233. The Treaty of Red Encirclement

The council was heavy with exhaustion and the faint tang of melted wax. Dozens of light flowers had burned low, their light trembling over ink-stained documents and hollow-eyed councilmen who had not left their seats in nearly a day. Papers covered every inch of the long oak table, stamped with seals of crimson and gold, the ink still glistening from fresh signatures.“So you will take the freed slaves?” Councilman Nathan asked, rubbing his temples as he glanced at the towering pile of signed accords. His voice was hoarse, worn thin from endless debate.

Ravenna, seated at the head of the table, crossed one leg over the other with leisurely grace. The slit of her gown caught the faint light, her divine mark still glimmering faintly against her skin. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I don’t see a problem with that, do you? Those who buy their own freedom often find themselves adrift, unwanted, unemployed, unprotected in Otto City right? Kim City can give them what Otto cannot: purpose.”

Councilman Nathan nodded, exchanging glances with the other council members. “No objection,” he admitted at last. “We’ll establish a program to let freed slaves apply for migration to the Kim Dukedom. We’ve been struggling to place them for years anyway. If your city can take them, it’s a blessing for both sides.”

“Then it’s settled,” Ravenna said, smiling faintly as she picked up her pen again. Her penmanship was immaculate, each stroke deliberate and steady despite the long hours.

Across from her, Marie barely stifled a yawn. She had been trying to keep up for hours, her head resting on her palm as she stared at the mountain of parchment that still remained. “Master… do you ever get tired of signing your name?” she mumbled under her breath.

Ravenna didn’t even look up. “Not when every signature changes the course of people’s lives.”

Marie sighed, sitting up a little straighter as Hughes stifled a chuckle beside her.

It had been a grueling day, negotiations that stretched from dawn to dusk, arguments flaring and fading, translators struggling to keep pace as Hilde and Ancornan tongues tangled across the hall. Ravenna had given no one the luxury of delay. Either the treaty would be signed today, or not at all.

And the council, weary though they were, understood. Time was their enemy. If they did not finalize the alliance tonight, Bolita’s warships would soon darken the horizon, the Conley Empire’s banners would rise over their docks, and the Hercule Crime Syndicate would devour their markets from within. Otto City had no more days to spare.

Ravenna’s pen struck the parchment one final time. “And with this,” she said, setting the pen aside and pressing her signet into the wax, “the Treaty of Red Encirclement is complete.”

A hush fell over the chamber. Even the flickering lights seemed to pause.

“I will have Kim City’s fleet arrive within a week,” she continued, her tone firm but elegant. “By then, the border regions we agreed upon should be cleared or their residents must apply for Kim City citizenship. The accords must take effect the moment they are announced. Delay is death.”

One of the councilwomen nodded, her voice faint but resolute. “Agreed. Bolita cannot be allowed even a day to reassess or retaliate. The announcement will be made at dawn tomorrow.”

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“Good.” Ravenna stood, the movement fluid and commanding. “Then, councilmen and councilwomen, I’ll be taking my leave. My ship departs at first light for Kim City. Any further inquiries or disputes will be handled by my representative here: Kenric Jade.”

At the mention of his name, Kenric stepped forward, bowing slightly as the council’s eyes turned toward him.

Ravenna adjusted her wool gown and turned toward the exit, her knights rising immediately to follow. Marie stretched her arms and muttered something about wanting a proper bed, while Hughes gave her a patient look before falling into step beside Ravenna.

As the heavy doors shut behind them, the exhausted council sat in silence for several moments, listening to the sound of her heels fade into the distance.

Councilman Nathan finally broke the quiet, exhaling a slow breath. “Goddess preserve us,” he murmured. “That woman doesn’t negotiate… she conquers.”

Few Hours Later in one of the Shipyards of Councilwomen Juliana, Otto City, Free Cities, Southern Islands, Eastern Continent

The night had settled heavily over Otto City, but the harbor never slept. The shipyard sprawled along the waterfront like a restless beast, its chimneys exhaling plumes of violet-tinted steam from the enchanted forges, the rhythmic clang of hammers ringing through the air as if it were midday. Mages wove spells to stabilize hulls and reinforce keels. Lanterns swung in the sea breeze, painting the shipyard in gold and shadow.

Councilwoman Juliana’s carriage rolled in through the main gate, its wheels crunching over frost-bitten gravel. Her posture sagged against the velvet seat, her exhaustion evident even beneath the rigid composure of a Councilwoman. The meeting with Ravenna Solarius had drained her utterly, the endless clauses, the signatures, the terrifying charisma of that woman. Still, duty outweighed fatigue, and she had one final task to complete before she could collapse into her bed.

The moment the carriage stopped, she stepped down, wrapping her cloak tighter against the cold wind that came off the sea. Her heels clicked across the planks as she strode through the bustling yard, past rows of merchant ships gleaming with fresh lacquer, workers hauling crates of iron fittings, and dockhands shouting orders in Hilde and many languages alike. The scent of oil, salt, and burnt wood clung to the air.

Her destination was a small stone office tucked in the far corner of the yard, the ledger keeper’s den. The room was lit by a single enchanted lantern that flickered with blue light. She knocked sharply on the wooden door.

It creaked open, revealing a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his right eye. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, his hands still smudged with ink and soot. “Ah, Madam Juliana,” he greeted with a respectful bow of his head. “What brings you here at this hour? The men are finishing the night’s last rounds.”

Juliana exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ve just come from a council meeting. I signed a contract to provide forty merchant vessels to a.. foreign princess. I wanted to make sure the ships are ready for delivery first thing in the morning.”

The man blinked, his expression tightening. “Madam,” he began cautiously, “the foreign princess already took the ships.” ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel-fire.ɴet

Juliana froze. “What?”

He motioned her inside, pulling a document from his desk and laying it before her. The wax seal bore her own insignia. “She presented this receipt about an hour ago,” he explained. “Your signature, your seal, everything checked out. I had no reason to doubt its authenticity. She said the matter was urgent and ordered immediate transfer. Before I could even send for confirmation, her men were already preparing.”

Juliana’s brows furrowed. “That’s impossible. Even with all my signatures, loading forty ships should’ve taken hours. They’re moored in Dock Six, aren’t they?”

The man gestured toward the window overlooking the vast harbor. “They were. But… they’re gone.”

She rushed to the window. Where once an entire fleet had rested, the docks now lay eerily empty. Only the faint shimmer of residual dust floated above the water like mist, marking where the ships had been. The sea itself seemed disturbed, still rippling in concentric waves that hadn’t yet settled.

Juliana turned, her voice rising in disbelief. “Are you telling me she moved forty ships in a single hour? Without even setting sail!?”