The Poppy War (The Poppy War #1) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,127

Federation soldiers so closely resembled her own people. She would have preferred a faceless, monstrous enemy, or one that was entirely foreign, like the pale-haired Hesperians across the sea.

“What are your terms?” Jun asked.

“Our general requests a cease-fire for the next forty-eight hours while we meet to negotiate conditions of surrender,” said the head delegate. He indicated the wagon. “We know your city has been unable to import spices since the fighting began. We bring an offering of salt and sugar. A gesture of our goodwill.” The delegate placed his hand on the lid of the closest chest. “May I?”

Altan gave a nod of permission. The delegates pulled up the lids, displaying heaps of white and caramel crystals that glistened in the afternoon sun.

“Eat it,” suggested Jun.

The delegate cocked his head. “Pardon?”

“Taste the sugar,” Jun said. “So we know you’re not trying to poison us.”

“That would be a terribly inefficient way of conducting warfare,” said the delegate.

“Even so.”

Shrugging, the delegate obliged Jun’s request. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Not poison.”

Jun licked his finger, stuck it in the chest of sugar, and tipped it into his mouth. He swilled it around in his mouth, and seemed disappointed when he couldn’t detect traces of any other material.

“Only sugar,” said the delegate.

“Excellent,” the Ox Warlord said. “Bring these to the mess hall.”

“No,” said Altan quickly. “Leave it out here. We’ll distribute this in the town square. A small amount for every household.”

He met the Ox Warlord’s eyes with a level gaze, and Rin realized why he’d said it. If the rations were brought to the mess hall, the divisions would immediately fight over distribution of resources. Altan had tied the Warlords’ hands by designating the rations for the people.

In any case, a trickle of Khurdalaini civilians had already begun to gather around the wagon in curiosity. Salt and sugar had been sorely missed since the siege began. Rin suspected that if the Warlords confiscated the trunks for military use, the people would riot.

The Ox Warlord shrugged. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Altan looked warily about the square. Given the ranks of Militia soldiers present, a large crowd of civilians had deemed it safe to form around the three delegates. Rin saw such open hostility in their eyes that she didn’t doubt they would tear the Mugenese apart if the Militia didn’t intervene.

“We will continue this negotiation in a private office,” Altan suggested. “Away from the people.”

The delegate inclined his head. “As you like.”

“The Emperor Ryohai is impressed with the resistance at Khurdalain,” said the delegate. His tone was clipped and courteous, despite his words. “Your people have fought well. The Emperor Ryohai would like to extend his compliments to the people of Khurdalain, who have proven themselves a stronger breed than the rest of this land of sniveling cowards.”

Jun translated to the Warlords. The Ox Warlord rolled his eyes.

“Let’s skip ahead to the part where you surrender,” said Altan.

The delegate raised an eyebrow. “Alas, the Emperor Ryohai has no intentions of abandoning his designs on the Nikara continent. Expansion onto the continent is the divine right of the glorious Federation of Mugen. Your provincial government is weak and fragile. Your technology is centuries behind that of the west. Your isolation has set you behind while the rest of the world develops. Your demise was only a matter of time. This landmass belongs to a country that can propel it into the next century.”

“Did you come here just to insult us?” Jun demanded. “Not a wise way to surrender.”

The delegate’s lip curled. “We came only to discuss surrender. The Emperor Ryohai has no desire to punish the people of Khurdalain. He admires their fighting spirit. He says that your resilience has proven worthy of the Federation. He adds also that the people of Khurdalain would make excellent subjects to the Federation crown.”

“Ah,” said Jun. “This is that kind of negotiation.”

“We do not want to destroy this town,” said the delegate. “This is an important port. A hub of international trade. If Khurdalain lays down its arms, then the Emperor Ryohai will consider this city a territory of the Federation, and we will not lay a finger on a single man, woman, or child. All citizens will be pardoned, on the condition that they swear allegiance to the Emperor Ryohai.”

“Pause,” said Altan. “You’re asking us to surrender to you?”

The delegate inclined his head. “These are generous terms. We know how Khurdalain struggles under occupation. Your people are starving. Your supplies will only last you a few