Convincing the Tsun Dzan School to join the negotiations was an easy task.

“They attacked us? Mou Dang attacked us?” The Head Scholar of Tsun Dzan was a small and neat but fussy-looking man named Baak Tsau Saa. He looked up incredulously at Gaam Yuk Ying and Yuen Muk while nervously adjusting his hat. “Did they thinking we were pretending to have not picked a side?"

Gaam Yuk Ying looked out over the School. It stood on a high hill, overlooking the eastern ocean with a sheer drop down to the water. Plains of silvergrass stretched towards the west, glowing in the afternoon light. In the distance, the looming presence of Tsaam Lam, at the border of Sek’seun and Dzue, was clear on the horizon. "Strategic location."

“That’s probably the case,” Yuen Muk agreed. “Trying to maintain neutrality whilst hold one of the most useful positions, geographically? You’re lucky only Mou Dang came for you.”

“They probably thought they were enough,” Baak Tsau Saa said shakily. He aimlessly shuffled papers on his desk. “We’re only a small sect. Does Mount Faa promise to provide us protection during the negotiations?”

“We do. While we wait to hear of the response from the other parties, can I provide you with any assistance? I hear there were some injuries…”

Yuen Muk made himself useful in the infirmary while Gaam Yuk Ying wordlessly began helping repair damaged buildings. Wong Tang had resumed her human form, but had not entered the School. Instead, she sat on a practically imperceptible ledge on the cliff, gazing out to sea and smoking her pipe very slowly.

The School, which had a stronger focus on scholarly arts than many of the other Sects, had done well to hold out against Mou Dang for as long as they did, in part due to their location. The Mou Dang warriors it seemed, had decided to ration their strength and had not attempted to climb the sheer cliffside to the east. The defenders of Tsun Dzan School, mostly warriors hired to keep away mountain bandits, had only just managed to fend off the oncoming attack until the retreat was called. Only eight warriors had died, and one scholar who was unfortunate enough to not retreat to safety in time. Her body lay in the School’s tiny morgue, awaiting burial, while the scholars sought out a corpse-driver to take the warriors’ bodies back to their hometowns.

Watched with disbelief by the remaining warriors and the scholars of Tsun Dzan, Gaam Yuk Ying easily sliced his way through the tangle of fallen timbers, and righted metal posts that had been forcibly twisted during the Mou Dang attack. He examined a few of these with thoughtful silence, determined to ask for a spar with any of their Third Daan-tin disciples when he saw them again.

In the end, it was a week before the second round of negotiations could begin. Yuen Muk had returned to Mount Faa by the time the news arrived, and Gaam Yuk Ying was who-knows-where, either roaming the countryside searching for Teem Djeung Baak or picking fights with the Mou Dang disciples.

Once more, they found themselves at Ngo Mei. This time, the participants included the sects of Mount Faa, Mou Dang, Tsun Dzan, and Kwan Leon. The leaders of Sek’suen and Cheon, as well as the remaining sects, had refused to take part.

Newcomers in the form of delegates from Wong and Dzang had made an appearance, and Dzue Dziu Ming greeted them warmly. The head representative of Wong, was a dark-skinned, fierce-looking and sinewy man, wearing vibrant, earth-coloured robes with a symbol of a phoenix on the back. His people all wore daggers of various kinds and carried light bows that Chan Bik eyed with unbridled curiosity.

“Шиқылдақ,” he said, holding out both arms to Dzue Dziu Ming. The Dzue Regent returned the gesture, gripping the other man’s elbows.

“What was that?” Chan Bik asked Gong Lau Yan. “What did he say?”

“That’s how they greet each other,” she replied. “The younger person keeps their arms below the older person’s and supports their elbows. And he just gave his name.”

“Could… could we ask him to repeat it?”

He obliged with a white-toothed smile that seemed friendly enough. “Shikladak.”

The head delegate for Dzang was a pale-haired woman, although her skin was tanned and reddish-hued. She wore grey furs, and had heavily calloused hands and pale blue eyes that made everyone look again as she passed. The members of her delegation were grim-faced and carried an assortment of heavy bows and curved swords.

“مەست ئات,” she introduced herself, deigning to touch cheeks with Wong Tang and Gong Lau Yan, but simply staring at everyone else.

Chan Bik sighed deeply.

“Mest’at,” the woman repeatedly, more slowly, upon request. She looked down her nose as she did.

“She reminds me of someone,” Yuen Muk murmured in Gaam Yuk Ying’s ear. “Speaking of, where has Maan Dzi King gone? This is the sort of thing she’d love.”

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“She’s been promoted to Commander of the Third Head,” Gong Lau Yan muttered. “So she’s, unfortunately, stuck in the palace with the handover paperwork.”

“Unfortunate, huh?”

“Truly.”

Ngo Mei seemed to have made the most of Wong Tang’s landscaping. New staircases led up the recently raised mountainsides, mostly temporarily formed from wood, but with some sections painstakingly hewed into the iron-rich red basalt that had pushed up the temple.

The disciples of the Ngo Mei Sect brought small dishes of highly spicy and pickled foods, along with pots of an oolong tea that Dzue Dziu Ming seemed pleasantly surprised by.

“Tiet Gwun Yaam?”

“I should have known you would recognise it,” said Luk Si Yung, the Ngo Mei Grandmaster. She had remained quiet throughout the first round of discussions, but seemed gently determined to speak this time. “Certain people thought perhaps it would be too obscure a tea, but Your Majesty Dzue Dziu Ming has a deep understanding of his kingdom’s produce.”

“I happened to try it once,” Dzue Dziu Ming disclaimed. “Do you like it, Jade Exorcist?”

Gaam Yuk Ying had already finished a cup and was carefully sniffing his second.

“There’s a story behind this tea, did you know?” Dzue Dziu Ming continued, finishing his own cup as he addressed the room as a whole. Mest’at looked entirely disinterested, if not irritated, but everyone else seemed content to follow along with the Dzue Regent’s tangent. “Have you heard of the Immortal of Mercy, Gwun Yaam?”

“I have,” Cheng Baak-hap said. “They came from a country to the west of the Five Kingdoms. They performed many acts of mercy, and after Ascending, gained the ability to change appearance at will. For that reason, we don’t know whether they were originally a man or a woman or otherwise.”

She realised that Gaam Yuk Ying was staring at her with an outraged expression that was clearly questioning why he had never heard such a story before.

“The farmer who produces this tea says his family was on the brink of starvation, but the Immortal Gwun Yaam came to him in a dream and showed him where to harvest this particular tea,” Dzue Dziu Ming said. “I even got to see the plant myself. It’s a quite a petite plant.”

“What work were you trying to avoid that you went roaming around northern Dzue?” Gong Lau Yan asked drily.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was working, speaking to my subjects. Poor man, his only child had disappeared several months before and his back was playing up and-”

“You were playing up.”

“Is there some reason why you chose to serve us a Dzue tea, Grandmaster Luk?” Wong Tang asked bluntly.

Even Gaam Yuk Ying looked somewhat surprised at her rudeness.

But Grandmaster Luk hesitated.

“… We are… In honestly, we’re being a little frugal with our own produce, this season. Our farmlands may be small, but we’ve never had such a bad harvest.”

“How long has this been going for?”

“Only the last few months.”

“Has the weather not been good here?” Gong Lau Yan asked quizzically. “There was the typhoon that hit the southern kingdoms several months ago, but I didn’t think much had been happening up here.”

The typhoon. Yuen Muk had forgotten about it after all that had happened. He made a mental note to ask Gong Lau Yan and Dzue Dziu Ming about it later.

“Not at all, the weather has been quite good. We are… Tcha Nāśi Mest’at has brought some experts with her to solve the matter.”

Yuen Muk thought he felt the ground tremble, very slightly. No one else seemed to have noticed; Cheng Baak-hap, seated between him and Dzue Dziu Ming, was muttering to the Regent and writing notes. He sneaked a glance to see that she was writing: ‘Tcha Nāśi means Queen’.

Gong Lau Yan murmured something unintelligible to all except Wong Tang. Shikladak’s eyes flickered.

The trembling ceased.

Baak Tsau Saa coughed irritably. “Can we move on to the reason why we are gathered here?” He impatiently sipped his tea, his face a little red, and a small bite taken from his bowl of spicy noodles. Dzue Dziu Ming also coughed, sounding suspiciously like he was stifling a laugh.

“You have created a language,” Mest’at said archly, finally turning her attention to Cheng Baak-hap. Her pale blue eyes bored into the young woman.

“Isn’t our Sage Star smart?” Dzue Dziu Ming responded flippantly. “Here, we have a summary of what has been developed so far.”

Bamboo tablets were passed around the table. Shikladak leaned on the table, examining the tablet in his hand with polite amusement. Mest’at’s expression grew colder, if such a thing was possible. Only the sect leaders looked solemnly neutral.

“Is there a problem, Tcha Nāśi Mest’at?” Dzue Dziu Ming asked with a smile.

“This language is based on the Dzue language.”

“Correct.”

“So you wish to continue pushing your barely-veiled attempts at increasing your hold on the Five Kingdoms. Just admit this is part of your plans for an empire.”

Dzue Dziu Ming laughed.

His laugh was entirely without mirth. There was a viciousness to it that made the nervous Baak Tsau Saa flinch. Mest’at merely narrowed her pale eyes.

When he stopped, he stared at Mest’at, unblinking.

“Wolf Queen, how many languages do you speak? Five? Six? Does that mean Dzang is part of six different empires?”

“Those languages are necessary for trade.”

“And this language is necessary for peace.”

“So Dzue has the monopoly on peace with the demons?”

As she was speaking, her pale eyes were growing more and more green. A fuzz of pale grey fur began to grow across her cheeks. Wong Tang and Gong Lau Yan shifted in their chairs, scales rippling across their own cheeks. The humans in the room tensed instinctively.

Dzue Dziu Ming still hadn’t blinked. “What are you asking for, Queen? Let’s not circle each other until one of us drops dead from tedium.”

For a second, her eyes flicked towards the two loong, their scales shining on their humanoid faces.

“Might I remind you that we don’t have time.”

“So you say.”

“You’ve heard the reports, Wolf Queen. I’m sure your envoys and diplomats and spies have even seen some of the impacts of the demons first hand. Or are you hoping that they will overrun the southernmost countries, leaving yours without contest?”

She growled, deep in her chest. Dzue Dziu Ming did not flinch.

“The language is not complete,” he said, more softly.

She closed her eyes.

“Has this language been taught to those demons?”

“Only a few,” Cheng Baak-hap answered. “Mostly to test that they have the morphology to pronounce the sounds.”

“We will be closely involved in any further developments of this language.” It was a statement, not a request.

“How do you feel about this, Lord Shikladak?” Dzue Dziu Ming asked, amusement once more colouring his voice.

The other man shrugged cheerfully. “Fine by me.”

They smiled disingenuously at each other.

“Well then. Let us speak of the details.”