‘Nor I!’ Demavend stood up. ‘We shall not reach agreement, then!’

‘Gentlemen.’ Cyrus Hemmelfart, the Hierarch of Novigrad, who had been slumbering until then, suddenly spoke in a placatory manner. ‘Some kind of compromise is surely possible—’

‘The Empire of Nilfgaard,’ began again Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, who liked to butt in out of the blue, ‘will not accept any deal that would be damaging to the Land of Elves in Dol Blathanna. If necessary, I shall read you once again the contents of the memorandum…’

Henselt, Foltest and Dijkstra snorted, but Demavend looked at the imperial ambassador calmly and almost benignly.

‘For the general good and for peace,’ he declared, ‘I recognise the autonomy of Dol Blathanna. Not as a kingdom, but as a duchy. The condition is that Duchess Enid an Gleanna pays liege homage to me and obligates herself to grant equal rights and privileges to humans and elves. I’m prepared to do that, as I have said, pro publico bono.’

‘Spoken like a true king,’ said Meve.

‘Salus publica lex suprema est,’ said Hierarch Hemmelfart, who had also been searching for some time for the chance to show off his knowledge of diplomatic jargon.

‘I shall add, nonetheless,’ continued Demavend, looking at the pompous Henselt, ‘that the concession regarding Dol Blathanna is not a precedent. It is the only encroachment on the integrity of my lands to which I shall agree. I shall not recognise any other partition. The Kaedwenian Army that invaded my borders as an aggressor and invader has one week to abandon the illegally occupied fortalices and castles of Upper Aedirn. That is the condition of my further participation in this conference. And because verba volant, my secretary shall submit to the minutes an official démarche in the case.’

‘Henselt?’ Foltest looked hesitantly at the bearded king.

‘Never!’ roared the King of Kaedwen, knocking over a chair and hopping like a chimpanzee stung by a hornet. ‘I’ll never give up the Marches! Over my dead body! Never! Nothing will make me! No force! No fucking force!’

And in order to prove he was also well-born and educated he howled: ‘Non possumus!’

‘I’ll give him non possumus, the old fool!’ snorted Sabrina Glevissig in the upstairs chamber. ‘You need not worry, ladies, I’ll force that blockhead to recognise the repossession demands in the case of Upper Aedirn. The Kaedwenian Army will leave before ten days are up. The matter is clear. No two ways about it. If any of you doubted it I have the right to feel piqued, indeed.’

Philippa Eilhart and Sheala de Tancarville expressed their acknowledgement by bowing. Assire var Anahid gave her thanks with a smile.

‘All that remains today,’ said Sabrina, ‘is to settle the matter of Dol Blathanna. We know the contents of Emperor Emhyr’s memorandum. The kings down below still haven’t had the chance to discuss that matter, but have signalled their preferences. And the most–I would say–interested party has taken a stance. That’s King Demavend.’