The broad granite terrace overlooking the turquoise waters of the Heavenly Mother River was bathed in golden afternoon sunlight.
For thousand years, whenever great treaties were ratified in the Azure Cloud Realm, the ceremonies were characterized by showy displays of royal might. Emperors erected hundred-foot golden pavilions lined with spear guards. Sect elders sat atop floating cloud-thrones surrounded by crackling lightning arrays. And hostage princes knelt in iron chains to guarantee rule-following. Every treaty was written in blood and kept through terror.
Today’s assembly was fully empty of royal pomp.
There were no golden thrones, no velvet canopies. No armored guards glaring at one another across barricades. Instead, arranged in a wide semicircle under the shade of ancient, freshly budded willows, were simple wooden benches crafted from fragrant cedar planks. On the low tables rested baked-clay cups of chilled melon tea, woven plates of roasted sweet potato cakes, and fresh watercress dumplings prepared by the safe hall’s kitchen squads.
Seated along the benches were the rulers of the known world: fourteen mortal emperors and kings, the grand elders of seven traditional sect confederacies, and the tribal chieftains of thirty-six mountain beast clans.
At the center of the terrace, resting comfortably upon a plump red silk cushion atop the main wooden table, was the supreme master builder of the land-wide salvation.
