XVIII. The First Protectorate Treaty
Sarfan-Muxal Treaty of Protection, fifth day of eleventh moon, Old Year 298 (Alexine Year 1)
A TREATY OF PROTECTION
between the villages of SARFAN & MUXAL,
with regards to the PROSPERITY, WELFARE, and COMMON DEFENSE of these two towns;
written and reviewed in the presence of the COUNCIL OF SARFAN and ALEXIUS, Axe of the People;
and in the presence of ALOYST of Muxal, representative of the COUNCIL OF MUXAL;
reviewed in dual congress this fifth day of the eleventh moon, 298th Year of Heaven.
"Hell of a title, isn't it?"
Eight faces are gathered around the cramped table of the common hall, cleaned off neatly for the occasion. Three sheets of paper, the ink still not fully dried, are arranged on its surface, sitting next to a fresh quill and a pot of ink. Outside, the hustle and bustle of Ajor Plaza burbles like a stream.
Alexius sits at the head of the table, staring directly at Aloyst, the somber and dour-faced representative from Muxal who arrived at Sarfan two days ago. Sitting next to the stern ambassador is Triver, his messenger. Both of them look quizically at Alexius. "Sorry?" says Aloyst.
Alexius attempts a smile. "You know," he says, "the title. It's, uh... it's long."
A pause. "I saw," the ambassador replies tersely. Silence hangs over the table.
Ramaf fidgets in the quiet and leans over to the ambassador. "You can sign here," he says, tapping to the line on the final sheet. "It's only a first draft, of course, we can talk out the amendments you'd like to add."
Aloyst the ambassador merely grunts and takes out a pair of glasses. "If I may," he says.
Ramaf nods, and the ambassador begins to read. The clock on the wall ticks away quietly.
1. The villages of Sarfan and Muxal will be forever united and will be governed by one body and one law. Until both villages agree to a codified law, the common law of the plains will be enforced.
2. The Council of Muxal will have two of its villagers represent their village in the Council of Sarfan.
3. The Council of Sarfan will be the final authority on actions taken by Muxal.
"What does this mean?" Aloyst asks.
Ramaf, startled, leans over again. "Which part?"
"The third point. What does 'final authority' mean?"
"It means," Alexius says, "that this Council can override decisions taken by Muxal."
"I see." The ambassador looks towards Alexius sternly. "And why was this clause necessary?"
Alexius shrugs. "We would not want one village to act two ways. There must be a final judge."
"Is the law not good enough of a judge for Sarfan?"
"No law can predict the future."
"Mm."
"Besides," Ramaf says hastily to the stone-faced ambassador, "it's not that you have to submit to us or anything like that—"
"It certainly sounds like it," Aloyst says. "Especially when anything we do has to be approved by this Council—" he waves vaguely towards the table "—like we're your dogs. Breathing down our necks."
Alexius looks at the ambassador with the sternest face he can muster up. "This point is non-negotiable. Either you agree to it or you don't get our protection."
"Perhaps I won't sign, then."
"But you don't really have a choice, do you."
Aloyst pauses. "True." He sighs and looks up at the Council. "Those were my instructions, yes. To get this thing over with."
"So you'll have to—"
"I wasn't finished, sir," Aloyst says coldly. Alexius feels his fist tightening and tells himself to loosen it. Take it easy.
"My instructions were to get this treaty approved, it's true." The old ambassador has a look in his eye as he continues: "But I was also ordered to secure the best terms for Muxal. And this—" he points to the paper with an accusatory finger "—is not in our best interests."
"Sir," Ramaf says hastily, "I assure you that Muxal will see nothing but benefits from this pact. I guarantee it."
The ambassador merely sighs and takes off his glasses. "With all due respect, sirs," he says, "I was a librarian for fifteen years. I have read countless books, endless treaties as these... as has my companion here." He gestures to the messenger sitting next to him, who nods grimly. "On these matters, we are not amateurs."
"Is that so," Hava Yal mutters, glaring murderously at the ambassador.
Aloyst returns the glare. "Yes," he says tersely. "My point, sirs, is that this treaty takes away our right to manage our own affairs. I have eyes, I can see exactly what you're demanding of us. We're not children, you know. Muxal has governed herself for five generations: we have no need of this... this tyranny."
"And I believe you," Alexius says quickly. "We have no intention of... of ruling your village for you. Your council will still take care of your affairs."
"Then what, sir, is this point exactly saying?" Aloysts asks in a hard voice.
Alexius meets his gaze with what he hopes is a severe expression. "What that point is saying, sir, is that the Council of Sarfan alone will determine whether or not your actions are aligned with the law—a council, by the way, which you will be represented in—and that we will have the final say on whether your actions are legal or not."
"But that's—"
"Here," Alexius snaps, and points to the text below. "Read those next points before you say anything."
Grudgingly, the ambassador puts his glasses back on and scans the bottom of the page:
4. Sarfan will send fifteen armed men of the Self-Defense Combine to Muxal as soon as this treaty goes into effect, and will build for Muxal, by its own volition and without need of pay, a wall of stone in order to defend its Protectorate.
5. In addition, Sarfan will grant Muxal the right to create its own laws (provided that they align with the common law); the right to elect its own leaders; and the right to determine its own expansion.
6. Sarfan will abolish the fee on imports from Muxal permanently.
7. Sarfan will swear to send any and all aid available to Muxal if it is ever attacked by zombies or Pillagers.
8. Muxal will swear to send any and all available to Sarfan should the same arise.
"Now," Alexius says carefully, "do you have any qualms with those points?"
Aloyst thinks before responding slowly. "No," he says. "No, these are fair."
"And do you understand that we're sacrificing a great deal of our own prosperity and time to protect you?"
The ambassador nods.
"There you go, then," Alexius says, leaning back into his chair. "Anyone looking at this would say that this treaty's a damn good deal. You'll have peace, safety, prosperity, so on and so forth, and all you have to do is agree that we have the final say here."
"And why should you have the final say?"
Alexius shrugs. "Again," he says. "You don't really have a choice, do you?"
Aloyst stops to think and leans to his messenger, whispering in a stilted kind of dialect. After a long silence, the ambassador nods and turns back to Alexius.
"It's not the best deal," he says.
"Well," Alexius replies slowly, "only one of us here has killed a Pillager."
Aloyst mulls over it. "True," he says.
Ramaf coughs. "So," he says hopefully, "that's agreed on, then?"
"We would prefer not to have to ask for permission every time we do something," the ambassador replies tersely. "And no interference in how we enforce our own laws. Add a clause in about that, and it's agreed."
"Deal," Alexius says. The ambassador nods to the messenger, who, picking up the quill, carefully writes on the page:
3. The Council of Sarfan will be the final authority on actions taken by Muxal. The Council of Muxal need not ask for permission for an action it takes from the Council of Sarfan, provided that the action can be repealed by the Council of Sarfan. The Council of Sarfan will not interfere in the enforcement of the law in Muxal.
Ramaf takes a look at the paper and nods. Aloyst puts the quill back before carefully picking up the second page. He continues to read with trembling hands:
9. Under the guidance of the men of the Self-Defense Combine, Muxal will provide its own self-defense force, which will work with the Self-Defense Combine, in order to protect itself along with help from Sarfan.
10. The rights of property, land, and religion will be upheld by the Council of Muxal.
"Take out the part about religion from point ten," Aloyst says.
"Why?" asks Ramaf.
"Our village," the ambassador replies, "was plagued once with a... well, you could call it a cult... Death-Worshippers, you know."
"Holymists?" Ramaf asks, surprised. "Weren't they banished to the deserts?"
Aloyst shrugs. "You know how heresy infiltrates peoples' hearts. And Holymists... well, you know what those people say. I'd like to avoid that kind of perverse influence in this treaty."
"But it's only a religious matter," Alexius says. "And everyone has a right to choose their own religion."
The ambassador turns to him with a deadly stare. "And why, sir," he asks in a low voice, "do you feel this way?"
"I..." Alexius turns to Ramaf, who stares at him wide-eyed and shakes his head slowly. "Never mind," he says. "You can get rid of that part."
Nodding, the messenger picks up the quill and crosses out the text:
10. The rights of property, land, a̶n̶d̶ r̶e̶l̶i̶g̶i̶o̶n̶ will be upheld by the Council of Muxal.
"That's that, then?" Ramaf asks anxiously. The ambassador merely waves the question away with a grunt as he continues to read to the final page.
11. The rate of exchange between emeralds and goods, and the rate of exchange in trade between Sarfan and Muxal, will be equal.
12. Muxal will defer to the Council of Sarfan in all questions regarding the above articles, provided that it has adequate representation within that Council.
13. Alexius, Axe of the People, will have the right to enforce and protect the law in both Sarfan and Muxal.
14. If any of the articles above are found to be unjust, or against the will of the people of Sarfan and Muxal, they will be voided accordingly.
The ambassador puts down the sheaves of paper. "If I may, sirs," he says, "I'd like to add another article to this. Just one."
With trembling hand, he slowly writes on the bottom of the page:
15. Muxal may withdraw from this treaty if any part of it is used to inflict grievous injustice upon it.
Ramaf takes the page and looks at the added article. He shrugs: "I don't see why not," he says, passing the paper around to everyone else. The rest of the Council concurs, and the ambassador nods. "I have no more objections," Aloyst says.
And, dipping the quill gingerly into the inkpot, he asks: "Where do I sign?"
Alexius smiles.
Signed on this day in the presence of the Council of Sarfan, the most honorable representative of the Council of Muxal, and Alexius, Axe of the People:
ALEXIUS, Axe of the People and leader of Sarfan.
RAMAF, Councilor of Diplomacy.
ALOYST, Alderman and Representative of the Council of Muxal.
HAVA YAL, Councilor of Trade.
SPAYER, Councilor of Defense.
VIROD, Councilor of Agriculture.
ARTER, Councilor of Labor.
The ambassador still stands in the Plaza, talking to the messenger and holding a letter in his hand, when Alexius walks up to him, armor clanking. "I'm glad we got that over with," he says to the ambassador cheerfully.
Aloyst looks up and bows slightly. "Sir," he says.
"Please, none of that," Alexius replies, smiling. "After all, we're partners in this, aren't we?"
"You could say that," Aloyst replies. The ambassador hands the letter to the messenger and mutters a few words before sending him off. The paper in the messenger's hand flutters as he trots away on his horse, back towards the gate.
"Ciofo and Amil will like how this turned out," Aloyst says to nobody in particular. "Soldiers, walls, and keeping their titles to boot..."
"And what about you, Aloyst?" asks Alexius. The ambassador merely shrugs: "I did what I could," he replies.
"So you didn't like how it turned out?"
"I didn't say that."
"It sounded like it."
The ambassador sighs and turns to Alexius. "You know how these things are," he says almost tiredly. "You get something and you lose something. That's how it goes."
"And you don't like what you got."
"Not exactly." The ambassador begins to walk to the stone tower of the Ajor, and Alexius follows by. The vendors of the square begin to wrap up their wares as the two of them walk by: the sun's beginning to set. A golden glow settles over the walls.
"I wanted what I got," Aloyst says carefully. "You'll have to forgive me, sir, for being a little wary."
"Why's that?"
The ambassador is silent for a while before continuing. "When Ciofo and Amil returned to Muxal, they were elated—over the moon, you could say. They were raving about you and your walls for hours. Half the village was entranced." He laughs slightly. "I didn't want to come, you know. They told me—I remember this clearly—they told me that you were a wise man, a strong man."
The two come to the cobblestone steps of the Ajor. Alexius asks: "Do you think they were right?"
"Well..." Aloyst pauses as he comes before the apse of the building. "I don't doubt your strength. But wisdom... ah, wisdom brings prudence, caution." He turns to Alexius: "I don't think you're a wise man at all, sir. You move too quickly, too haphazardly. It's as if you're unafraid of the consequences of your actions."
Alexius pauses. "And you hate me for that?"
"Hate?" The ambassador shakes his head. "No, sir, hate is a strong word. But..." He sighs again. "I would like to see wisdom before my village ties itself to you. Some caution. That's all."
"So you don't think Muxal should be a protectorate at all."
"We'll benefit from your protection, but... well, forgive me—but I'd rather not see my village tie itself to a man as yourself."
"Reckless?"
"Mm-hmm. After all—" the ambassador turns to Alexius and smiles ruefully "—you're the only thing we're counting on right now."
Alexius is silent for a while before he speaks again.
"Do you believe in me?" he asks.
Aloyst takes a second. "It's a gamble," the ambassador replies carefully.
"A gamble you need to survive."
"That's also true." The ambassador bows his head slightly.
"No one expected anything like you, you know," he says after a while. "It's a strange gamble to make—betting on someone no one's ever seen before."
Alexius looks at Aloyst. "These are desperate times," he says quietly.
The ambassador cocks his head slightly as he kneels and clasps his hands. "That's true," he replies. "These are desperate times."
And, bowing his head, Aloyst begins to pray.