This war of independence, everyone assumed, would be over quickly — after all, the British Empire was now so formidable. And surely not every last soul in North America was clamoring for independence? Were there truly none who still felt loyalty to the motherland?
As it turned out, years of excessive exploitation had driven away friend and foe alike, and the great majority had rejected the empire's embrace. The few who still harbored fondness for the old country didn't dare breathe a word. When everyone else was called upon to contribute money, grain, and men, they had to respond with enthusiasm, terrified that any hesitation might be noticed, a noose slipped around their necks, and their bodies left dangling from a pole.
Everyone assumed that the might of the British Empire would snuff out the rebellion in short order. At first things went smoothly — they drove deep into enemy territory and struck at the very heart of the rebel stronghold. But gradually something felt wrong. They seemed to have been swallowed up by a vast ocean of ordinary people. What had come over the common folk here? Had they simply stopped fearing guns and cannon?
*What in damnation had those wretched scoundrels promised these lowly rabble and slaves?*
And there was a nagging sense that other hands were stirring the pot from behind the scenes. The Germans? The French? Or perhaps those big-nosed lot?
The hunter who spends his days shooting geese may yet find himself pecked to death by one.
If North America actually won its independence, it would be cause for universal celebration! Losing North America would strip the empire of twenty percent of its strength, and when battlefield attrition was added on top of that, the losses would cut even deeper. A British Empire trimmed by a quarter would still be the mightiest power on earth — its blows would still land hard — but its aura of invincibility would be gone forever.
The affair in North America rang alarm bells among the great powers. Some slowed the development of new colonies and began tightening their grip on those they already held. Even the pace of territorial seizure slackened.
When all was said and done, the North American rebellion came down to two things: exploitation pushed too far, and a loosening of control. You sent a wave of people over there, then forgot about them, waiting year after year for the great ships to come home laden with goods. Had anyone spared a thought for how the colonists felt? Even if the first generation remained loyal to the empire, what of the second generation born on colonial soil? The third?
Treating the colonies as nothing more than a source of raw materials to plunder and a market in which to dump goods, with no investment in genuine development, left the local population growing poorer by the year. Everyone is human. The common folk at the bottom had no recourse, but the local leaders, and certainly those second and third generations, could only grow more and more resentful.
And while the great powers had initially overwhelmed the colonies with a display of seemingly invincible force, time had a way of changing perceptions. People eventually came to realize: *there's nothing so special about them — we're all the same kind of creature. They just have rifles and cannon. Hand those to me, and I'll use them just as well.*
Beyond that, the events in North America had planted a seed in the hearts of people everywhere. Sooner or later, those seeds would sprout.
If the British Empire could not crush this rebellion swiftly, darker days lay ahead.
---
The five-party talks were about to begin, and the venue was naturally Dragon City — for Dragon City had issued the invitations. The Northern Court, the Central Court, the Southern Court, and the Southwestern Court had all been summoned. And so the leading figures of each faction duly arrived.
---
A special building had been constructed specifically for the five-party conference, designed to project an image of perfect equality among all parties.
The conference hall had five grand entrances and five distinct wings — it felt like five three-story buildings joined together to form a pentagonal structure. At the center sat the great assembly chamber, which could seat over a hundred people. The conference table in the middle was shaped like a five-pointed star, with five seats along each side.
Every detail of the furnishings was identical throughout, a deliberate testament to fairness and equal standing.
The Ming Emperor: *Fairness?*
Li Xuanzong: *You call this equality?*
Li Xuanji sat with a blank expression.
Twelve-year-old Manggultai's mind was wandering somewhere far away. *Brother Mingming promised to take me out to play today. This meeting is so boring. When will it ever end?*
All four emperors had donned their yellow robes, and the way each man eyed the others was distinctly unsettled — the sight was more than a little jarring. Wasn't that garment supposed to be worn by one person alone? Yet here were four sets of imperial yellow, their wearers sitting together in apparent calm, drinking tea and making conversation. Truly a spectacle without precedent.
Each delegation had only five chairs; everyone else had to make do with seats along the walls at the back. Beside each emperor sat four attendants.
Beside Li Xuanji, for instance, Wen Jingran and Lin Zhenghui flanked him left and right, while the remaining two seats were filled by Dragon City officials assigned to handle the finer points of negotiation. The young emperor Manggultai had all four attendant seats filled by Dragon City personnel, who merely wore the court dress of his dynasty. Only the Ming Emperor and Li Xuanzong had brought their own genuine representatives.
Ming Wu, dressed in a black Zhongshan suit, settled into his seat and spoke: "Today is an auspicious occasion. I hereby declare the five-party conference formally open."
The Ming Emperor shot him a sidelong glance. *Hmph. So this is what you call fairness? On what grounds do you get to be the one making declarations?*