet, it remains with the Linowans to present our treaty and the Bull of the North’s letter to their Queen, to sway her heart to our cause.
As the sun set over the tranquil waters, I reflected upon our endeavours. We have done all within our power. Now, we await the Queen's judgment, hoping that our efforts shall bear the fruit of alliance and stave off the horrors of war.
Thus ends this entry in the annals of my journey. May fortune favour our cause and may peace, at long last, prevail.
Yours in eternal vigilance,
Bertrum Blumenthal