Now that everyone had arrived and the alliance gifts had been accepted, it was time to formally sign the alliance treaty. Don't be fooled by how complicated the preparations had been or how grand the occasion was—the actual signing process was astonishingly quick.
Though the treaty text was as thick as a dictionary, Evenson and Ronan merely sat down, held it up before their faces, and flipped through it with one hand. With a swish, they finished reading it in under two seconds. Apparently, both were top students of the Quantum Speed-Reading Method.
Alliance treaties like this all had standard templates, so there was hardly any need to read them. Boiled down, their contents amounted to two sentences: if you fight someone, I'll decide whether to come help; if someone fights you, I'll decide whether to help you fight back.
It was that simple. There was absolutely no need to scrutinize the details, because this treaty was purely ceremonial and had roughly zero binding force. What truly mattered was profit. When interests aligned, even without a treaty, they were brothers from different mothers and fathers. When interests clashed, what good was a treaty? Sorry, do I know you?
Thus, the most time-consuming part of the signing process was the signatures. Ronan's side was simple enough; he wrote down several names and was done. But besides signing his name, Evenson poured out a large pile of exquisitely crafted seals with a swish.
He opened the contract, grabbed seals with both hands, and stamped them frantically—Heavenly Queen's Review Seal, Frigga's Imperial Brush, and all sorts of others. Ten pages of paper were not enough. Ronan stared blankly from across the table. Man, were you firing off barrage comments?
After stamping the final seal, Evenson wiped the sweat from his brow and flexed