The Unchained Melody [Symphony|Closed]

[Tarsas]

Tyros, Tarsas
Seat of the National Imperial University
July 12, 2012

Tyros, an ancient city with a long history for scholars and learning, was the current seat for the most prestigious university in the nation. The city itself sat in the northern portion of the country four hundred kilometers from the coast on an alluvial plain along the Red River. All ancient cities in Tarsas were built along rivers and other water sources and Tyros was no exception. Today, the esteemed members of the Symphony, a group dedicated to preserving and furthering education across the world, had decided to give Tarsas the privilege of hosting the elections conference for the Head Librarian of the Symphony. The governor of the province had spared no expense in getting the city prepared as mandated by the Senate.

A military attachment had been promptly deployed. Having so many foreign delegates in once place and leaving it up to the local police, it had been decided, would be unacceptable. The governor was quite indignant, but his authority was overruled. The site of the conference would, of course, be the NIU. Classes had been cancelled for the duration of the conference. Students had been refunded one full semester in a Senate approved financial measure since no one knew exactly how long the conference would last. It was likely that the Head Librarian, should Tarsas be elected, would use this very campus to construct and house all Symphony related structures and information.

The Central Lecture Hall, an enormous room that was designed to seat over four thousand students at a time, had been remodeled for the conference. The long tables that circled the room and gave students a work surface had been removed. One large round table had been placed in the center of the room under a crystal chandelier. Large high definition screens were mounted around the room at intervals for the professor to be able to display the contents of the marker board to students across the room. These had been repurposed for use by the conference, with several being remounted so one could see a screen without having to turn his head if he was sitting at the table.

The marker board and most of the room’s décor remained unmodified to exude the environment that the room was built for, one of learning. For food and drink, a variety of finely aged wines and cheeses had been assembled. Meals were to be catered by the finest dining establishment in Tyros, which served a variety of international foods from all around the world along with a large selection of local choices. During the conference, finger foods would be available for consumption by delegates along with wine and water. Meals would be served at the normal consumption times with a much larger choice of beverages.

Provided in the city itself was an airport capable of hosting the largest international aircraft for extended periods of time. For transportation on the ground, the Tarsan government had paid for and appointed each delegation three luxury rental cars a piece. Should a delegation require more, a facility that could accommodate them was just minutes from the airport. The Crown Eagle Hotel, the best hotel in the city, had reserved two entire floors worth of suites for delegates to call home for the duration of the event. It was expected most wouldn’t be used, but the fee was being paid to keep them reserved regardless. All the preparations were only completed the day before the delegates were set to arrive, and the staff that was being paid to do the various needed jobs rushed to prepare themselves in the final hours of the twelfth of July.

Conference Room
National Imperial University
July 14, 2012

The delegate that arrived first was, of course, the Tarsan one. Marcellus Vespasianus Lucius, a well-known and successful diplomat from the Foreign Affairs Office, had been appointed by the Emperor for the event. It also helped that he was born and raised in and currently lived in Tyros. He had graduated with a Master’s in law from this very university before going on to work for the government. He had taken fine wine from his own cellars to serve during the event for the first five days, as was the custom for a host. He arrived early at 0600 hours for the first day. The delegates had all arrived the day before on the thirteenth and the conference was due to commence at eight.

The general orientation held the day before gave each delegate their rooms, cars, and a dedicated assistant that would be on call for them to use twenty four hours a day. The assistant’s job would be to mainly assist in navigating the city, operating delegate vehicles should they require it, and acting as a liaison between the host and guests. It took the next two hours for all delegates to assemble in the conference room just in time for the introduction at eight. As the clock struck eight, Lucius stood. He smiled and bowed to all in the room. “Greetings my fellow diplomats, I would like to welcome you to the Enlightened Empire of Tarsas. We are honored you have chosen our humble nation to host this event for the Symphony.”

He gestured to the table in front of him. “To make your experience here as comfortable as possible, we have provided a host of finger foods that you may request at any point during the deliberations. A menu should be in front of you. We also have a variety of wines for your consumption. Should you require anything at all, simply press the button on the remote device that is also in front of you and a servant will come and get you what you desire. A recording of all that goes on here will be made and submitted to the Head Librarian once they have been elected for storage in the Symphony archives. I believe that first we will need to start with nominations for the position of Head Librarian. The esteemed visiting delegates may speak nominations first then I will mention the candidate that we have prepared.” He took his seat. The first election for Head Librarian had begun.

[Milograd]

"Nekelith Ukavom, the overseer of the Argyzian Vault, is my nomination," spoke Milograd's representative, Vakra Rovilon, while glancing over his shoulder towards the door. He then turned back to Lucius. "He has years of experience protecting and managing the most secure and extensive library in Milograd." When Vakra blinked, his eyes needed several seconds to open once again, and he repeatedly found himself adjusting his posture to keep his back straight. The flight from Gholgoth to Pardes Elion was unsurprisingly exhausting and the "horrors of jetlag," as he liked to call it, had truly gotten to best of him. Goddamn flights.

Rheum had begun building up upon the corners of his eyes: it was becoming increasingly challenging to refrain from keeping his eyes sealed. He sighed for a moment, tried to shake it off, and continued speaking. "For those of you who don't know, a rebellion took place in my country eighty years ago. At this time, a single library was located in each of Milograd's cities, and a grand library was located in the capital." While he was well aware that the people in the room were quite intelligent and could probably be spared of a history lesson about most nations, Milograd's lengthy isolation was responsible for few foreigners knowing the details of its past. He feared that speaking about the Argyzian Vault without context would confuse the representatives.

"When the rebels united in Kremho, the largest city in Milograd at the time, they were violently driven out by the local police forces. In retaliation," he said, "the rebels set fire to a police station located near the city's outskirts. The fire rapidly grew and engulfed the entirety of the southern Kremho; few lives were lost, but the entire Kremhon library was burned to the ground." A long frown suddenly became visible across Vakra's face. "Much knowledge was lost that day, and to make matters worse, the building was the largest library in Milograd. It was dedicated to storing information about the country's history. Its destruction meant that much of Milograd's history, especially concerning events prior to the Hunenic settling on Atraeza, was unrecoverable."

He would have continued talking about the inferno, but he realized that he was rambling and hadn't yet commented on Nekelith's credentials for the position of Head Librarian. "The destroyed library's role was taken over by a new library in Argyz, which was later named the Argyzian Vault. It's simply a massive, underground library. Essentially, what I'm trying to say is that I think that Nekelith would be a fine choice for our first Head Librarian because he has done a superb job managing the vault for two decades now, and because he is a very intelligent individual." The frown upon his face then morphed into a slight smile. "So, any questions?" he inquired.

[-Deus-]

"Well perhaps you should fireproof your books, Mr.Rovilon." The Lrae-Epsonian representative chuckled to herself and swept her hair back. Andrea Ven'Tzech often slipped in such diplomatic situations, displaying a youthful rudeness that was actually quite annoying and troubling to her superiors. She had been chosen for this assignment if only to give her a chance and because the Symphony conference required little in the way of true diplomacy. Nonetheless she was an oddity, the light tan of a Siius with the long, elegant features of an Ironian set her apart as a mutt of Lrae-Epsonian heritage. She despised it. "But, in all seriousness," her face lost all traces of optimism and took on a neutral glare "Sein Arrigo of Teveltin Institute is our nomination."

"He is one of the foremost authorities on social philosophy and sociology within Lrae-Epsos as well as one an excellent scholar. We feel his credentials nearly over-qualify him for the position of Head Librarian." He made sure to enunciate each word as clearly as possible. She spoke English very well compared to the average Lrae-Epsonian, yet despite that she felt awkward and she was certain her accent made her sound like a foreigner fresh off the boat. It was a little embarrassing, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she slowly came to the realization that she was among professionals. "We Ladaerans place education on a very high, ivory pedestal. We feel it is a very important part of a person's life and academics are some of the most highest paid and cared for workers within our Kingdom. Mr.Arrigo displays this by giving it his one-hundred and ten percent best."

"And while we can't claim anything as spectacular as a knowledge destroying fire, I can assure you that we take this very seriously. Thank you." She took a breath and smiled, sinking into her chair. She crossed her legs and flailed her raised foot in the air nervously, folding her hands and playing with her thumbs. Her neutral glare transformed into a pale smile and her eyes sank a little, showing her exhaustion. It was boring. Unsurprisingly and utterly boring.

[Jenrak]

“The coffee here isn’t potent enough.” Professor Julius Winston’s groan was heard as he shook his head, the frizzy white strands of his mad scientist hair flying around as his assistant – a graduate student with more muscles than a rabid Doberman – leaned back a bit to not get any on his expensive black vest. “It needs to be completely bitter to be right. Just right!” He snapped, pushing up his glases on the greasy slip of his nose, his dry lips sipping another cup of coffee.

“Yes sir.” His assistant smiled, looking at Winston with a forced smile, keeping his nose far away from Julius’ mouth. “Gum?”

“Maybe later.” Winston said, coughing in his assistant’s face, as the two of them walked into the conference with a confident strut. Winston slicked his hair back and made a sort of swinging motion with his waist, listening to the joints crack as he took a deep sigh and then an even deeper sip. “At least it’s making the headache go away.”

Again, the assistant gave a forced smile. “Uh, Professor, it might be best to get into the habit of drinking this much, especially when the washroom is so far away.”

“Pish-posh, I’m not gonna let that slip by me.” He pulled out a large file from his large and bulky suit, revealing a messy pile of papers as he pulled out a vivid pink paper. He cleared his throat, the noise of phlegm and coffee still tickling the back of his throat. A single drop of sweat ran down the assistant’s face as the assistant wiped it off immediately with the white sleeve of his shirt. “Representing Queen Avox Sauzarum, of Azumethronnia, I am Doctor Julius Winston, of the University of Haasdra, an institution with a focus on economics, fine arts, and political philosophy.” He cleared his throat one more time, and then continued with his speech. What began as a chortled and seemingly unorganized garble of a mess quickly turned into something quite well prepared. It turned into something visibly with much effort and thought put into it, and it was evident that behind Julius Winston’s dinosauric mannerisms and his callously unrependant rudeness there lied some sort of savant.

Of course, Dr. Winston wouldn’t have called himself a savant: he’d be too humble for that. Yep, not a savant at all.

So, with a savant like swiftness of his words in his speech and a savant-like memorization of the specific requirements and details of the University of Haasdra’s incredibly slow and boring history in the exciting and blood thumping field of academics, the not-Savant-at-all-surely Dr. Winston took another deep breath, linked his fingers together and looked at the rest of the conference. “I come on behalf of the Queen as an ambassador of sorts, no matter how seemingly rudimentary my condition and the consideration of an escort for information, record-keeping, and general schedule management, to put forth for the position of Head Librarian for the Amahr Iphil Sancta Symphonus – as we call the organization in native Karbulian to one Ophelia Treyuko, who has been working on cataloguing many of the details and proper information management of the larger Methronnian libraries. The question of a Head Librarian is not one that’s good at preservation or conflict or any of the sort, my fellow ambassadors, but rather one that is good at managing the complex system required to bring information, artefacts, and data out at a whim.”

He turned to his assistant. “Coffee please.” He shook his hand out for a little bit.

“I think you’ve had enough for today, Professor.”

“Oh, don’t say that. C’mon, I need more coffee.” But regardless of what the assistant said, he instantly turned his head back to the others, clearing his throat on the microphone and repeating his words. “I think she’s the best candidate, because based upon the information provided for what we should expect the Head Librarian to do, she is the one with qualifications we can trust.”

Occasionally, his eyes would dart to the menu, but goddamn it, there was a half-rousing speech to give.

[Azura]

As more of the conference's diplomats took their rounds addressing the convention, John Caileán began to grow more and more agitated. The turn of events taking place in Tarsas were not to be considered a surprise, necessarily—it only made sense that each nation would seek to raise its own banner and trumpet the case of their respective nominees. Yet he was a warrior, not a diplomat: listening to the trifling, mundane intricacies of international diplomacy was hardly his usual cup of tea. The Achæon had dispatched him to Tyros for a very specific purpose, one that was most certainly different from the missions of the others. And as Caileán replayed the instructions Caius Anaximander had personally delivered, he found himself wishing to be anywhere but Tyros. Antares, Asavona, Gholgoth—any place except the Symphony conference.

Anywhere else would do, damn it...

As the quirky Professor Julius Winston concluded... whatever it was that he was issuing, Caileán could take no more. He cautiously stood from his table, crudely flipping the menu away from his hand as he rose. He bore holes through the the other representatives, keeping a cold and frosty veneer plastered to his face. For all his fellow delegates knew, he was simply trying to posture himself into a stronger bargaining position. They would be correct, of course, but he was also quite displeased with sharing the same room with an Atraezan, or Methronnian for that matter. To consider the contemptuous precepts which he was about to spew forth...

"My name is John Caileán. I am a Commandant sent on behalf of His Righteousness the Glorious Achæon, Caius IV Anaximander through the auspices of the Order of the Nera Strega to speak on behalf of the Azuran Imperiate of West Azumethronnia. Like my counterpart, the esteemed Dr. Julius Winston from the Methronnian Imperiate of East Azumethronnia, I speak not only on behalf of the Azuran people, but of a larger collective who have sought to carve for themselves a most unique place in history. This event, momentous as it is, cannot be won by pointless self-aggrandizing. It is why I have come, and not an academic of meritorious rank. My Emperor has sent me to convey a message direct from Avsalon, which I intend to give."

Caileán stared around the room, uncrossing his arms to utilize the free flowing motion of his hands. "The Achæon is committed to funding the Symphony of War and Knowledge, and to establishing a most prestigious collection of information to be transferred to the primary institutions which this council sees fit to create. Yet I also pass along a message of caution—for the winds of change are sweeping across the world. New and dangerous political institutions rise everywhere we look, causing our number to tread ever more carefully. If we remain divided in this, the hour of our birth, then the Symphony shall be a disunited chorus of voices who seek only to service themselves. The Achæon refuses to allow West Azumethronnia to fall into that trap. Therefore, by the power vested in me under the defense of Azumethronnian Common Law, I have been instructed in good faith to act in accordance with the desires and wishes of the honorable representative of Gaia-Queen Avox Sauzarum... whatsoever those desires and wishes might be."

Caileán stared coldly in the direction of Dr. Winston, refusing to yield so much as a nod in his direction. Yet his honor precluded him from explaining how rank the Methronnian's putrid stench truly was; he was asked by Caius to carry his message of unity, and was bound by the code of the Nera Strega to uphold that promise. After a beat, he returned to his seat, refuting the ideas in his head to gather an understanding of what the others thought of his little speech. Caileán shook his head, understanding implicitly that it didn't matter. Unlike other schmoozers at the Conference, he was only interested in carrying out the mission he'd been given. Like a good little soldier, he had performed with distinction. And while the conference would be moving on, his part was largely complete. He pressed the small button on his inset, motioning for a servant to approach.

"Champagne,' Caileán motioned quickly, "to celebrate the completion of my task."

[Ikruchystan]

"Who the fuck are these bourgeoisie dicks?" muttered Ashkran to his replacement adjutant.

Ashkran was currently in no mood for this conference. He was more than a little stressed; on the way over, his flight had been hit by rebel anti-aircraft fire, and as a result his original adjutant was currently bleeding to death in the back of a DC-3. Ashkran wanted nothing more to retire to his quarters and drink himself into oblivion, but no, he had to be stuck at this goddamn conference with a bunch of goddamn posh intellectuals and a kid barely out of school who looked like he was about to piss himself like an overexcited dog.

"Sir, please, calm down. I want to hear what they're saying," whined the adjutant, while looking at Ashkran pleadingly. The boy could not have been much older than twenty, with an eagerness and buoyant spirit that made Ashkran, a wonderfully cynical person, sick to his stomach. Ashkran merely rubbed his temples and lit another cigarette, jamming it into his mouth and inhaling deeply.

"It doesn't matter what they say, child. They are all divided, and our vote shall decide their fates, for we shall not support ourselves." Ashkran stood slowly, buttoning up his jacket. He cleared his throat softly. "I, Ashkran Helos, in the interest of Gothic solidarity, vote for Milograd's candidate."

[Tarsas]

The Tarsan representative stood again. It was time for him to state his nation's nomination. It was decided that Tqrsas would not put forward a candidate in the opening sessions of the meeting but would support one of the existing candidates that were nominated. No one would ever get anything done if everyone voted for themselves. A candidate would not be picked by Tarsas on the basis of anything but merit. The problem of the Symphony's current voting system was that everyone could nominate and vote for their own candidates. However, young organizations often had a developmental curve. Later, he would raise the issue of a new voting system needing to be put into place. As he stood, a servant brought his requested wine. The other guests were served their requested drinks as well.

He had reviewed the credentials of the candidates put forward and picked a choice to support. "We have decided, based on the candidates being reviewed by a board of educators during the nomination process, that we will support Ophelia Treyuko for the position of Head Librarian. We feel she would be best suited for the position due to her extensive experience. Now that everyone has cast their lot, I believe it is time to give the chance for everyone to further extrapolate on why their candidate would be the best qualified and attempt to convince people to vote otherwise. Each nation may have one turn if they desire it. If no one wishes to do so, we may move onto bringing up issues of importance, such as how much funding each nation needs to contribute to build the facilities for the storage and preservation of knowledge in the current nation of the Head Librarian, whoever that turns out to be."

[Jenrak]

Julius gave a dumbass-looking thumbs up to the Tarsan representative. "I believe the best course of action, for when we are formally voting - formally!", he raised one finger up high, looking at everyone else, his assistant with his face buried in his hands, reddening madly, "is that we should formally vote for a candidate that is not ours. So that we may put forward people as suggestions, but ultimately keep things civil and fair by actual voting. That said, if we leave it to the actual voting, then I also believe that as the hosts of the delegation, the Tarsians, Tarsasians, Tarsans? I apologise for the etymology, but the hosts should have the final say in determining when the voting should be cast."

His assistant handed him another piece of coffee-stained paper. "On a poorly implemented segway, I would like to agree with the decision to discuss finances and resource allocation for the Symphony."