A Small Dispute

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1

Vilkirch, Talusi
1330 Hours, February 21st, 3757 AA (2020 AD)

In the conference room, Arnulf II paced impatiently to and fro. “He was supposed to be here by now!” Arnulf exclaimed, turning towards Jon VII, who was calmly sitting down.

“I expected this, to be honest. Your nations have never been on good terms, given the three wars and multiple border skirmishes within only the last century, so this is probably spite on his part,” Jon replied, keeping his voice level.

In truth, he was starting to get impatient also. Adolar III was supposed to have arrived half an hour ago, but there was no sign of him yet. Perhaps he’s not even coming, Jon thought. The thought wasn’t surprising, Talusi and Hausberg have essentially been in a cold war since the end of the 2nd Talusian-Reiktic War in 1966. Even before that, there was the 1st Talusian-Reiktic War from 1934-1936, the Talusian War for Independence 1909-1917, and numerous border skirmishes between the two. Despite their common ethnicity, language, religion, Talusi and Hausberg despised each other.

Five months ago, another skirmish and diplomatic conflict arose over multiple islands which used to belong to the Reiktic Empire but had been lost as the Empire declined. Hausberg claimed that as the legal successor to the Reiktic Empire, the islands belonged to them, despite the Reiktic Empire having lost control of them 30 years before the Empire was formally disolved. Talusi, fearing that Hausberg might build military bases on the island, also claimed the islands. For months on end, the two nations were in a political deadlock. But In a surprising turn of events, a month ago the two nations managed to come to an agreement to have a foreign power arbitrate the dispute, choosing to have the Kaiser of Asendavia, Jon VII, solve the issue.

Fearing that another war might break out if he refused, Jon VII reluctantly agreed to arbitrate the dispute, also providing security for the meeting. Now however, Hausberg’s Adolar III was thirty minutes late, with no sign of him in sight. Jon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “He’ll come, I doubt he wants a war to break out, but as for when he’s going to arrive, who knows?” Jon commented.

“I hope you’re correct,” Arnulf gruffly replied.

Just then, a tremulous knock came from the door.

“Come in,” Arnulf called out.

The door opened slightly and and aide poked their head through. “Your Majesty,” the aide began, “I’ve received word that Adolar III’s private jet has landed at the airport, he should be here in less than half an hour.”

Arnulf nodded. “Excellent, you may go now.”

The aide quickly nodded and left as quickly as they came, nearly slamming the door behind them.

“See, it looks like I was right, Arnulf. Now please, sit down, we still have a bit to wait,” Jon motioned toward a chair.

“Yes, yes, but the real question is, did he come here to waste time, or is he willing to go through with this?” Arnulf asked as he sat down in one of the leather chairs.

“All we can do is hope and see,” Jon responded.

“I hope the bastard gets here soon,” Arnulf muttered beneath his breath.

Both men straightened their posture and set their gazes toward the door. Soon, Adolar III would arrive, and the meeting would finally begin.

2

Vilkirch, Talusi
1409 Hours, February 21st, 3757 AA (2020 AD)

One hour and nine minutes after he was supposed to have arrived, Adolar III’s entourage reached the palace, stopping briefly at the gates for a quick security check before heading inside. Slowly, the cars came to a stop outside the front doors. Back inside, Jon VII and Arnulf II received news of his arrival and prepared both the conference room and themselves. A few minutes later, the conference room doors quickly opened, with Adolar III’s security guards rushing in and positioning themselves around the doors. Moments later, Adolar III strutted into the room, a fake smile plastered on his face. Seating himself as far away from Arnulf II as the table allowed him, Adolar III kicked up his feet and leaned back.

“My sincerest apologies for my tardiness, gentlemen. I had very important things to deal with back in Hausberg, I assure you,” he spoke in a haughty tone, smirking all the while.

Jon VII leaned forward, cutting off the fuming Arnulf II who was about to shout at Adolar, “I thought we agreed that I would be the only one providing the security here.”

Adolar III shrugged. “I didn’t think your security would be sufficient for my protection, therefore I decided to bring some of my own.”

Jon VII closed his eyes and deeply inhaled and exhaled. Opening his eyes, he fixed his gaze again on Adolar III. “I do not see much point to this conference if you’re already infringing upon what was agreed. If you insist upon continuing your childish insolence, I will walk out of this room right now with my security and head back to Asendavia. Need there be a 3rd Talusian-Reiktic War? If another war does break out, perhaps Asendavia should get involved, the military has been aching for another conflict recently.”

Adolar III’s smirk faltered, and with his smirk faltering, his confident facade was shattered. He sullenly took his feet off the table and sat upright, his attention fixed on Jon VII. “No, no, it’s alright. I’ll take my security out,” he signaled for them to leave and his guards all filed out of the room, soflty closing the doors behind them.

With the guards gone, silence pervaded the room for a few moments before a calmed Arnulf II broke it. “With that out of the way, may we properly begin this now?”

Jon VII nodded and stood up. “Yes, yes, let’s try and make this quick, gentlemen, I don’t want this to last longer than need be,” he paused momentarily to take a rolled up map out of his pocket and unroll it on the conference table for all to see.


“This, as both of you are well aware, is the disputed area between your two nations. For over 300 years, this area was part of the Reiktic Empire. By 1873, the Reiktic Empire completely lost control of the islands here. Ever since then, each island has largely been self-governing, with occasional attempts from both of your nations to reestablish hegemony over the islands. At the end of the 2nd Talusian-Reiktic War in 1966, part of the peace treaty stipulated that both Hausberg and Talusi would renounce their claims over the islands. Recently however, your nation,” Jon fixed his gaze on Adolar, "has once again claimed these islands, effectively breaking the terms that were agreed to in the peace treaty. As a result, Talusi, "Jon looked at Arnulf, "has also claimed the islands. Since neither of you are willing to renounce your claims currently, I would like each of you to present your case on why your specific nation should have the islands.

“After your cases have been presented to me, and no arguing or talking over each other please, I will attempt to come up with an amicable solution that will satisfy both of you. I will allow both of you as much time as you need, but if either of you attempt to stall and waste our time here, I will consider this conference to be over and leave both of you to solve it yourselves. Now, if there are no questions, I’ll let His Majesty Adolar III speak first,” Jon VII looked first at Arnulf, and then at Adolar, neither spoke up. “Alright then. Adolar, you may speak,” Jon VII sat back down.

Adolar III stood up and cleared his throat. “Well, it all began in 1514 when the Reiktic Empire under Otmar IV sent out an expedition to claim the largest of the islands, known as Kadur. This island was to be used as a launching off point for further military expeditions. Most notably was its role in the Reiktic Empire’s failed invasion of southwestern Atlantia. Eventually, the rest of the islands around it were also claimed, and settlers were sent to them, all the while the natives were being displaced from the area. These settlers mostly came from the area of modern-day Hausberg. Moving further in history, the islands were eventually…”

3

Vilkirch, Talusi
2148 Hours, February 21st, 3757 AA (2020 AD)

After nearly eight hours of debating and trying to come up with a compromise, the three men hadn’t come up with anything. Any suggestions to split the islands between the two nations were fervently denied by Adolar III, while others to simply leave the islands as neutral territories were rejected by both sides. Jon VII rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. It was only 9:48 PM, but over 7 and a half hours of listening to these two argue and reject compromises he had come up with had drained him. Right now, Arnulf and Adolar were arguing over the cultural history of the islands and whether they were more closely related to Talusi or Hasuberg, a moot point since the two and Hausberg themselves were already nearly culturally identical, as loath as they might be to admit it. Abruptly, Jon VII stood up, interrupting the two’s argument.

“Your majesties,” he began, “While I appreciate your willingness to debate the issue, I believe we should turn in for the night. If I had known in advance that this would take so long, I would have asked you quite a bit ago to arrange some rooms for us and our entourages. Nonetheless, do you think you can manage keeping us here tonight? I’m sure my head of security can quickly work out the arrangements with whomever you have in charge of that here.”

Adolar III bristled at the idea, quickly speaking before Arnulf had a chance to. “I dislike the notion of having to stay the night here. I doubt this barbarian,” he gestured toward Arnulf, “could or even would want to keep me safe here.”

Arnulf’s nostrils flared and he began to shout. “Barbarian!? Your ancestors were flinging shit at each other at the same time that mine were at their prime!”

“And you’ve only gone downhill since! Tell me, what were your mother’s thoughts when she killed herself? ‘Thank Ademar I’ll never see my worthless piece-of-shit son again!’” Adolar snapped back.

An ineffable fury contorted Arnulf’s face as he snapped. He knocked his chair over as he stood up and lunged toward Adolar, only stopped by one of Jon’s Ursine guards who blocked Arnulf with his massive body and forced him to sit back down.

Jon was utterly disgusted. “The both of you are grown adults, fucking act like it! I don’t think I’ve ever see anything more childish in my God-damned life! I can’t even describe how much you two disgust me right now! Both of your nations speak the same language, you share a common history, your cultures are practically identical, Ademarism unites you both, and yet both despises the other! Why!? Yes, both of your nations have had long histories of fighting, but the fighting’s been done for nearly 60 years! For the sake of Ademar, let the dead rest for once in your miserable lives!” Jon stood up and walked toward the conference room doors, stopping in front of them. “I’m considering this conference finished. I’ll be flying to Masceola and staying there for a few days. Once both of you have calmed down enough to act like civilized men, if that’s even possible anymore, perhaps we can start anew. I’ll give both of you until the 26th. Let it be known though, that if a 3rd Talusian-Reiktic War begins, Asendavia shall not stay neutral.” Jon turned and addressed his security guards. “Two of you, escort his majesty Adolar III to his own security entourage. After that, immediately head back to our cars, we’re leaving. The rest of you, we’re going back to the cars right now,” Jon rudely opened the doors and strolled out, leaving both disgraced monarchs behind him.

4

Hakoinen Palace, Masceola
0713 Hours, February 25th, 3757 AA (2020 AD)

Jon VII stood in one of Hakoinen Palace’s many courtyards, enjoying a cup of black coffee. For the past three days, he had gotten up at the crack of dawn, waiting, hoping to receive a message from either Talusi or Hausberg, but no such message had come from either nation. He took a sip from his cup and watched the birds fly from tree to tree, going about their own business.

“What I would give, to be a bird,” Jon mused to himself. “No responsibilities, no worries, no thoughts more complex than when my next meal is going to be, they are truly free. Their whole life, from the moment they are born, is about survival and spreading their seed. Oh what I would give, to fly amongst the birds.”

He spent a few more minutes watching the birds as he drank his coffee, until an aide stepped out into the courtyard and called out to him. “Your Imperial Majesty,” the aide rang out, “you have a call from Duke Viktor III, he wishes to speak with you.”

Jon took one last sip from his cup before laying it on the table next to him and heading inside with the aide. Once inside, he quickly headed to his personal quarters, where he had directed all of his calls to be taken to. In his office, he took the phone from a servant’s hands and politely dismissed them. Once he was alone, he began. “What is it, Viktor?”

“I wanted to know how the conference was coming along. You told me you were going to be in Masceola for a few days, so I assumed that you might have moved the conference to there,” Viktor replied, his voice crackling slightly.

“Yeah, no. The conference ended on the 21st, the same day it began. First off, Adolar III was well over an hour late, and when he did arrive, he was acting like an insolent child, until I snapped at him. Afterwards, it proceeded normally, as normal as can be at least for two nations that despise each other. I had them present their arguments to me, and afterwards I was attempting and failing to come up with a compromise that suited both of them. Hasuberg wanted all of the islands and wouldn’t budge, while Talusi was a bit more willing to split the disputed territories in half. Either way, they spent so long arguing that I thought I was going mad. It started getting a bit late, so I suggested that we turn in for the night, and long story short, it devolved into an insult match between the two. I called the conference to an end right there and told them that they would have until the 26th to calm down and restart the conference, but neither Adolar nor Arnulf have called me since and I’m starting to think that another war might break out, despite my threats to intervene if one does occur,” Jon divulged.

The other end of the call was silent for a few moments before Viktor audibly sighed and responded. “Well, that could have been handed more tactfully. Mostly on their side, but on yours also. Hell, I understand your frustration there, but you probably shouldn’t have threatened to intervene like that. Then again, I don’t know the leaders of Hasuberg and Talusi that well, so I suppose it is quite possible you may have prevented a war. Either way, I suppose you should just wait, they might wait until the last second to call you. Or… actually, maybe you should call them first instead of waiting for them. Yeah, try and offer them something that will be sure to make them come back.”

“What the hell am I supposed to offer them, though? I don’t think I can offer them a solution anymore, they hate each other straight down to the core, and I don’t even get why!” Jon exclaimed, exasperated.

“I have a somewhat crazy idea, but just hear me out on it. Give the territory to both of them. Don’t split it up between them, instead, have them jointly rule the islands, like a condominium!”

“Are you kidding? They would never agree to that, they hate each other way too much for that to work.”

“Sure, sure, but what if you offered for Asendavia to jointly rule the islands alongside them? We can be the security and balancing force to make sure that neither one of them snaps.”

Jon paused, and a few heartbeats later he was grinning like a mad man. “Oh you beautiful bastard, that’s a great idea! I’ll make sure to contact them right away. First I need to see if they’ll agree, then we can come up with specifics later. I’m going to write some ideas down right now, see you in a few days, Viktor,” he hung up the phone and took out a small notepad and pen, jotting down various ideas.

Whether Talusi and Hausberg would agree to this was uncertain, but it was his best shot at preserving peace in the region.

5

Hakoinen Palace, Masceola
1227 Hours, February 27th, 3757 AA (2020 AD)

Jon VII waited for them in Hakoinen Palace’s central courtyard. A small army of Ursine bodyguards were scattered around the courtyard, sweltering underneath the cruel Masceolan sun. Jon VII had three bottles of akevitt with him, intended as gifts for Arnulf and Adolar when they arrived. The first to arrive was Arnulf II, touting his own squad of bodyguards.

Arnulf looked coolly at Jon. “I trust that your new solution brings peace, and quickly too, I’ve heard reports from my border that Hausberg has been mustering soldiers.”

“I’m confident that I shall. Please, sit down, we’re just waiting for Adolar now, just like last time,” Jon handed one of the bottles of akevitt to Arnulf, which was graciously accepted.

“So,” Arnulf began, “We all know how successful the last conference was, what makes you think that you have the solution this time?”

“Just wait, Arnulf,” Jon opened his bottle of akevitt and poured himself a small glass. “Please have a bit. Not too much though, we shouldn’t be too drunk when Adolar finally gets here,” he took a small sip from his glass.

Arnulf popped open his bottle and poured his own glass, taking a few careful sips. “I just hope he’s not as late as last time, he’s too arrogant for his own good.”

Jon nodded and signaled to one of his guards. “Go and find a servant and have them assemble a small food platter for three, we’re expecting Adolar III of Hausberg to arrive soon.”

Within a few minutes, the platter was assembled and sitting in the middle of the table as Jon and Arnulf chatted. Twenty minutes later, Adolar III finally arrived, also touting a squad of his own bodyguards.

“Greetings, your majesty. Come, come, enjoy this platter of food and akevitt with us,” Jon called out, a slight bit drunker than he likely should have been.

Adolar hesitantly approached the table, his bodyguards following him like a trail of puppies. He sat down next to Jon and opposite of Arnulf. “Are you two drunk?” he asked bluntly.

“A small bit, perhaps,” Arnulf answered, his face flush from the akevitt.

“Why not have some, Adolar? It’s quite good, you know. And if you won’t have the akevitt, sample from the platter!” Jon gestured at the unopened bottle of the akevitt and the platter of food in the middle of the table.

“I don’t want any of your food or drinks, I want this supposed solution that you’ve come up with,” Adolar demanded, pushing away the bottle of akevitt that was offered.

Jon tsked. “Oh, you sourpuss. Fine, fine,” Jon sat up straight and straightened his clothes. “It’s quite simple, really. You two just share the land.”

Adolar was incredulous. “THIS is your solution? We just… SHARE the land?!” Adolar stood up quickly, knocking over his chair in the process. “You’re either mad or too drunk to see that it won’t work!”

“Calm down, just hear me out for one goddamned minute. Sure, sure, it may sound crazy at first, but it’s really not that bad of an idea. You two get to have equal ownership of the land. However, for this to work, I’d also get to take a part in this, and I would be the one providing a military presence on the island to make sure that nothing goes wrong. It would essentially be a condominium. We have three administrations; three law systems to be tried under; three different immigration systems; three different court systems, albeit there will also be a joint court; and one common language. For the common language, I suggest we use Thukrali, as we all use it as a liturgical language anyway.”

Adolar III was silent for a few moments. “I suppose I could possibly see this working,” he conceded. “I still have serious doubts that this would work in any efficient capacity though.”

Jon shrugged. “I don’t see this working any other way currently. Take it or leave it, but this should prevent a war. Speaking of which,” he narrowed his eyes, “stop mustering your soldiers on Talusi’s border.”

“Fine, I’ll tell them to leave. I’m still keeping the usual amount stationed there though.”

“So be it. I’ve had a document prepared for this moment, if both of you would just please sign it, as I have already done, then we can consider this conference to be over,” Jon offered the bottle of akevitt to Adolar again. “Please take it, as a sign of my goodwill.”

Adolar reluctantly took the akevitt and handed it off to one of his bodyguards. Jon pushed the document toward Adolar and handed him a pen. After signing the paper, Adolar handed it to Arnulf, who also promptly signed it.

“Now then, gentlemen, let’s shake hands. This will be a new era of peace between your two nations I hope,” Jon firmly shook both Arnulf’s and Adolar’s hands. “Well, I hope you all have a safe journey home now, I’ll be heading back to Asendavia myself in a day.”

Arnulf II was the first to depart, his entourage leaving via the north exit, with Adolar III soon leaving via the east exit. With the two now gone, Jon VI sat back down and poured himself a small glass of akevitt to enjoy as he nibbled off of the platter. With peace likely ensured, he was able to enjoy himself for the first time in a long while.