Chapter 637 - The Treaty of Kazehara VIII

Naturally, annoyingly, Arachne knew where my lines in the sand were. She did need to change a few votes of mine around halfway through the summit. As intelligent and well connected as the vampire was - on top of spying on everyone - there were a number of other players with their own agendas, doing their own manipulations in the background.

I was content to be a pawn with particular goals. As long as they were accomplished, I’d move all over the board as directed. Kinda like being a Sentinel in some ways.

Just because I was a pawn, it didn’t mean I didn’t have to do anything myself. There were hundreds of strong personalities in the area, and most of us didn’t have a chance to research every proposal in depth. For each proposal, delegates had a chance to respond. For most proposals, a thirty second to five minute speech on the topic from both sides was the only information I had before I needed to vote.

One time-wasting idiot managed to get himself thrown out by the High Council by trying to have an opinion on everything, and we just had to know it. We genuinely stood up and applauded when the 12-0-1 vote to throw the guy out came through, and the faun who made the proposal didn’t have to buy his own drinks the rest of the summit.

I tended to keep Night’s advice in mind, and voted against most restrictions. That, and keeping an eye on how Skye was voting.

Given the proposal restricting [Healers] going around, and given that it was late in the summit, I’d had plenty of time to prepare my speech. As well as plenty of time to get dressed to make an impression.

Kazehara had virtually everything, including a [Beautician] who was gaining several levels per day. Catering to powerful Immortals at a world-defining summit had weight. She wasn’t the only one leveling like this was her only chance in life, but she was the one I’d asked to give me a hand. From my hair to my toes, from makeup to lipstick, from matching jewelry to my formal toga, she helped me get ready for possibly the most important speech I’d make this millennium.

I was standing up the very second the proposal around [Healers] was presented.

“We recognize Elaine as having the floor.” Verris announced as the spotlight came on me.

“I am Elaine.” I announced in a clear voice, channeling skills learned long ago to make my words carry in the vast arena, spells supporting me or not. “The word ‘Healer’ is literally named after me. I am the founder of modern medicine. I am the author of the Medical Manuscripts. I am the first one to utter the words ‘First, do no harm’, and codify them into the System.”

I smirked - carefully calculated, goddess damnit Arachne, why were your lessons so useful - and carried on, mimicking how Night presented one of his stories so long ago.

“You might have heard of me. During the recent Kyowa era, [Healers] were restricted, held on a tight leash. Wardens traveled the land, executing people who wanted nothing more than to help their fellow men and women. Peaceful [Medics] who’d simply sworn to do no harm, to lend aid and comfort, punished with death for daring to want to do more. Can anyone here raise their hand and honestly say they haven’t needed a [Healer’s] service? Nobody has taken injuries that needed care? Nobody has been in a difficult childbirth, or had a mother, sister, or daughter that struggled? Nobody has faced disease and illness? Your animals are healthier and more productive because of [Veterinarians] looking after them. Poison from your food is no risk with a [Healer] in the town. From all this, people want to crush down the most helpful and selfless of classes? We want to weaken them to the point where we start dying?”

I held my arms out in confusion.

“What is this?” I asked, letting people think about it for a moment. “From where I’m standing, all I see is an excuse. A scapegoat. The most tortured logic. ‘Well, a [Healer] might gain an incredibly rare skill. They might use it on someone we don’t like. They might get strong over the years, and they’ll cause problems for us’.”

I paused, letting my expression communicate how I felt about that logic, before putting it into words.

“Bullshit.” I announced. “It’s absolute, unfiltered bullshit. If we don’t want Immortals in mortal lands? Make that the rule. Even so, with that rule in the Kyowa era, it clearly didn’t work. Look at two of the representatives from Rolland! Sir Pendragon and Kestrel are both Immortals, and I don’t think they moved in the last ten years, given how history has them rattling around the area over 800 years ago.”

I was calling them out specifically because it was some idiot [Duke] from Rolland who had put forward the proposal. I had a whole list of Immortals from mortal nations who I’d planned on calling out, depending on who exactly put the proposal forward.

“[Healers] were nothing more than a casus belli. An excuse for war. An excuse that directly murdered thousands, and probably indirectly murdered millions. Not just from the [Healers] cut down in the prime of their life, denied from saving more, but from the tens of thousands more medics that stopped at 256 and lived out their mortal lifespan there, not daring to push themselves further. Not daring to heal more. It’s a coward's excuse to go after the defenseless, and only the barest of lip service were paid to the rule. I spent several excellent years at the School of Sorcery and Spellcraft. You know what I heard there? A dozen of my mortal peers trying to recruit me to their faction and home, knowing with the right disguise they can have their own powerful [Healer] handing out Immortality like candy. I have no doubts that dozens of such cases existed, blatant evidence that the law was meant to crush the honest among you while allowing the dishonest to thrive. If you’re worried about Immortal [Mages] high up in their tower raining down death and destruction on people? Ban the Immortal [Mage] in their tower. Worried about an undying [King] refusing to abdicate? Make your own laws on how long a [King] can rule. Worried about a neighbor slowly gaining power over the years? Build up your own. Handle the situation, not a proxy root cause!”

I was furious near the end, my emotions getting the better of me for the first time in far too long. It wasn’t the time or the place, but at the same time, it fucking was the time and the place. I blinked tears of rage out of my eyes and wrapped up. Breaking down here and now would sabotage my efforts so hard. I shortcut to the end a bit, skipping the appeal to Immortals. I had a whole fancy thing about striving and seizing Immortality taking on many different forms, and to let mortals rise up however they could. I had no doubt Immortals had also voted for the restrictions, but for different reasons.

And I’d practiced the speech so much.

“Healing is a sacred responsibility. We don’t seek to acquire power or personal glory. As we try to bring life to others, please don’t bring death to us. Thank you.”

I sat down heavily.

There were no great cheers, no applause. Verris simply stood up, and started talking.

“Are there any other members who wish to weigh in on the topic?”

He waited four heartbeats before carrying on.

By Ciriel. I’d been building up to this for weeks, and it all came down to a few measly heartbeats and a couple of yawns? I wanted to throttle somebody.

“Very well. All those in favor of the proposal, raise your hand.”

One idiot in the Exterreri faction started to raise his hand, and my glare was like a physical weight on him. He glanced over at me, saw the look of wrath on my face, and hastily put his hand back down.

It was only one person voting, and without a particularly strong weight either. More and more hands went up all around the arena, including a few heavy hitters.

“Very well. All those against?” Verris asked.

I could’ve kissed Susan at the sheer wave of hands going up in the air. All the bargaining, all the work I did, all the practiced speeches - it all came down to this moment of truth.

The scorecards went up, and I went limp with relief.

“492 - 841 - 672. Motion failed.” Verris announced. “Next proposal.”

Just like that, the fate of [Healers] for the coming millennium was secured. Just two little words, and I’d saved millions of lives. The rush was heady.

Fuck. Was this why people played politics? Was this the drug of power? Gods, no wonder people got addicted. 

Proposals were all over the place. Some seemed sensible and reasonable to my untrained ear. A defensive pact among the mortal nations, in case an Immortal tried to invade, which passed. The Ekada Ruh tried to codify hospitality to travelers, which was soundly denied. Rules of engagement in wars, which I was happy to influence - [Healers] on the backline were off-limits. 

Not that I expected the rules to be particularly well followed.

Other proposed rules seemed dumb. Restrictions on [Merchants], which I was half-surprised didn’t have Amber dropping out of the sky with a hundred perfectly designed bribes. I was a little worried about her, what was she doing that had her missing the central meeting of wealthy and powerful people? A dozen hyper-specific rules that were clearly someone’s pet project or designed to trip up a neighbor, all of which were soundly shot down. This was an international summit, not the place to be trying to settle petty grudges. Didn’t stop people from trying, but the nice thing about the sheer number of people was the great difficulty in rapidly influencing enough people to agree on most of the odd takes. 

It took five weeks, almost all of which I managed to spend the evening at home, but we ended up with the Treaty of Kazehara in the end, one which the Wardens would not be violently enforcing. To nearly everyone’s relief.

Which meant the treaty was worth what people believed it to be worth. Penalty for violating it? Whatever the neighbors thought up.

Immortals were once again allowed in mortal lands, which was semi-hilarious in conjunction with the defensive pact. No war allowed! Just move in and slowly take over, that was allowed. I was happy to vote against the restriction, knowing that Iona would be delighted. She could semi-freely move around Pallos. Void [Mages] ended up banned, to my great relief - I didn’t want to hear about cities regularly wiping themselves off the map - but Mirage getting banned was an entirely unexpected plot twist.

‘Far too easy to deceive and lie’ the proponents claimed. ‘The perfect element for an [Assassin].’ ‘Nothing good comes out of it.’

There was a whole mess in the backend of various deals, special interest groups, and other nonsense that had the Mirage ban included as the tipping point for a much larger aspect of the Treaty to get through. I was reminded why I hated politics, neatly balancing out the rush from earlier.

A carve-out for [Entertainers] was denied, which had the kitsunes pissed. I agreed with them. [Laborer] and even more appropriately, [Artisan] would be a wonderful exception. Ban the [Rangers] and [Warriors] if anything. Most other elements were selective combinations, not the entire element. Wally even confirmed it was a large chunk of why the Wardens refused to be the enforcers this time around, they weren’t going to bother with something so broad. Of course, the people voting yes hadn’t quite realized the fallout at the time.

The Kazehara delegation, along with the wider Nippon-Koku delegation, loudly protested, and Nippon-Koku ended up not signing the treaty at all in the end in protest, walking out of the event early. Given the elemental inclination of kitsunes towards Mirage, and how heavily their entertainment industry relied on illusions, I wasn’t surprised.

Nina was going to have a hard time in the coming centuries… but then again, she could just throw a mirage over her eyes, so it wasn’t like the ban was going to slow down [Assassins] or anyone with ill intent, it just made it far harder to train anti-illusion skills. Silon had it right - when the lynch mob came for something, no amount of reason changed their mind.

The dragons found it hilarious. I thought of some poor [Herald] walking up to Lun’Kat and trying to tell the ancient dragon that she wasn’t allowed to use illusions anymore, and had an inappropriately loud laughing fit in the middle of voting.

Acid and Miasma also ate bans, creating a new Forbidden Four. Spore and Poison somehow got off the list, even though we’d just had a Spore-induced zombie apocalypse spread over nearly the entire world. Then again, they’d been so easy to kill that maybe nobody feared it anymore. I was suspicious of the whole thing.

The School was declared neutral ground, a motion to vigorously hunt down the Pekari was almost unanimously denied - most [Leaders] didn’t think their people were up for a violent campaign. A dozen more items ended up in the surprisingly small Treaty. None of the descended god’s proposals made it in, to their great frustration.

The Witch in White wanted to meet with me near the end of the summit, and I was honored to help her out. 

I needed introductions to the summit.

She didn’t.

“Elaine. Thank you for meeting with me.” The Witch said, dressed in blindingly pure white. Her fingers idly traced the edges of the table, and bright flowers freely bloomed.

“It’s my honor. The School was a place where I was able to find my feet again after a particularly bad encounter with the fae. I apologize again for my actions a few years ago.”

She nodded, accepting my apology. Again.

I think it was going to be a few more decades before it was properly faded away, and I’d stop feeling bad about it.

“If you’d truly like to apologize, we need more [Teachers] and [Professors] at the School. Should you be interested, know there is always a spot for you.”

“A good friend of mine died there recently. There’s some pain for me right now. At the same time, my adopted daughter is rapidly getting to the point where she needs some better schooling. I’m willing to teach other students and her at the same time at the School. I’ll need to talk with my family, and see what they think about moving.”

Flora nodded and sipped at her tea. I couldn’t identify the floral scent, and it was driving me slightly mad with curiosity. Perhaps intentionally.

“It’s an understandably difficult decision, especially with the depth of roots you must have. There is no time limit on this offer, and we do have education opening up for all ages.”

From there, the conversation moved onto lighter topics.

Getting everyone, all over the world, to agree on something was hard. People were broadly selfish, and wanted to look after their own. In many ways, as high as my ideals were, I was the same. I wanted to look after [Healers].

In the end, we had a document that would help shape the world for the next few centuries, if not longer. Nearly everyone put their name to it, and shrugging, I did the same.

Elaine.