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Chapter 800  Meeting

Inside the Zelvora mental network, an oppressive silence hung over the gathered representatives around the meeting table. The events of the day had left them all stunned, their minds racing with the implications of what had transpired. These were not just any representatives—they were the ones who had signed off on the agreements, the architects of their civilizations’ participation in this contest.

Now, they were confronted with the brutal outcome of their decisions.

Many representatives sat deep in thought, their faces betraying various degrees of fear, frustration, and resignation. Those who hailed from civilizations steeped in selfish political traditions knew all too well the grim truth: scapegoats would be needed. Someone would have to bear the brunt of the blame for the humiliation, anger, and setbacks their civilizations had suffered.

For many of them, the path forward seemed bleak. In the best-case scenario, they might lose their positions, exiled from the corridors of power. But for others, especially those from societies where failure was tantamount to treason, the specter of execution loomed large. The knowledge weighed heavily on their minds, and though no words were spoken, the shared sense of dread permeated the room.

They knew their fates would be decided not by reason but by the need for a narrative. The citizens of their worlds would demand justice, a way to cope with the embarrassment and anger. Sacrificing those in the room was the simplest way to redirect that fury and shield the true leadership from scrutiny.

Yet, even within this dynamic, exceptions existed.

The Zelvora

For the Zelvora, the question of blame was moot. Their advanced mental network provided unparalleled transparency, allowing them to trace every decision back to its origin. The collective process ensured that major strategies were crafted through rigorous evaluation and refinement, leaving little room for individual error. The unexpected result of today’s events was viewed as a force majeure—an outcome stemming from unforeseen variables rather than poor planning.

The Zelvora’s ability to approach challenges collectively and rationally shielded them from the need to scapegoat. Their culture thrived on accountability through understanding, making them uniquely resilient in situations that would fracture others.

The Xor’Vak

For the Xor’Vak, their unique situation offered a similar form of immunity. The controversial decision to surrender without contest had been made directly by their Grand Elder, the leader of their entire race. As such, any attempt to assign blame would inherently challenge the authority of their supreme leader—a notion that was unthinkable for most. No one who valued their life or standing would dare criticize the Grand Elder’s decree, no matter how contentious. Moreover, the lack of an actual battle removed the burden of personal failure from the Xor’Vak participants.

The Valthorins

The Valthorins, by contrast, faced a more rigid predicament despite their own Pride Nexus, a communal network of sorts that linked their people. Unlike the Zelvora, the Valthorins’ network was deeply intertwined with their culture of individual accountability and honor. Failures of this magnitude demanded tangible reparations. All those involved in crafting the strategy leading to the loss were expected to take actions to redeem their honor—be it through sacrifice, personal quests, or other means deemed worthy.

To shirk this responsibility would invite catastrophic consequences, including the loss of position, family ties, and societal standing. For the Valthorins, redemption wasn’t optional; it was a necessity for survival in their pride-bound culture.

Across the room, these differing cultural responses underscored the vast diversity of the gathered civilizations. Yet, all shared a common thread: the need to address the consequences of their failure, each in their own way. The weight of today’s events would ripple outward, altering trajectories, alliances, and power balances for years to come.

As for the civilizations that hadn’t sent fighters, their representatives maintained an uneasy silence. Speaking out could draw unwanted attention or provoke an official looking for someone to blame or vent their frustration upon. These representatives knew well that becoming a convenient target in such volatile circumstances could be their undoing. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Internally, however, they felt an immense wave of relief. By choosing not to participate, they had avoided the catastrophic losses and humiliation suffered by those who had sent their champions into the fray. In their minds, this decision now seemed farsighted, a stroke of wisdom that had spared their civilizations from the fallout of the disaster.

Yet, they dared not express their relief openly. Celebrating their restraint in front of the top ten civilizations—the ones who bore the brunt of the debacle—would be tantamount to suicide. The largest losers in this ordeal were simmering with anger, humiliation, and frustration. To flaunt even the slightest hint of satisfaction or relief would only invite their wrath.

“There is no merit in wasting time lamenting what has already transpired. We must focus on what lies ahead,” Liasas said, her voice cutting through the silence of the mental network meeting room like a blade. “We need to vote on whether to ratify the results of the deal and honor our agreement with the Terran Empire or attempt to renegotiate.” Her words served as a stark reminder of the purpose of this post-fight meeting, one that none present had dared to avoid.

Her statement drew every representative\'s gaze toward her projection. Despite the sudden intensity of attention, Liasas stood unfazed.

Without pausing, she continued. “The mana oath is already active. Even if we were to accept the immense backlash of breaking it, we would risk losing access to mana stones. They’ve demonstrated they have an abundance of those, given how many they expended to tilt the battlefield in their emperor’s favor. Furthermore, we remain ignorant of the full scope and limitations of the runic contract we signed. It resides in our very souls, and breaking it might unleash consequences we can’t predict or mitigate.”

At the mention of the Terran Empire’s strategic use of mana stones to provide their emperor with an advantage, the Trinarian fighter’s projection briefly shifted its gaze toward her. But Liasas ignored the subtle challenge and pressed on. “Even with our current disadvantage due to the outcome of the fight, the agreement ensures continued access to mana stones. Let us not forget this was the primary reason we heeded Xalthar’s call for aid in the first place.”

The representative of the Xor’Vak didn’t even allow the echo of her words to be heard by everyone as he spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically buoyant. “We will honor our part of the agreement,” he said. No one was surprised by his enthusiasm. For the Xor’Vak, Princess Seraphina’s surrender had effectively resolved a persistent issue without further conflict as he was one of the Xor’Vak not in her faction which meant a purge should she come to power by defeating the Grand Xor’Vak.

One by one, the other representatives began raising their hands, signifying their agreement to uphold the deal. For many, Liasas’ reminder of the mana stones reinvigorated their resolve. The importance of mana stones within the Astral Conclave was undeniable; they powered advanced technologies across the higher civilizations. To lose access to such a resource would be catastrophic, while retaining it could mitigate the backlash they faced—or, in some cases, erase it entirely.

Though the atmosphere remained tense, the vote signaled a collective decision to move forward. Each representative silently hoped that the mana stones gained would outweigh the heavy losses suffered in the ordeal.

“With unanimous votes, we will honor the agreement with the Terran Empire,” Liasas declared, her voice firm and authoritative. “You all have one week, based on Terran Empire time, to prepare everything required for the provisions stipulated in the deal. On that day, we will meet with Emperor Aron Michael in person to deliver these items and to discuss his additional demands, which will require votes within the Astral Conclave Council to proceed.”

Her words were met with silent acknowledgment from all representatives. Once she was certain that her statement had been absorbed, Liasas brought the meeting to a close. One by one, the participants exited the Zelvora mental network, leaving behind the shared space that had served as their meeting room.

Notably absent from the discussion was the "giant elephant in the room"—Emperor Aron Michael himself. The representatives refrained from broaching the topic, despite the profound implications of his actions. While they outwardly displayed a semblance of unity, everyone in the room knew it was superficial, born of temporary alignment in their interests rather than any real cohesion.

Each civilization had its own perspective on how to address the Terran Emperor. Factors like their relative strength within the Conclave, cultural values, and internal politics made a collective strategy impractical at this stage. Any discussions about how to deal with him would occur within their individual spheres of influence, far removed from the glare of inter-civilizational scrutiny. For now, those conversations remained on hold, overshadowed by the immediate necessity of fulfilling their obligations under the deal.