Second Treaty of Beaconsfield, ending the Second Canadian/American War

[Prydania]

OOC:
Any representative from any party involved in the War Plan Red story can attend.

IC:
Erik Destler, the Empire's Minister of Foreign Affairs, puffed on his fag, and leaned back in his char.
The room was nicely furnished. Cherry wood lined the floor and walls, a portrait of HIM George VII hung behind the head chair, where Prime Minister Crofts would be sitting.
He looked over the terms of peace.
"Generous" he thought.
True, the PI armies weren't strong enough to actually threaten the DSA proper, but some sort of concession should be granted, for an other year of death due to DS arrogance.
Yet all Crofts insisted on offering was the status quo ante bellum.

"If it keeps them from trying this again in five years at least...." Destler though to himself.
The room was empty. Crofts and the Emperor were out doing the diplomatic thing, meeting arriving representatives and such.

"Hello Erik"
Destler looked up.
"Field Marshal, hello!"

The Duke of Devonshire entered, wearing the dress uniform of a Field Marshal, having recently been promoted due to the death of Andrew Theriot.
"So is it Field Marshal Wellington or Field Marshal Devonshire?" Destler asked, referring to the Duke's given name of Ian Wellington.
"I don't really know" he answered.
"We never had that problem with Andrew", Theriot not having been born into nobility.

"I suppose I'll go by whichever name catches on first."
"Who's arrived?
"No one so far, but word has it you invited our Confederate friends to observe?"
"Yes."
"I rather doubt the Yanks will like that."
"I don't give two shits" Destler flatly answered.
"They forced an other year of death upon us, for no real reason at all. A war that took the life of the finest military man this country has produced in that last century."
"True enough" Wellington replied.

"Well at least Andrew will be buried during peace time, assuming the Yanks agree to these generous terms and go home to their wretched country."
"They damn well better" Wellington answered.
"I didn't lose a thousand men in the trenches outside of Winnipeg for the Americans to spit in the face of a draw."
"They know, I'm just worried they'll try to pull for something that lets them save face."
"Bloody hell...." Wellington said, half to himself.

[Aquatoria]

Lord Protector Xavier Rommel got out of his car. He rather liked Beaconsfield because of it's culture and majesty. But right now, he had business. This was where the military ended and politics began. But this time, the Americans are going to walk away worse than ever. He was dressed in a blue Prussian uniform that his army had all atrated to wear. though he hadn't been in uniform in five years, he felt confident in it. As he walked up the steps to the conference room, there in front of him were Prime Minister Crofts and Emperor William. Rommel bowed to the Emperor and shook Crofts hand.

Rommel didn't want to speak because he needed every bit of his strength to get the Americans to not only surrender but to do what the Emperor of Canada said. Crofts showed him to the conference hall and he took a seat in the chair with the Canadian flag near it. He sat there and pulled out a folder and opened it. It said the words that Rommel has been using for some time, from his military days to now. Never give an inch. I don't plan to.