Chapter 798: Pre conference(2)
Alpheo looked down at his dinner plate, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought to keep a snort of disgust from surfacing on his face.
Gods above... I miss my cook.
He had spent weeks drilling that poor man to elevate himself above the greasy stews and overly peppered meat, that seemed to sustain the whole Yarzat court.
And it had paid off magnificently. The court now dined on dishes so finely tuned that nobles had started referring to the new style as the Yarzat Palate. Even the Boy Emperor himself, had licked his fingers after sampling the dishes he had him taste and sent his cooks to learn from Alpheo’s.
That had been the true triumph. For cuisine was never just cuisine, it was prestige. To have one’s court’s flavors imitated, admired, and spoken of beyond one’s borders was as much a conquest as the capture of a fortress.
And now... this.
It wasn’t that Shaza’s cooks were utterly incompetent; the meal before him would have satisfied any noble. But after years of careful culinary cultivation, Alpheo’s stomach had grown accustomed to honey, anything less now felt like shit.
He chewed slowly, painfully aware that his face must remain serene. If I empty my stomach on the prince’s table, I doubt it will be seen as a compliment to his hospitality.
No, the food wasn’t the point. Not really. The point of this dinner wasn’t to savor dishes or toast wine.Even though that certainly tasted strange.
The real kick was the company.
And on that front, things weren’t much better either.
With Mesha’s polite refusal of the dinner, the table was left to just two men: Shaza and Alpheo.
The Fox had half expected to at least be introduced to the princess and her three-year-old son. But Shaza kept them tucked away, presenting only himself.
On the surface, the prince’s face was a mask of neutrality, lips fixed in a courteous line, eyes offering nothing but polite attentiveness. Yet the refusal of the Emperor still lingered in the air. To anyone with half a wit, the meaning had been plain enough: Mesha had declined in order to lend his weight to Alpheo. Whatever bargains Shaza had hoped to fish from the Emperor directly would now have to be made possible only by making a deal with the man sitting across from him.
And as for Shaza himself? Well, he was not the picture of the warrior prince one might expect. He carried no intimidating presence, no scars or hardened muscle to give him the air of a man bred for the battlefield. Instead, his figure tended toward the soft, his belly pushing slightly against his sash, his moustache curled and groomed with almost excessive care. Coupled with the silks and jewels of his attire, he could easily have been mistaken for a wealthy merchant or banker, had he not worn a crown.
Still, Alpheo was not so naive as to judge a man’s steel by his stomach. A warrior’s worth was not only in the swing of a sword. Influence, wealth, cunning, and the loyalty of one’s soldiers could prove sharper than any blade. Even so, looking at Shaza now, Alpheo could not help but note that he was no warlord.
Alpheo himself, of course, was no brute either. His frame was lean rather than hulking, built by regular training but hardly resembling the musclebound companion he had at his side at all time .
He led from behind the shieldwall, not inside it. And in truth, that was as it should be, generals were not supposed to fight like common soldiers, unless dire necessity forced them to. A general’s task was to think, to guide, to win by wit and position rather than by the cut of his blade.
And judging by Shaza’s soft and plump figure and elegant affectations, Alpheo suspected that if matters ever came to open battle, the prince across the table would be of little concern.
"I had hoped," Alpheo began, after the silence had stretched just long enough to feel uncomfortable, "that I might have the honor of meeting your lady wife and your son. A table always feels too bare without family gracing it."
Shaza’s moustache twitched faintly at the corner, though his eyes remained flat. "And what would have been the use? Had they come, I would have had to send them away the moment you began speaking of...whatever matter clearly lies heavy on your tongue. Hardly a courtesy to them. Still, if you truly wish it, I would gladly arrange another evening with my household present, provided, of course, that what passes between us here tonight ends well."
Alpheo forced himself to smile, though he found the response more cutting than clever. "Then at the very least, Your Grace, allow me to extend my congratulations on your son. I know well how long you strove for such a blessing."
"Indeed," Shaza replied smoothly, swirling his wine before taking a measured sip. His gaze flicked up with something close to amusement and a small smile. "Though it seems in the meantime you’ve been busy with it yourself."
Now that was just vulgar
For a heartbeat Alpheo felt the sting rise, the retort press against his teeth. But he caught himself, breathing it down, biting the inside of his cheek until the temptation passed.
He exhaled through his nose, forcing the frustration into a sigh instead of an insult. "I see," he said with studied calm, "that Your Grace is not much inclined toward idle courtesies this evening. Shall we then dispense with the pleasantries altogether? Do you wish to move to the substance of our talk, or would you prefer another serving first?"
I am sure it would go down easily to that fucking round belly, you fat shit....
Shaza chuckled lightly, as if he could hear the meaning behind the world, and as though the beef no longer merited his attention.
He dabbed his lips with a napkin and reached for his goblet, washing his mouth with wine before speaking. "We may as well proceed. His Imperial Majesty saw fit to decline my invitation and entertaining me alone with you... which makes me think the business you bring must carry a certain weight. It would be remiss of me not to hear it."
Alpheo studied him as the words left his lips. The tone was mild, the gesture unharried.
The prince of Sharjaan was clearly trying to play at nonchalance, lounging behind his wine as though this were all a trifling diversion.
Look at this fat fuck, picking at scraps and pretending not to be hungry, Alpheo thought grimly. He wanted to shout it aloud and shit on his plate, considering the little courtesy he had showed today. But he held his tongue. For if he shattered the game now, there would be no agreement, no leverage, and no path forward.
So he smoothed his features into polite attentiveness, swallowed the bile of his thoughts, and prepared to begin the real game at last.
"Before we turn to particulars," Alpheo began, leaning forward with his goblet in hand "it seems only fitting to note that now we are neighbors, Your Grace, and neighbors must strive toward mutual understanding. I would not see our borders poisoned at their birth."
Shaza’s moustache twitched faintly as he replied. "A fine sentiment. But perhaps it is too soon to speak of peace and friendship. After all, who can say whether this conference will have you spitting out what you have so eagerly stuffed into your mouth?Maybe by the end of it, we will be neighbors no more..."
Alpheo smiled thinly, as if humoring a jest. "That would be rather difficult, I think. The terms to be discussed lie in what Sorza must yield to me for peace, not the opposite. Surely it is plain enough to any eye that I hold the winning hand in this war...do I not?"
"Whether you win or not matters little if every other prince stands against you. A hand may hold cards, but if the table itself turns, even a king can be swept away."
"Then it seems," he said lightly, "that I and His Majesty will need to be more eloquent than ever. And we shall be. You may be certain of this: by the time the conference closes, I will still be your neighbor.
A pinch of courtesy now, Your Grace, would do neither of us harm. Though I sincerely hope you do not extend the same tone to the Emperor tomorrow. He is not quite so forgiving as I. The Shepherd of the Faith, after all, has a habit of correcting small infractions with great severity."
Shaza shifted, a flicker of unease ghosting across his merchant-like features. He masked it quickly, lifting his goblet in a half-toast. "Then let us begin with courtesies indeed. For if good relations are to be born, the first sources of tension must be pruned away. Still, I suspect we shall come to those in due course. What interests me most at present..." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "...is how you managed to draw so august an ally into your camp. When I first saw the banner of the Eagle riding at your side, I confess my surprise was considerable. I daresay the other princes’ envoys will be even more astonished."
Alpheo reclined slightly, letting the prince’s words wash over him. His fingers tapped once against the stem of his goblet. "No doubt they thought me alone," he said softly.
"As did I," Shaza admitted.
"Then I trust their surprise will be pleasant. For when such august presence blesses our gathering, it makes certain that what emerges is not merely peace, but a just peace. "
The prince of Sharjaan fixed him with a sharp stare. "Yet you have still not told me how. How did you lure the Eagle into your nest?"
"There was no trick, no coin, no cage," he said at last. "What bound Romelia to me was something far simpler. I have long cultivated amity with the imperial court, as any wise prince should. We have exchanged letters, goods, counsel, small things, perhaps, but steady things. So when I placed before them the vision of a noble endeavor, the prospect of ending a war that drains us all, how could they not answer? It came as natural as breath."
He said it smoothly, concealing the truth, that he and the Eagle were no mere collaborators, but full-fledged allies.
This was a game of card and surely Alpheo did not mean to show what he had, especially since revealing the truth may have the opposite effect and alienate the only possible other ally he could have in the conference.
"I see," Shaza murmured at last, though the weight behind his tone made it plain he did not believe a single word of it.
"It is clear, Your Grace, that you are eager to make something of this evening, so by all means, make it worth the both of us. Yet..." He leaned forward, folding his hands, his voice dropping into something more pointed. "I suspect I already hold half a notion of what it is you wish to put upon the table. The real question, therefore, is not what we shall discuss, but whether you are truly willing to part with what is yours in order to see it through.
I already know the wares, all we have to discuss is the price."