"Thank you all for coming... After more than a month of intense negotiations, we have reached a series of friendly agreents..."
Archmage Lebron held up a wine glass—filled with a pale golden liquid, possibly champagne—and cast a voice amplifying spell, speaking with great enthusiasm.
In the venue, about half of the audience listened politely, while the other half whispered among themselves...
Garrett had just erged from seclusion and advanced in rank, arriving just in ti for the closing ceremony of this diplomatic conference.
He had seen it through from beginning to end, truly earning his title as a diplomat. Now, he was mingling in the crowd, fulfilling his last duty.
Although at this mont, Garrett was not with the vampires he was supposed to host but surrounded by a group of dwarves, barbarians, and orcs, who were overwhelming him with their attention:
"Garrett, have you advanced? The stars on your badge have changed!"
Gavin, on tiptoes, struggled to look at Garrett’s chest.
There, a mage’s badge with five copper stars had now turned into one silver star. Next to the badge, an oak staff with six green leaves elegantly unfolded—
A sixth-level mage, a sixth-level priest.
"You were still fourth-level when you left... That was fast! It’s only been over half a year, and the copper stars turned to silver!"
"Yes, indeed. It’s been quick."
An orc warrior pushed through the crowd, his large golden earrings swinging, dizzying to watch.
Seeing Garrett’s bewildered expression, he laughed heartily and pointed at his own chest:
"Mage sir, rember ? I was the one you saved by cutting open my chest and manually compressing my heart."
Oh, the case of cardiac tamponade, the one where he directly pressed on the heart. Now Garrett rembered:
"That’s you! How’s your recovery?"
"Great!" The orc warrior swung his fist and jumped vigorously, keen to show off his robustness:
"After I went back, I rested for six months and successfully advanced!"
Open chest, direct heart compression, successful resuscitation, no impedint to advancent... Garrett noted ntally.
Very good, another case feedback. Such rare cases could actually make for a paper... Too bad there’s no relevant journal here. When will there be an Otherworld version of The Lancet?
"Mage Nordmark, I heard you’ve been researching blood verification magic lately. How’s it going? Can our blood be used to determine blood types?"
"Uh, this... This magic has only been tested on humans so far..."
Garrett broke into a sweat. His blood verification magic, tailored for human blood types, could instantly determine A, B, AB, and O types—though he had renad them for easier dissemination in this other world. But for orcs...
"Lord Nordmark, give it a try." Elder Brock, wearing a feathered cape and holding a bone staff, also squeezed over, extending a hand:
"You said before, if blood transfusion could be done tily, warriors could recover much faster. Try it, maybe your magic can determine our blood types too?"
He gestured with his bone staff, and a group of barbarians crowded around, each extending a hand. The leader grabbed a small knife from his belt, wiped it across the pad of his left middle finger, and blood gushed out like a fountain.
Garrett: !!! Stop! Stop! Just a drop is enough!
No need to be so heroic and cut yourself like that!
He hurriedly took out a test tube to catch the blood, while simultaneously forming a small orb of healing energy and pressing it onto the wound. Ah, why make it so complicated when a needle prick and a cotton ball would suffice... ȑ𝘢ℕổ𐌱Ё§
After collecting the blood, a magical slap confird "Analysis Impossible". Garrett focused intently, sensing feedback from his ditative vision. Indeed, the results of the magical probe were different from the four human blood types.
"Uh... I might need more samples..."
"Samples abound! Look around here, or just shout in town, and you’d get hundreds!"
Elder Brock waved his hand grandly.
Garrett followed his gesture and looked ahead. Each warrior had raised a small knife—though the blades were three to four inches long—placed on their fingers, staring intently at him.
It really wasn’t necessary...
Garrett broke into a sweat. Turning his head to the side, the dwarves and barbarians were all staring wide-eyed, as if eager to take this opportunity to get their blood types tested right away.
"This..."
"Garrett, start with us!"
"Mage Nordmark, check our blood types first!"
Below in the hall, Garrett was surrounded by guests from different races, seemingly chatting happily, blending in well.
Above, Archmage Lebron and several leaders of the foreign delegations raised their glasses, smiling at each other:
These trade agreents, the free movent of people
, mutual guarantees of safety and work rights, were not the focus of these negotiations. After all, the agreents were just renewals, needing only minor adjustnts, easily handled by any subordinate.
But this ti, taking advantage of the continuous blows to the Radiant Church, while their pope and high priests all retracted their activities and significantly reduced their external involvents—
After one or two months of tough negotiations, everyone reached the most crucial outco:
At sea, blocking the Radiant Church’s fleet returning from the New World, delivering them a heavy blow!
Consensus was reached, combat tis were set, deploynts determined, and the numbers of troops, ships, magical devices, and high-level professionals coordinated, along with the thods of collaboration and command, and the sharing of costs and spoils of war...
Each point required discussion, every detail had to be repeatedly negotiated, each term agreed upon amid endless debates, scheming, table-flipping, and hurling insults about each other’s ancestors...
"Coward!"
"Coward!"
"Idiot! Those ships you built are just big bathtubs! One giant wave could capsize them!"
"Still better than soone who won’t even show their face outside another’s bathtub!"
Clang, clang, clang...
Papers, quill pens, and ink bottles flew in all directions.
Fortunately, dwarves, barbarians, and orcs are thick-skinned, and vampires and mages have various magical barriers. Once the throwing and tempers subsided, an apprentice-level cleaning spell swept through, and everything was back to normal...
Ah, all is said with tears.
Fortunately, everything was finally torn apart and settled. Tonight, everyone could fully enjoy the joy of the feast, without thinking about the arduous work ahead...
"Ah—"
From afar, behind the banquet podium in the deep, a scream suddenly erupted. Sharp, pitiful, fearful, desperate. The entire hall’s festive atmosphere was shattered by this scream.
Several foreign leaders turned their heads to look. The orc prince, quickest to act, leaped forward, following the sound. Before long, he returned, pointing angrily at Marquis Tergu of the vampires:
"Ptui! Our great orcs will never fight alongside you! Forget about the agreent!"
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