Parallel Memory

Chapter 719: A Decision That Refused to Come

The second day of the assembly ended without a decision.

So did the third.

Then the fourth.

By the end of the first week, everyone had stopped pretending that the peace treaty would be settled quickly.

The original expectation had been that the three powers would gather, debate the terms, make a few changes, and reach an agreement.

That expectation had died somewhere between the fifth argument over portal security and the seventh disagreement concerning trade restrictions.

The peace treaty itself had become buried beneath layers of conditions.

Every institution wanted to add something.

Every faction wanted to remove something.

And every representative believed that their addition was necessary while the other’s was an unnecessary complication.

The Authority wanted a clear framework for future relations.

The Church wanted safeguards.

The War Council wanted military guarantees.

The adventurer guilds wanted freedom from religious interference.

The retired veterans wanted restrictions on devil movement.

The Church wanted authority over demonic energy inspections.

The Authority wanted the portal to be placed under a neutral organization.

The War Council wanted the portal guarded by the military.

The guilds wanted adventurers to be allowed to travel freely between the two domains.

The Church wanted every individual crossing the border to be inspected.

The veterans wanted the entire border closed except under special circumstances.

And the treaty continued sitting in the center of the table.

Waiting.

The first week became the second.

The second week became the third.

And slowly, the Human Domain began to understand that the peace treaty was not going to be decided by a single meeting.

********************************************

By the tenth day, the assembly hall had changed.

The original representatives still occupied their seats.

The Church.

The Authority.

The War Council.

The guild masters.

The retired veterans.

But more people had begun appearing.

Some were invited because of their knowledge.

Some because of their political influence.

Some because they represented groups that had been affected by the war.

And some were invited simply because excluding them had become politically impossible.

The Authority had invited several trade representatives.

The Church had invited scholars who specialized in demonic energy.

The War Council had invited military commanders from border regions.

The guilds had sent representatives from several major cities.

Every person who entered the hall brought another opinion.

And every opinion created another question.

The assembly had begun with three powers.

Now, it felt as though the entire Human Domain was attempting to participate.

But the reality was not quite so simple.

The majority of those people were not allowed to speak.

They were observers.

They could watch.

They could listen.

They could take notes.

They could return to their organizations and explain what had happened.

But they could not stand and argue.

They could not propose changes.

They could not interrupt the representatives.

They could not vote.

They could not decide.

At first, many people considered their presence a sign that the government was becoming more transparent.

The people had been allowed to witness the process.

The assembly had opened its doors.

But after several days, some observers began to realize the uncomfortable truth.

They had been given eyes.

They had not been given a voice.

A large gallery had been constructed along the back of the hall.

Rows of seats rose above the main chamber.

Anyone permitted to observe the meeting sat there.

They could see everything.

They could hear everything.

They could even see the expressions of the representatives when a particularly unpopular proposal was raised.

But the rules were strict.

No speaking.

No interrupting.

No questions.

No direct communication with the representatives while the assembly was in session.

If an observer became disruptive, they would be removed.

The arrangement was strange.

The people were present.

But they were not truly part of the decision.

One young observer whispered to another during a break.

"So we are here to watch them argue?"

The older man beside him nodded.

"Apparently."

"Can we give our opinion?"

"No."

"Then why are we here?"

The older man looked toward the main table.

"To know what they decided before everyone else."

The young observer considered that.

"That doesn’t sound very useful."

"It is not."

The man continued watching the representatives.

"But it is better than being outside and knowing nothing."

That was how most people felt.

The observers had been allowed to enter the room.

But the actual power remained at the main table.

**********************************************

The month continued.

The treaty changed.

Then changed back.

Then changed again.

One day, the Authority proposed that a neutral group be created to manage the portal.

The Church objected.

The next day, the Church proposed that the portal be placed under the protection of a joint religious and military force.

The Authority objected.

The day after that, the War Council suggested that the portal should remain closed until the Devil Kingdom had proven its intentions.

The Authority called the proposal unrealistic.

The Church called it reasonable.

The guilds called it an unnecessary delay.

The retired veterans called it the bare minimum.

The War Council then spent half a day arguing about what "proven its intentions" actually meant.

By the end of the discussion, everyone had forgotten who had originally proposed the idea.

There were also smaller arguments.

Some were serious.

Some were not.

One representative spent an entire afternoon arguing over the wording of a clause concerning diplomatic gifts.

"Why should devil representatives be allowed to bring gifts into the Human Domain?"

The Authority representative looked tired.

"Because it is a diplomatic custom."

"That does not make it safe."

"It is a ceremonial gift."

"What if the gift is cursed?"

"The treaty already contains magical inspection requirements."

"What if the inspection fails?"

"Then the gift is rejected."

"What if the inspector is deceived?"

At that point, Commander Rurik had placed his hand over his face.

The argument had lasted nearly an hour.

The clause was eventually changed.

The word gift was replaced with an approved diplomatic item.

Nothing else changed.

The meeting continued.

*****************************************

Another week passed.

The people outside began to grow impatient.

At first, the delay had been accepted.

The treaty was important.

The decision required careful thought.

But after three weeks, the patience of the public began to weaken.

People wanted to know what was happening.

Rumors began spreading.

Some claimed that the Church was secretly planning to reject the treaty.

Others claimed that the Authority had already made a secret agreement with Lilith.

Some said that the War Council was preparing for another war.

Others claimed that the guilds had demanded control of the portal.

None of these rumors were entirely true.

Some contained pieces of truth.

Others were complete nonsense.

But that did not stop people from believing them.

The longer the meeting continued, the more people began creating their own explanations.

That was the danger Commander Rurik had warned them about.

The longer the decision took, the more space rumors had to grow.

The representatives understood this.

But no one knew how to stop it.

A decision made too quickly could create war.

A decision made too slowly could create unrest.

The Human Domain had somehow reached a point where even waiting had become dangerous.