than the other representatives, but
he spoke slowly and with great clarity.
“Ah! Ah, well then, splendid,” Gregol quickly
proclaimed.
A flurry of discussions and activity arose as
the individuals responsible for the smooth execution of this
journey clambered to adjust to this unanticipated change of plans.
Ether simply stepped up to the carriage, opened the door, and
climbed inside. When it became clear that he would require it, she
offered a hand to Maka and pulled him inside with ease.
“Driver, you may depart,” Ether instructed in
a raised voice.
“I am supposed to—” the unfortunate driver
began to reply, his voice muffled by the thick walls of the
carriage.
“Those individuals for which this tour was
designed and arranged are presently in your carriage. The other
drivers are aware of your itinerary. They shall meet us. Depart,”
she ordered.
The carriage jerked into motion.
“I admire your directness and pragmatism,”
Maka said, easing back into the overstuffed seats of the carriage.
“I have never understood why it is believed that great
understanding can only come from great numbers of people. Many
voices lead only to more confusion. This, two representatives
speaking as equals, this is the essence of diplomacy.”
“I am pleased that we agree on this matter,”
Ether said. “I was instructed to inform you that this carriage is a
fine example of the many trades and materials that have brought the
Northern Alliance great pride in the years since the war began. The
copper of the hardware is from the historic Grossmer Mines, the
leather is worked and dyed Alliance blue by skilled artisans, and
the wood is rock-pine felled from the base of the Dagger Gale
Mountains. At your feet is a basket of food, each a Northern
delicacy. You may partake as your appetite requires. It may also be
of value to you to know that this is my first and quite likely my
last instance as an ambassador.”
“This, may I say, does not come as a
surprise.”
“No?”
“There is a… a certain language a diplomat
uses. It is softened, smoothed. It has no edge, padded with bluster
and pomp. Many words are used, but little is said. You speak like a
blade hacking to the core. Also, what you have done, breaking with
arrangements agreed upon? This is something an ambassador would
never do.”
“I see. Then this is a profession defined by
rigid adherence to arbitrary customs.”
“Most definitely. Another man might have
refused the new arrangements, or perhaps terminated the whole of
the tour in outrage.”
“You feel no such outrage.”
“I am old, I am cold, and I am hungry,” he
said, opening the basket and looking over the contents. He selected
a small cloth pouch of dried fruit. “They will say their empty
words and come to their agreements in the other carriages. A
pleasant ride with a lovely woman sounds like a far preferable way
to spend this journey. Now, please, tell me about your land…”
#
Most of Myranda and Deacon’s first day in
Tressor was spent traveling. The first half of the day’s travels
had been through towns and fields that at one time or another had
been at the center of the fighting. While a century of warfare had
kept the front line remarkably consistent, this stretch of it still
wandered north and south a dozen miles or so depending on the
intensity and outcome of the battles. As a result, some towns
they’d passed through were being rebuilt for the dozenth time. The
same thing had happened all across the northern side of the border
as well, but Myranda had had a lifetime to adjust to it, and the
Northern Alliance was far less populous than Tressor. After it
became clear to the people that a city could not be reliably
defended, it was simply abandoned, even if it was a capital like
Kenvard. It said something about these people that they continued,
decade after decade, to take back the land and return to the life
they wanted to live.
The sun was setting by the time they were
beyond
he spoke slowly and with great clarity.
“Ah! Ah, well then, splendid,” Gregol quickly
proclaimed.
A flurry of discussions and activity arose as
the individuals responsible for the smooth execution of this
journey clambered to adjust to this unanticipated change of plans.
Ether simply stepped up to the carriage, opened the door, and
climbed inside. When it became clear that he would require it, she
offered a hand to Maka and pulled him inside with ease.
“Driver, you may depart,” Ether instructed in
a raised voice.
“I am supposed to—” the unfortunate driver
began to reply, his voice muffled by the thick walls of the
carriage.
“Those individuals for which this tour was
designed and arranged are presently in your carriage. The other
drivers are aware of your itinerary. They shall meet us. Depart,”
she ordered.
The carriage jerked into motion.
“I admire your directness and pragmatism,”
Maka said, easing back into the overstuffed seats of the carriage.
“I have never understood why it is believed that great
understanding can only come from great numbers of people. Many
voices lead only to more confusion. This, two representatives
speaking as equals, this is the essence of diplomacy.”
“I am pleased that we agree on this matter,”
Ether said. “I was instructed to inform you that this carriage is a
fine example of the many trades and materials that have brought the
Northern Alliance great pride in the years since the war began. The
copper of the hardware is from the historic Grossmer Mines, the
leather is worked and dyed Alliance blue by skilled artisans, and
the wood is rock-pine felled from the base of the Dagger Gale
Mountains. At your feet is a basket of food, each a Northern
delicacy. You may partake as your appetite requires. It may also be
of value to you to know that this is my first and quite likely my
last instance as an ambassador.”
“This, may I say, does not come as a
surprise.”
“No?”
“There is a… a certain language a diplomat
uses. It is softened, smoothed. It has no edge, padded with bluster
and pomp. Many words are used, but little is said. You speak like a
blade hacking to the core. Also, what you have done, breaking with
arrangements agreed upon? This is something an ambassador would
never do.”
“I see. Then this is a profession defined by
rigid adherence to arbitrary customs.”
“Most definitely. Another man might have
refused the new arrangements, or perhaps terminated the whole of
the tour in outrage.”
“You feel no such outrage.”
“I am old, I am cold, and I am hungry,” he
said, opening the basket and looking over the contents. He selected
a small cloth pouch of dried fruit. “They will say their empty
words and come to their agreements in the other carriages. A
pleasant ride with a lovely woman sounds like a far preferable way
to spend this journey. Now, please, tell me about your land…”
#
Most of Myranda and Deacon’s first day in
Tressor was spent traveling. The first half of the day’s travels
had been through towns and fields that at one time or another had
been at the center of the fighting. While a century of warfare had
kept the front line remarkably consistent, this stretch of it still
wandered north and south a dozen miles or so depending on the
intensity and outcome of the battles. As a result, some towns
they’d passed through were being rebuilt for the dozenth time. The
same thing had happened all across the northern side of the border
as well, but Myranda had had a lifetime to adjust to it, and the
Northern Alliance was far less populous than Tressor. After it
became clear to the people that a city could not be reliably
defended, it was simply abandoned, even if it was a capital like
Kenvard. It said something about these people that they continued,
decade after decade, to take back the land and return to the life
they wanted to live.
The sun was setting by the time they were
beyond
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