Part 1 - Exposition
January 18th, 2024
Greater Asluagh, Aivintis
“Do whatever you have to do, Lulain, but keep them from talking about Ni-Rao. If they are concerned with other matters, they won’t try to intervene here - and since Tavaris has stopped backing the August Empire, this may be our chance.”
“Yes, sir.” Malima Lulain hung up and pocketed his phone. Taking a moment to breathe in the scent of petrichor and feel the cool humidity on his skin, the young Raonite ambassador glanced around and, when he was sure nobody was paying much attention, he pulled out another phone — different from the first. Carefully, he pulled up a website and put in the number. The other end immediately picked up - as expected.
“Hello, this is the Tretridian Embassy. You’re speaking with Osþryþ, how may I help you?”
“Well, Osþryþ, I was just minding my business when I overheard some diplomat people from the Council of Gondwana talking and, well, you won’t be-lieve what I heard them say!” As Lulain spoke, his voice was dripping with politeness, and he attempted to play up his trustworthiness. The less information he could disclose, the better, although he was sure the RIS would find out anyways. “But I heard it and I just thought to myself, wowzers, this sure sounds like something Tretrid and them all oughta know about! So here I am, calling you folks up there!”
“I see, sir. Just so you know, the Royal Intelligence Service doesn’t take politely to prank calls.” Dropping his voice to just above a whisper and losing the accent, Lulain responded with a simple
“Miss, I assure you this is the real deal.”
“Very well then. What is this information regarding?”
“The situation in Western Gondwana,” he said, maintaining his cheery demeanor.
“Understood. I’ll redirect your call.” The voice cut out and switched to hold music, some nice smooth jazz. Lulain wasn’t a fan of jazz — why would he like music for poor people, after all — but it was still fine enough. After a few seconds, though, the hold music stopped.
“Who is this?” came a deep, full voice from the other end.
“Someone with access and information.”
“I’m not sure that’s good enough.”
“It’s going to have to be. I have information that you want, and I don’t even want anything for giving it to you. Besides, we both know it wouldn’t take that much to find me anyways.” Too late it occurred to Lulain that he had just admitted he was even someone worth finding, but ah well. On the other side, he heard a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
“Fine. What’s this information you have?”
“Earlier today, the Council of Gondwana held a discussion, at the behest of Mrs. Ayad of Sayyed, where the ambassador requested Council intervention and support in the Sayqidi annexation of Dhoran and Kirislu. While Mrs. Ayad had to abruptly leave during the discussion, halting it for the time being, there were certainly some assenting opinions. I can drop the transcript of the meeting off at the embassy here in Greater Asluagh, should you wish.”
“That would be great. Oh, and one more thing?”
“Yes?” Lulain asked, holding his breath. What else could they possibly want?
“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Ambassador.” Click. Damn, they were good. Malima Lulain tossed the burner into the nearby bin, making sure nobody was watching, and then checked the mildly altered transcript - nothing much, just attributing some things he had personally said in the discussion to some of his colleagues who had been shier. Sharing is caring, after all. But he didn’t want the RIS digging too far into why he would support Sayyed and then suddenly sell them out. Carefully triple-checking that everything was as it should be (well, as he and his boss wanted it to be), Lulain started walking towards the embassy with a grin on his face and a pep in his step.