“How do you feel?” John asked the Technomancer once they had arrived in the hotel that doubled as the Amacat headquarters. They had bypassed the press as quickly as possible and gotten into the protective embrace of the lobby. Although Scarlett had stopped crying and since eaten at least some food, it would be false to describe the androgynous beauty as healthy looking. Gaunt would be the proper word.

“Empty,” Scarlett responded in an exhausted tone. “I think I am reasonable again, but now I just feel equally tired and… don’t know, like a calm pond but the underwater side of the surface? Can’t even muster the energy to feel annoyed by it, even though I know it fucking sucks.”

“Alright… Gnome?” The soil elemental manifested next to them and already seemed to know what he wanted from her, given that she walked up to Scarlett immediately. “Do take her to the presidential suite, where we stayed last time.” He just trusted that it was available and that the person overseeing the reception desk knew better than to ignore a request from John Newman. “I’ll come and look after you as soon as we get done here, alright?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Scarlett cussed at him with as much energy as she could muster. “I have a place at that table, you need me…” She trailed off, that surge of enthusiasm clearly waning quickly after she had made the mere basis of her point.

“I need you,” John confirmed, gently pushing her towards Gnome. “But not for this and not in this state. Trust me, I can handle this.” He brushed back some of her hair and smiled. “You concentrate on getting better.”

She appeared unwilling about this for a few more seconds, before slumping against Gnome and sighing. “Okay,” she simply confirmed. “Yeah… I won’t be of any help in this state…” Mumbling that, Scarlett was guided away by Gnome. The soil elemental was the right mixture of patient, caring and cuddly that she should be able to fill whatever the Technomancer needed filled in the coming hours.

Once the lift’s doors closed behind them, John breathed a bit easier. Although it was true that he would have appreciated Scarlett’s presence at the peace talk, he was a skilled negotiator himself. Not that, with their position, it took someone brilliant at that task to finalize the things as they were. It was her surveillance powers that he would really miss until she had recovered. He had gotten quite used to having her ability to instantly scan the net around.

The chances for anything bad to happen in her short absence were minimal. ‘Don’t jinx it for yourself,’ John thought as he made a mental note to inform himself again on how to properly deal with the drop. Preferably in the most preventive fashion possible. With all of that handled, he turned to the walkway right of the entrance.

Seconds and thirds in command were already crowding the lobby, keeping a respectful distance to the Gamer. The atmosphere was almost thick enough to cut with a knife. Lake Alliance and Fusion forces were all waiting for him to take the lead. Veiled hostility and uncertainty mixed into a dangerous concoction. Now it was John’s decision whether he wanted to throw a lit match into the powder keg or spill so much water on it there was no chance in hell it could blow up.

At least, unlike other parts of the Abyss (particularly the American one), the gathered officials weren’t entirely made up of fighters. Dealing with consolidated organizations meant that others than those that could beat their way to the top could rise through the ranks. People with specialization in intel gathering magic or just plain old diplomats may not have been able to rise to the top of a guild, but they could at least be more than grunts that got squashed in the power struggles.

Even as it was, the Lake Alliance’s will to fight must have been at an all time low. Their strongest fighter was dead, while John came in apparently unharmed, unbothered, and surrounded by his usual clique minus one elemental that just vanished in the elevator. In trying to break his will to fight, they had hurt themselves much more than they had bargained for.

John bowed down to Eliza and whispered in her ear, “If it wasn’t for you, I couldn’t do this. Lakamun would have destroyed much of the Guild Hall and, with him alive, this peace talk would never have happened.” He scratched the back of her head and she let out some sort of oddly pleased noise, close to the cooing of a pigeon. “You did good, Eliza.”

“Are you absolutely fucking sure you want to encourage me ripping people’s spines out through their mouths?” the blood mage asked. “Because that’s what you’re doing when you say I did good for absolutely ending some asshole, you couch potato sack of gaming shit.”

“It would have been preferable if he could have lived, from a moral perspective,” John summarized his thoughts on the matter. “On a practical level, him dying means we can end the war sooner and that preserves the lives of more common people. I don’t like exchanging lives, but there is an argument to be made that this is the best course of action.”

“Ya two can keep flirting after we’re done with this,” Rave decided. “I wanna be somewhere else. Weather is good at home. Let’s get this over with.” In response, John put an arm around her and led the way of his procession.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he raised his voice as he walked over the red carpet parting the two factions. To the right, Ahanu, Elu, Chemilia and Ted were the most prominent faces. To the left, he only recognized Theron and Leslek, although the blonde elf by their side must have been Remia. Notably, he didn’t see Jeremiah. Marie stood a bit aside from everything and was watching with interest. “Let’s make peace,” he declared and led the way into the negotiation room.

Calling it that was slightly dishonest. In reality, it was the main room of Amacat’s restaurant. Cleared out for the occasion, the tables were arranged in a large, three-segmented circle. There were three tables for the Lake Alliance, one for each of its sub-guilds, and four tables for Fusion, delegated to John, Ahanu, Chemilia and Scarlett respectively. Standing isolated was the one table for the Illuminati.

They were holding this conference in the restaurant, rather than one of the many, many actual conference rooms, by design of the Gamer. John much preferred the greatly decorated restaurant. The creamy brown colour of the walls, the light of the chandelier, the dark red curtains, the white plaster of the ceiling, shaped into flowers, flowing around paintings. It all evoked the feeling of a palace built during the Enlightenment. As a side bonus, it was also more than big enough to leave room to all the advisors that attended along the leaders. Theoretically, there was also enough room for the journalists. John had opted to keep them out of the actual negotiations. Once the thing was getting signed, or notably not signed, they were going to be let in.

Everyone took their seats. Be it on the repurposed, round restaurant tables or the rows of chairs behind them. The only person on their side that John already knew was Remia, being present as the apparent leader of the Heart of the Lakes. The Lower Lake Guilds were represented by some tired looking man, with Leslek standing behind him. Niagara, the guild that Jeremiah belonged to, had a moment of struggle where nobody wanted to take the seat. Finally, some man gathered the balls to just plop down. Once there, he immediately seemed to regret that decision, but it was too late.

“As a means of starting,” John started things off in a friendly, almost casual tone, “I would have liked for everyone to introduce themselves. Before we get to that, however,” his wandering gaze stopped at the green-haired punk, “sit down.”

That he was the only guy standing irked John. It felt like a disrespectful gesture. Whether it was or not, the Gamer wasn’t going to take the chance. He would much rather be seen as an overly stern host than a weak one. “What’s it to you?!” Leslek barked back and only hardened John’s resolve that way.

Before he could start the natural chain of calm request, debate, threat and, if all else failed, violence, the man sitting in front of Leslek turned his head and simply echoed John’s request. “Sit down.” Thus confronted by his own side, the punk took two steps back and claimed an empty chair.

John mustered the leader of the Lower Lake Guilds with more interest. He was a middle-aged fellow. At least he looked the part. Dark, sandy blonde hair of medium length was combed properly, a few grey streaks running through. His face had quite a few wrinkles, but was attractive, objectively speaking. The stubby beard that covered his square jaw helped. Overall, he had the look of a grizzled police veteran. Which meant the suit also fit him well. John had no idea who he was and decided to take the risk of using Observe. Under the current circumstances, it was quite minimal.

For someone who was supposedly afraid of what John had just done, Emrik hid it supremely well. He just glanced in John’s direction for more than a standard look, then moved his attention elsewhere. His face stayed still the entire time.

‘That one could be a problem in the long run,’ John realized. ‘Last thing I can use is clever people as my enemies. Particularly the kind that know to keep themselves low.’ There was no reason to worry or dwell about that at the current moment, so he moved on. “Thank you. Let’s continue then. I would like the people of my faction to introduce themselves first. Then those of the Lake Alliance. Finally, the Illuminati will state their reason for being here. Does anyone take issue with this?”

Nothing was raised, so John led by example and continued speaking. “I am John Newman, I am the leader of the Federation of Fusion. Aside from the Federation as a whole, I also represent the areas of and around New York, owned by Fusion, and the areas formerly known as the Small Lake Pact.” He gestured at the empty chair to his right, between himself and Chemilia. “Scarlett Evelith cannot attend today due to medical issues. It’s nothing serious, but it stopped her regardless. Because sickness befell her so suddenly, we have no replacement.”

The silent part was that none was needed or wanted either. By no party. Ever since he had ‘liberated’ the capitalists from their political obligations, they were very happy to stay out of those chairs and just lobby a few people to do all of the negotiation work for them.

“I am Ahanu, my tribal name has been relinquished for the time being,” the Hidden Tradition’s leader announced himself. Like always, he preferred a suit with a bowtie over things that may be usually affiliated with the indigenous people. This didn’t stop his genetics from being what they were, however. His long face and oiled, long black hair had all the markings of the typical native. The leather band wrapped around his forehead tied the entire look together into somewhat of a fitting package. “I hope we ensure peace and prosperity for everyone. In the name of the Hidden Tradition, I swear that no tyranny shall come of these negotiations.”

John gave the young leader (not quite as young as himself, to be fair) a surprised glance. He hadn’t expected anything aside from attendance from the Hidden Tradition. Looking back with a smile, it was quite clear that Ahanu hadn’t said that out of any ill will or fear. He was just stating his principles. Which was all fair, the Hidden Tradition had joined on the conditions of high autonomy and that Fusion would be a force for the better of its people. Elu, sitting behind Ahanu, nodded approvingly.

“Chemilia Smith, General of Fusion and leader of the temporary military government of the Little Maryland,” the pink-haired soldier introduced herself in a short manner, passing the ball onto the opposite side.

“Remia of the Heart of the Lakes.” The elf sounded almost bored, and while everyone waited for her to continue, remained silent. Instead, she smoothed over some wrinkle in the table sheets with her fingernails.

“Emrik Telford,” the same eventually spoke up, his voice deep and charismatic. “Newly appointed head of the Lower Lake Guilds. I will be the main negotiator for our side.”

“H-heiko,” the last guy stammered, and it was already clear he wouldn’t have a big presence in these talks. “Representing N-niagara.”

‘That’s the man I talked to for arranging this meeting,’ Aclysia mentally informed her master.

‘Our luck then, it would have been quite a bit harder to push Emrik around, I imagine,’ John thought and looked over to the last person that had to introduce herself.

“Marie Damocles, I attend zhis meeting in the name of the Illuminati,” she smoothly entered the stage. “My purpose, aside from being the neutral observer of these talks, is to apologize, disavow and make amends for the actions of the Horned Rat during the events of yesterday’s battle. My guild has no interest in partaking in the affairs of smaller organizations halfway across the globe. Regardless, it was our patron god that caused trouble and it would be beneath us to not take responsibility.”

The leader of Niagara was visibly more at ease after hearing that. If John had the proper backing of the Illuminati, there would have been no need for any of this. He could have rolled over them and much of the continent without experiencing meaningful opposition if the Horned Rat was with him. Right up until the point when Krieg intervened and smashed everything he had built. The other two leaders of the Lake Alliance didn’t let their feelings show.

John grabbed the reins of the negotiations again. Not too difficult a task, since everyone was expecting him to do that. “You can negotiate what the Illuminati should give in return in private after this is over, or right here after we are done. Whatever you are more comfortable with.” He underlined the almost joking words with a nice smile and benevolent gesture. “I don’t think we will have to talk about things for too long. My list of demands is rather short. I need to ask just one question before I present the most important one,” John stared into Emrik’s dark green eyes. “Where is Jeremiah?”