It has been two days since the announced visit of the leader of Verdrassil coming to Trukya. Nervous event planners are fidgeting, trying to get every detail perfect for Trukya’s first international visitor. Tables lean against the heavy walls of the old conference hall and faded chairs are being continuously polished by overworked, tired staff members. Workers had been under immense pressure after being given such a sharp deadline, and the toll was clearly shown in their faces. Their efforts, however, were not in vain. The conference hall looked better than it had in years. Countless decades of uselessness had left the building a low priority for cleaning, repair, and other amenities given to the building standing proudly next to the hall, the grand Trukyan International Hotel. Unlike the Hotel’s small sister building, the Hotel was a stunning example to architecture of the time. Shining glass and even shinier steel, a true landmark of Trukya’s international efforts. Although two days of work was not enough to erase the decades of mistreatment, the astounding efforts of over 500 cleaning people did a good enough job to make the wear less noticeable. Now through the efforts of the cleaners, and a good amount of pledge, the hall was ready to be presentable to World Leaders.
Now overlooking the conference hall from the roof of the hotel, the Trukyan leader Alexei Nakashima glanced at the workers down below. His gaze still showed the youthful light of someone with many years ahead of them, being a man of only 23 years. His rise to power had been a swift one, but it seemed to not take a toll on the young man’s health at all. Now was not a time for him to worry about internal affairs however. The leader of another country would come into the country for the first time in his leadership. He quickly puts out the cigarette in his hand and stepped hastily down the stairs. Now was not a time to enjoy himself, and he had to maker sure everything downstairs was put into order. The Vel’dorei would soon be here.
Ferithan D’Ashir finds himself awestruck by the grand establishment standing before him as he exits the limousine. Hotels like this are not too uncommon in Verdrassil, but there exists a certain charm to the Trukyan International that the Minister particularly notices as he enters the building. His leader, his confidant, his friend, Lady Al’Ameth, is waiting patiently in the transport with her guard as he looks to ensure everything is prepared nicely for the diplomatic meeting; relations between the Exalted Sylvan Realm and the People’s Republic will depend upon the success of this conference.
A sharp, citric odor permeates the nose of Ferithan as he finds himself deeper within the hotel, conveying quite an obvious truth that the interior had quite recently been scoured in preparation for his arrival. The dark circles beneath the eyes of several staff members only served to further confirm this. The Minister initially considers the circumstance a compliment to Verdrassil, though he is subsequently struck by a pang of fear. Worrying as he often does, Ferithan hopes that no great stress has befallen these Trukyan nationals as a result of this meeting, particularly since it was born primarily through his encouragement.
Unsure of the person with whom he should speak, Ferithan notices a well-dressed individual who looks well enough like he could be a government official. The Minister walks towards him with a casual yet nervous gait and prepares to inquire whether or not the Trukyan leader is ready to receive his own.
The Trukyan Premier stood in the corner of the room. He was a tall, quaint older man of his late 60s. The years of hard work and toil had finally begun to work upon him, as it had done to the Hall he was standing in. He had been the one to make the suggestion to use the hotel, and had overseen much of the cleaning projects. Much like his workers, the Premier had the ruffled look of someone without bed or rest for many days. His clothes desperately needed an ironing and his shoes were smudged and off character for someone of such a high office. He was almost embarrassed to not look so presentable; the old man cherished the way he looked. Appearance, however, would not bind together two countries. It was only the meeting between the two leaders that could tie this together. The Premier awkwardly shuffled towards the approaching person and prepared to lead the Foreign Minister to the destination.
“Hello, my name is Sevastyan Yamauchi, I am the Premier of the USSPRT and would be glad to show you to the meeting hall.”
Sevastyan quickly turned around and started to walk towards the large double doors leading to the hall. He was always nervous at times, and it was a wonder he got into such an important position within the government while being so antisocial. It did not seem to bother Sevastyan how rude his sudden turn aways, and his short sentences may seem to people. The old Premier knew he was soon to retire and did not seek to spoil his last remaining years by becoming more talkative to people. In a way, the Conference Hall and the man were quite similar. They both were relics of a time long passed into Trukyan history books. Both had been pulled back into the spotlight for this one event. Both had been tough to pull together for this meeting. The Conference Hall, however, had one major difference. It would remain in the spotlight long after this event was over. That thought in the Premiers head made him even more antisocial. Either way, it was luckily not he who would be discussing the latest matters with other world leaders, it would be Alexei. And the only thing the Premier could think about as he pushed open the doors was how happy he was to be done with this meeting.
As the Premier guides Ferithan through to the conference hall, the latter finds himself quite vexed by the former. They both, oddly enough, expressed differing yet similar auras of anxiety that ultimately did not match their respective titles as diplomatic entities. It was clear both were uncomfortable being there. Ferithan mused for a moment whether or not this strange dichotomy would be indicate of the relationship that Verdrassil and Trukya would inevitably share in future affairs.
Ferithan begins to consider how his fair Lady is going to conduct herself during the meeting, and the thought of this stirs even further anxiety within the poor soul. Despite being a dignified head of state, the current Shan’da of Verdrassil is often known for having quite the acidic tongue, and sometimes she speaks far too bluntly than how someone in her position should. Of course, if the receiver of her speech is not groomed to handle such discourse, the all important first impression established between the two may result in a permanently tarnished relationship. This… cannot happen, to say the least. Not in this context, not in this land, and not regarding this potential alliance. It’s one thing to anger a dignitary from a land hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers away. It’s another to anger your physical neighbor, particularly when they’re a mere stone’s throw away from your hometown’s harbor.
Ferithan cleared his throat uncomfortably at this thought.
It doesn’t help that your nation has, throughout most of its history, expressed a very self-centric, even nationalist policy as it comes to foreign affairs, the Minister muses. After all, it wasn’t until recently that Verdrassil had even opened its embassy and solicited closer diplomatic relations from its fellow states within the region. There’s certainly a learning curve, that’s for sure, but a single trip up could yield devastating consequences for either party. His job, however, is to ensure that neither party reaches this stage and is instead diverted towards a more mutually beneficial path. He’s managed this before, and he most certainly can do so again should it come to that.
The pair ultimately reach the doors to the conference room. Ferithan looks towards Premier Yamauchi with a forcibly relaxed look. The latter seems all too nonplussed. Both enter the portal ahead of them into the ground upon which the future of both nations shall be inevitably affected, for better or worse.
[hr]OOC: I’d be great if you could describe the conference room a bit, perhaps throw around a bit of dialogue in form of a shorter post so we can back-and-forth a bit before we start getting the big dogs involved.[edit_reason]Removed the unnecessary quote; added an OOC line[/edit_reason]
Yamauchi slowly led the foreign minister into the foreign minister into the Conference Room. It had the comfortable, plain look of early architecture of 1980s Trukya. The walls were vertical wooden planks, the thin line inevitable between two boards showing in an almost comfortable way. The planks led all the way to the brand new tiled floor. The old floor had been a far too exotic rug for a diplomatic meeting, the floor covering was a relic of a time and taste that had long passed this world. On the walls were portrait of Trukyan leaders long past. Great leaders, awful leaders, leaders who left no impression, all covered the wall. In the very center was the portrait of the current leader, Alexei Nakashima. The artist who painted the portrait of the Trukyan leader had not been able to fully cover up his tired features and sullen gaze. A slight smile broke through his demeanor. The real leader, however, showed no such smile on his face. He was sitting in one of the rooms many chairs, the standard office chairs that would be seen within your average office workplace. Alexei slowly pushed himself back and forth with his feet in the rotating chair. He stopped his spinning immediately when the door was thrown open by the Premier. Alexei jumped to his feet and reached out for the Foreign Ambassador’s hand.
“My what a pleasure it is to meet you finally ambassador. I hope this meeting will further our diplomatic standings. If you would like to bring your leader in we are ready to begin.”
Alexei began to walk back to his seat, his steps sounding with every movement on the tile floor. It seemed this would be the deciding meeting in Trukya’s international efforts.
Alexei couldn’t help but thinking about internal affairs, however. That bumbling fool of a Premier, the total disorganization of the government. This nation was heading on an path of ruin. Alexei wasn’t even sure anymore if he would wake up in a nation that was together anymore. Civil war was right around the corner and the only way to solve it was through foreign powers.
“Ah, Mr. President. It’s an honor to say the least.”
Ferithan takes good notice of the man standing in front of him. He seems to share the same, tired expression that his people do, which is all the more unfortunate considering his youth. The juxtaposition between him and Lady Al’Ameth will be quite the contrast. The Minister proceeds to walk about the room, looking up and down, left and right, fully canvassing the environment in which the meeting will be held. This, of course, is welcome to puzzled looks from both the Trukyan President and Premier, and the Vel’dorei takes quick notice of this.
“Don’t mind me, gentlemen. I find this room especially quaint in design. Anyway, I will need permission for members of our own guard to be stationed at these particular locations within the room.”
Ferithan points around in order to convey his wishes to the President before looking directly towards him.
“With your permission, of course.”
A roguish grin is offered in complement to the Minister’s words.[edit_reason]Fixed an error in formatting[/edit_reason]
The Premier continued to stand despite Alexei finding a seat. He looked oblivious to all of the social cues that would urge a normal person to sit down. It took Alexei nearly telling the man to take a seat before he finally did. Alexei shook his head at the oaf of a Premier that he had and turned to the ambassador to say something.
“Your guards may enter into the room. I hope you don’t mind if we have some of our own.”
Alexei looked at the Ambassador and quickly at the Premier.
For just a moment he couldn’t imagine how he gotten this far in his political career.
“Not at all. I shall return shortly with the rest.”
Ferithan disappears back into the hotel for a few minutes and returns a few moments later with a knock at the door.
The Verdrassé guard, a group of five known as the Sentinels, pour rather quickly into the conference room upon the answer of the Trukyan Premier. Each neglect to extend eye contact any of the foreigners within, focusing instead upon their surroundings and securing a position. Despite the Minister having already surveyed the room, the guard acts to double-check themselves, much to the dismay of their counterparts. After a couple minutes of rustling around, the guards establish themselves in a curved formation near the entry. A female Sentinel then beckons forth the leader of Exalted Sylvan Realm.
Lady Al’Ameth proceeds into the room with an unquestionable grace and elegance that would befit the most majestic mythical creature. The Vel’dorei sovereign strides tall and proud with her head tilted slightly upward: not too high so as to display arrogance, but enough so to command reverence. Her amethyst skin contrasts exquisitely with an opalescent gown, one decorated with jewels, trinkets, and chains of various colors and materials. An aroma composed of natural scents infuses the room as she proceeds, establishing a pleasing, rustic atmosphere within the aging space. Ferithan looks towards his superior and bows his head deeply. The surrounding guards do the same. She smiles upon her companions with a proud, motherly distinction.
In a soothing yet resonant voice, she speaks to the Trukyan leader.
“Ishnu’alah, my dear Alexei. Thank you for so very much for having me.”
Alexei looked in amazement as the highly disciplined guards filed into the room. Each one appeared to be more discipline than the last. Their gleaming uniforms seemed to match the gleaming gaze of the leader standing in the doorway. Before he even had time to react, 8 guards called in from the Hotel slowly walked in. They each grabbed a small wooden chair leaning against the wall of the same material, and took a seat. Alexei didn’t have the time to scold them for their casualness right now. More foreign matters called him forth, not lazy guards who lacked discipline.
“Greetings. If you would like to take a seat you may. We can get to discussing what we must.”
Alexei sat in the chair in the middle of the table on the right side, the side closest to the portraits. The Premier sat in the chair directly to Alexei’s left. Alexei could clearly smell the sharp odor of the Premier’s cologne. The smell almost sickened him at a time like this. His nervousness was shown on his face and it was clear he was uncomfortable with such intense situations. Nevertheless, he still asked a question.
Upon entry of the additional guards, the Sentinels sneer openly at the sight of the opposing guards acting with such a carefree attitude. Lady Al’Ameth takes the seat directly facing that of Alexei. She then bids Ferithan sit beside her, establishing a similar pattern to that expressed by the Trukyans. Now, the meeting has begun.
“My, my. It’s such a shame to witness how exhausted you are, my friend. We could have easily scheduled this meeting a few hours later so you could have had yourself a nap.”
Ferithan fails to hide his disapproval towards the previous comment. Already, it seems she plans to go on the aggressive.
“Oh well, since we’re here, we may as well talk business. As you’re well aware, the Exalted Sylvan Realm has forsaken its former policy of total isolation in favor of growing somewhat closer to its allies within the region. As one of our closest physical neighbors, a fellow island no doubt, I considered it proper to seek out a more personal audience. Truly, communicating only through diplomatic correspondence (no offense, Ferithan my dear) can generate consequential animosity between two parties. Trust may only fully be established through a physical medium.”
The Shan’da pauses for a moment and gazes intently at Alexei.
“You can tell a lot about a person through the content of their eyes. In spite of your youth, I see many stories in yours. Many fears, many doubts. Tell me, do you feel secure, President Nakashima? Is Trukya… safe? A sensitive question, no doubt, but Verdrassil has no need for allies who may find themselves inundated with tumult. You can understand, I’m sure, as a fellow sovereign.”[edit_reason]Formatting issue; replaced some words[/edit_reason]
Alexei was at a loss for words. Here was a diplomatic meeting between their nations, and she was here asking philosophical questions of him? For once the tired look in his weary eyes was replaced by something more human like, shock. How was the country doing? How could he even begin to answer that? Alexei had woken up every day to serve the Trukyan people and to make the country whole again. In his head, however, he knew it wasn’t working. But say that to a foreign leader? The Trukyan leader almost couldn’t maintain eye contact with the foreign leader as he answered.
“The country is…is doing fine. Our internal affairs are of no concern at a diplomatic meeting. If you would like to get on to diplomatic affairs we can.”
Alexei was afraid of his statement sounding rude to the intimidating leader across from him. He didn’t trust his life in the hands of the incompetent Trukyan guard sitting near him. He knew the leader across from him trusted her guard well. It was only a matter of time before he slipped too far.
Lady Al’Ameth dismisses the sharp reply with a wave of her hand.
“Petulance is not befitting the leader of a nation, child. I suggest you answer the question. Your unwillingness to process the merit of what I just asked you is either indicative of ignorance or evasion. Neither please me, but for my sake, I hope it’s the latter.”
Ferithan adjusts himself uneasily in his chair. He lies his palm carefully but firmly on the Lady’s shoulder. She offers a slight scowl but does not continue.
“What she means to say, President Nakashima, is that if you do seek a continued relationship with Verdrassil, your internal affairs are very much of concern to us. We don’t find ourselves easily establishing relationships with the most harmless of nations. It’s not in our nature to invest ourselves within a partner who could bring us ruin as a result of their own shortcomings. Please understand, we aren’t requesting specifies, but we require…”
“Demand.”
“… request as much transparency on your nation’s stability as possible. We would gladly do the same when, if ever, requested.”
Alexei stared at both of them. It seemed a while before he was able to gather himself to speak. In his short years in politics, Alexei had dealt with many people like Lady Al’Ameth. All wanted something. All wanted to play him like a fool. The Premier began to get nervous that Alexei wouldn’t say anything at all. When the Premier began to stammer out a statement, however, Alexei quickly shut him up with a sharp glare. He would not be played a fool.
“What Trukya does and how Trukya does it is the affairs of the state and the state only. I see over my country. I have worked to make sure I am the only one to see over my country. I will continue to work hard to ensure that I will be the only one to see over my country.”
The Premier again tried to interject and Alexei quickly shut him up. Alexei leaned deep into his chair. He was the only one who would rule over Trukya. He would make sure of that anyway that he could, or any way that he needed to.
Both Lady Al’Ameth and Ferithan exchange ambiguous glances. Unbeknownst to Alexei, his tone happened to convey a great deal to the two Vel’dorei sitting opposite from him. In his act of defiance, the answer lies bear for all to see. Ferithan wondered whether or not the Premier also caught on, or perhaps he’s privy to more than the Minister could even extrapolate.
“I must say, President Nakashima, and I do so with all due respect, we aren’t asking much of you here. This is information we can easily find out ourselves through observation, and we merely request you save us the time, effort, and resources of doing so. Let me be frank, we are not friends yet. Whether or not we reach that point is entirely up to you.”
Ferithan sits back and rubs the bridge of his nose. This meeting spun out of control quite rapidly, and Lady Al’Ameth’s silence has proven quite foreboding. He understand her position, to an extent. This Alexei is hiding something, and it seems to be either important or damning enough to where its revelation must be prevented at all costs, even if it means the derailment of the conference.
As the Minister finished that thought, Lady Al’Ameth abruptly rose to her feet.
“President Nakashima, I am not interested in wasting time. If you do not wish to discuss matters of state like adults, then so be it. Verdrassil can and will do just fine without the cooperation of Trukya.”
Ferithan stood up as well. The gauntlet has been thrown, he muses. The question is: will Alexei respond in turn?
Alexei looked at both of the foreign guests going to the door. For what seemed like a long time to the very frightened Premier across from him, Alexei did not say a word. The silence was thick and heavy and could be felt by even the leader himself. At last he leaned forward in the chair and put his hands on the table. He started to respond slowly, putting thought into each and every word that he spoke.
“I am sorry to say that we have no business with you or your people. Thank you for your time.”
Alexei leaned back into the chair and waited for the leader to leave.
The Vel’dorei start filing out from the conference room with irritable expressions. Ferithan shrugs towards the Trukyan Leader, and Lady Al’ameth pauses for a final word.
“I appreciate your finally being candid, Alexei. We indeed have no business together.”
The party exits the Trukyan International Hotel in silence. The result of this meeting was… unforeseen, to say the least. Ferithan felt a bit guilty for having put the Shan’da through this unneeded stress. With hope, perhaps he can perform extra clerical duties to avoid the impending censure he will receive after today. Oh, joy.
The Minister turns back and takes one final look at the building. A marvelous structure, truly. Its condition of neglect fails to conceal its underlying presence. An unfortunate metaphor for the state of Trukya, it seems. Perhaps it’s not too late, perhaps it’s not beyond saving, restoration…
Of course. The Lady is right. This land’s future lies beyond that boy in a suit. Does he even notice it? Probably not. I wouldn’t imagine one whose aware of a noose tightening around their neck would so easily turn away a blade.
And so, like cherry blossoms in the off-season, the relationship between Trukya and Verdrassil withered and fluttered to the ground. The Trukyan leader hadn’t been able to contain himself from anger, but Alexei was merely a paper tiger. Anger had wilted the relationship between two great countries and now only great change could put their diplomacy back on the right path. Until change would come, the course had been set by the impatient ship captain that was Alexei Nakashima. Now, it seemed, Trukyan foreign relations were at an all time low. Somehow, even when foreign nations had never stepped foot inside Trukya before, diplomacy had plummeted to an all time low with Trukya’s neighbors. It was all due to the actions of one Alexei Nakashima.
As the Trukyan leader rejoined his companion of a single cigarette on the roof of the hotel he had to wonder how things had gone so badly. Everything had spiraled out of his control, and for the first time in the young leader’s life he wondered if he had gone too far in his political endeavors. He threw the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. A heavy rain began to fall on the Trukyan land and the skies black with thunderclouds. Even though Alexei was getting thoroughly soaked on the roof, he didn’t have the self-respect or energy to move back inside. He looked up into the night and saw a single light rising into the sky above Trukya.