Faustine ushers her sister into her room and closes the door behind her. She’s radiating excitement, so she takes a deep breath to settle herself. She carefully unfolds the clean parchment and passes it to Angel. “Regarding the treaty? I think I’ve got something. A meeting. Either here or in a neutral territory, and we can work out the terms of a stalemate with both rulers.”
She clears her throat. “I think they’d understand us wanting to meet here? I mean, they’re enhanced creatures. Though our recent technological and defensive advancements may be effective deterrents. Hmm.” She cuts herself off. “I’m sorry, Angel. Ranting again. We need to set a meeting up. It’s important that we initiate contact if we are to be seen as equals, rather than war trophies.”
The letter reflects her words, clearly and assertively requesting an in-person conclave with all three kingdoms. It requests that the parties bring reasonably minimal defensive equipment and a limited ensemble.