Different Sides [Open]

[Macisikan]

“I am pleased to say my wife is well,” Liz Cohen’s interjection took him by surprise. “-as is my family as well…” the puzzlement was genuine; he didn’t even know the Cohens had a son, and had no idea why they rushed through the statement. The Tal Almak guards said nothing.

Like the rest of the guests, the Ambassador had turned to observe the arrival of the former president.

Grey glanced at Cohen. The President stepped back, just a little. Hesitantly, Cohen gestured to the Ambassador, “After you.”

“Thank you ser,” he murmured in response, and made his way to Grey. The Ambassador, the product of an alien culture, wasn’t intimidated in the slightest, and was wondering why Cohen was. The two guards vanished somewhere between the two Presidents. The Macisikani halted in front of the former President.

“My Lord Grey,” Koryel offered the shallow bow due to former heads of state, “thank you for inviting me into your home, and on this particular occasion.”

[Farmina]

“The pleasure is all mine, your Excellency. Indeed I’ve asked that you be seated beside me tonight. Macisikan was a pivotal ally in the battle for democracy,” said Tobias. He offered the Ambassador his hand to shake, “And please don’t call me Lord Grey – Tobias will do. As far as I'm concerned, Lord Grey was my father...”

[Macisikan]

"Of course, ser Grey," the Ambassador's mouth twitched slightly; he knew Grey was astute enough to understand that the Macisikani would insist on being a bit formal at least until the end of the conversation. Due respect to the host and all that.

"Allies by accident," he continued, shaking Grey's hand firmly, "but a fortunate one I feel; after all, war does make many strange bedfellows - an Empire fighting with a Republic to preserve democracy. The political cartoonists thought it highly entertaining, but nevertheless, it is the hope of my King-Emperor and of our Senate that your Republic will continue to stay strong," the Ambassador's voice was spiced with an accent. It sounded almost like a strange combination of upper-class-Spanish and Israeli, rolling the r's slightly, an inflection on the h's.

[Farmina]

“Allies by accident...” said Grey, with his honeyed words, “...Do people say they are friends by accident? No matter - that is neither here nor there. We are still united – that is what matters – united by the need for a strong DRF.”

Grey broke off the handshake – as though he had said too much. But then he spoke, “Please take your seat. There is much to discuss,” suggesting he had more to say.

In the dining room there was a single long dining table. At one end, sat a chair marked with an elaborate “R.G.” carved into the back – Grey’s seat. On its left was a spot marked for the Ambassador. Beside it sat Cardinal Walter Bridges, dressed in a black cassock with crimson trimmings. Across from the Ambassador’s seat sat Backle – Grey’s right-hand. Down the far end, sat the Prince – watching everyone.

OOC: I just got stood up!

[Macisikan]

Koryel smiled in response to Grey. He had only told a half-truth; the government in Saragova didn’t want the DRF to stay strong – they wanted it to stay out of their hair and not to bother them. Their servants in Arn-Maciska had decided that the best way to achieve that, at the moment, was to ensure the DRF remained intact. Same thing in the end.

The Ambassador noted his place of honour at the table, although he’d have preferred to have the Prince sitting opposite him. Backle had struck him as a bore, while the Prince had a reputation as being an engaging conversational partner. He’d settle for the Cardinal not talking to him about God though; that would only end up with someone being offended.

He sat quietly in his place, hands folded neatly in his lap.

OOC: the obvious and correct course of action is to kill them and display their mortal remains as a warning to others.

[Farmina]

The Cardinal smiled pleasantly at the Ambassador. He spoke softly, just loud enough so Backle could not hear, “Do you know why you are here, Your Excellency? Do you know why we are all here?”

President Cohen and his wife stepped up to Lord Grey. Joe locked eyes with his host – a brief handshake, “I thank you for your kind invitation, Lord Grey. May I offer you a gift of my appreciation.” He did not bow – the President outranked Lord Grey, technically. Elizabeth Cohen stepped forward and presented Grey with the bottle of wine.

“I thank you for your gift, and your gracious presence Lord President,” said Grey bowing his head just slightly. His fat cheeks and chin wobbled as he spoke. He took the bottle – holding it with just three fingers, as though it was contaminated with some infectious disease. His eyes studied the label of the bottle – his face revealed nothing. He passed the bottle to a footman, who escorted the bottle safely out of the dining room, perhaps to the incinerator.

Then suddenly, the mood changed. “How are you Joe? I know the burden you carry. Do not carry it alone.” Joe was silent – taken aback by the sudden familiarity. “Lady Cohen,” wheezed Grey, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.” He took her hand and kissed it gently, “The President is a lucky man. Look after him, as he looks after our great nation.”

“I will Lord Grey,” said Elizabeth, “Thank you. Thank you very much.” Grey was old enough to be her father – but she was more than a little charmed. The Cohens proceeded to their seats, off-balance. Joe Cohen sat with the Prince at his right, and Cardinal Bridges on Liz’s left – the far end of the table from Lord Grey.

He is just a fat man in an expensive suit thought Cohen, Just a fat man in an expensive suit.

No doubt Justinian had a similar thought. Woe Justinian.



OOC: Hmm – that sounds like something a Farminan would do. I just found the whole situation bemusing (I must be getting old).

[Macisikan]

The Ambassador titled his head towards the Cardinal, and smiled slightly.
“We are here to commemorate the great battle of Liverson, apparently,” his voice matched the Cardinal’s, but there was a note of amusement in his tone. “But we know who our host is. What is your view?”

The bluntness would, in some circles, be seen as rude – but they had limited time before Grey occupied the seat next to the Ambassador, which would put an end to the conversation.

As the Cohens moved to sit, the Ambassador sighed internally. The President’s unease was rolling off him in waves; he may have been the Farminan head of state, but there was no question as to who held the power in the room. Hopefully the food would be good enough to relax him somewhat.

OOC: A Macisikani would simply disappear the individual into a missing persons file, but I’m feeling bloodthirsty. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. And I’ll go get your walking stick, gramps

[Farmina]

The Cardinal grinned like a Cheshire cat. He enjoyed the intrigue – he enjoyed sitting at the big table, “Do you see any allies of the Emperor here?”

The Valdezs received their greetings from Grey and took their seats across from the Cardinal. Grey only had the Professor left to welcome – an empty seat sat between Anita Valdez and Malcolm Prince. The Prince was capable of the maths – but his deformed face was not capable of emotion.

OOC: Wow – I ended up getting like a full written apology. Unexpected. Still, some crimes are not easily forgiven.

[Macisikan]

The Ambassador smiled slightly at the Cardinal; the expression didn't reach his eyes.

"Considering that being a friend of 'Emperor' Justinian," he managed to pronounce the quotation marks, "would be flirting shamelessly with treason, I should think not. Which does raise the interesting question of my presence; while others may be hostile, I am neutral."

He nodded and smiled at the Valdezs when they sat, all charm and politeness.

---

OOC: I suppose it depends on if they're hot enough to forgive

[Farmina]

“Of course you’re neutral,” said the Cardinal, “Just as the Church is neutral in affairs of state.”

The Church’s neutrality covered the Church first actively promoting Justinian’s rule, then later striping any mention of the Emperor from its theological teachings. It covered the Church going toe-to-toe with the President over the Reformation, then brokering a peaceful compromise, before tearing the Reformation down.

The Professor entered the room – taking his seat between Prince and Anita Valdez. Lord Grey waddled over to his seat – slowly moving forward, supporting himself on his stick.

Cardinal Bridges leaned back in his chair, “Farmina and Macisikan have known each other for a long time. We are well versed in Macisikani neutrality.”

The decimation of the Messian spacefleet. The orbital bombardment of the last holdout Messian cities. Hundreds of thousands dead. Perhaps millions. Broken bodies. Charred corpses. Spaceships turned spacejunk. Messian warriors taken by the vacuum of space - their screams unheard and short-lived. Homes and factories - rubble, dust and flame. Burnt and bloodied children cried for parents who would not come. Macisikani neutrality at its very best.

OOC: I cannot forgive the disrespect. No caveats. BTW – posting may become erratic, I’m going to Perth for a couple of weeks.

[Macisikan]

Koryel showed little reaction to the Cardinal’s words.

“Of course,” he murmured, “there is neutrality, and there is neutrality,” he smiled as the Professor entered the room and sat, tilting his head as the Cardinal continued.

“Indeed Eminence, the Realm is neutral. So is a claymore mine. It is interesting to see happens when we are truly given cause to stop being neutral,” not a threat; a warning. The sort of warning you found on tubs of chlorine trifluoride.

There had been no popular exultation at the devastation of the Militia Enforced State. No victorious parades, no grand speeches of glory. No triumphalism at all on the part of the Macisikani; merely a sort of slightly annoyed exasperation. The then-First Minister had remarked at the time that it was not pleasant that the punitive action had to be performed, merely necessary. The whole affair was treated as a slight inconvenience, a hiccup during business as usual. The Macisikani had seemed more worried about the effects of the war on the Farminan population – the country was still shell-shocked – but hadn’t actually tried to do anything, operating under the impression that charity (especially from a nation of slightly-non-human, atheist, gay-promoting, monarchists) would not be well-received.


OOC: then kill all. And it’s OK, I was a bit in hospital, so erratic posting is excusable.

[Farmina]

The Cardinal smiled and gave a single knowing nod of the head. But his lips did not move. His eyes shifted. Lord Grey had taken his place at the end of the table, standing before his guests. You could feel every set of eyes in the room focus on the one immense man. As silence fell, Grey spoke, “My friends, you all know that there was a time, not that long ago, when Farmina was ruled by a tyrant. His legacy is burnt into our bones – we can never forget what he did. He kept us in cages. Those born poor would die poorer. And used his corporate cronies as our jailors.

Only a few years later, the Messians arrived on our shores, butchering all who stood in their way. Socialists rather than corporatists – tyrants in a different guise. They occupied our northern lands and imposed their evil will on our people. They stole our people's hard-earned income, seized our people’s family homes and took the food from our children’s mouths.

Any of God’s creatures, when you release them from a cruel cage, will bite you if you try to put it back in that cage. And so when Messians came, we bit the Messians like they never been bitten before. At the Pass, we ended the Messian advance. In Sciren, we decisively broke the Messian military machine. And in Dylarius, we utterly smashed the Messians – wiping out their armies and tearing down their corrupt political machine.”

The Macisikani had fought with a coldness – the executioner doing his duty with an admirable professionalism. By contrast, many Farminans took pride and pleasure in their enemy’s destruction. The appropriate metaphor? A chivalrous knight proving himself in the joust, unseating the enemy rider in fair combat? Or perhaps a serial killer salivating at the grizzly remains of his dismembered victim?

“What does West Liverson compare to this?” Tobias scratched his beard thoughtfully, “ Had it gone the other way, history would be the same. Our DRF would still be free and the Messian tyrants would still have met justice.”

The butler finally reached the Ambassador, and said in a barely audible tone, “I have a sav blanc and a cab merlot from Lord Grey’s personal collection. Or I could arrange something else. May I suggest starting with the sav blanc? The entrée is salmon, you see.”

Grey continued his sermon, his voice becoming firmer, “Our forces had entered West Liverson unopposed – the Messians were in retreat after their defeat at Sciren. The town was liberated from its oppressors. But as our troops planned to continue their advance – the Messians counterattacked.

The enemy fought with a vicious savagery – like frightened, wounded animals. But we would not let West Liverson fall back into the hands of tyrants – these people had every right to their liberty. Our causalities were terrible, we lost a soldier for every second civilian in the town. But on that day, through glorious sacrifice, we preserved West Liverson’s new found freedom.”

When proclaiming this sacrifice, Grey failed to mention that the enemy lost around the same numbers of troops as the Farminans. But then again, a Messian grunt was not the equal of a Farminan soldier – just ask the Farminans.

Tobias picked up his wine glass and lifted it to his guests. He paused briefly, allowing a moment for his guests to ready for the toast. “So I say, to the heroes of West Liverson, tonight we remember you – the glorious dead!”

The toast ran around the room, glasses raised in the air, “To the glorious dead!” And with that, Lord Grey finally took his seat.

OOC: Hospital? I hope it’s nothing serious.

[Macisikan]

As with the rest of the guests, the Ambassador’s jade-coloured gaze had focused on Lord Grey as he stood. During the speech it occasionally flickered around to the faces of the Farminans, before coming to rest back on Tobias.

“I have a sav blanc and a cab merlot from Lord Grey’s personal collection” the Ambassador cocked his head as the butler murmured in his ear. “Or I could arrange something else. May I suggest starting with the sav blanc? The entree is salmon, you see.”

“The sav blanc, please,” the volume of Koryel’s voice matched that of the butler; his attention refocused on Tobias, who was recounting the battle of West Liverson. Outwardly the Ambassador was a picture of tranquil attentiveness as Grey spoke of liberty and glory and sacrifice; internally he idly wondered if it was possible for a whole nation to experience post-traumatic stress.

He dutifully raised his glass with the others, politely echoing the toast, appending, in the privacy of his own head, the phrase lest we forget, but offered no statement aloud.

OOC: pathology said “no evidence of malignancy” – so not serious, just uncomfortable.

[Farmina]

With the wine glasses full, the footmen began to place steaming pieces of salmon in front of the guests. Although the flesh was steaming – it was still pink. The fish had drizzled over it a coconut sauce, with the tiniest hint of chilli and a touch of ginger. As a side, the meal was served with a crispy noodle salad. The servings were huge – easily passable for a main. Tobias Grey was the sort of man who would take it as an insult if any guests left hungry.

“Your Eminence,” asked Grey, looking to the Cardinal, “Will you lead us in grace?”

“Of course my Lord,” said Bridges bowing his head. He crossed himself, “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. O Lord bless these lands, our host and our people – that they may live in peace and prosperity. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.” The Cardinal crossed himself again.

“Amen,” echoed the guests, some crossing themselves. The Cohens were noticeable in not doing so. Malcolm Prince also did not cross himself, though that may have been due to the lack of movement in his arms.

Valdez took a mouthful of salmon, “Mister Cohen, the Cardinal prayed to God for peace, but what are you doing to deal with the violence on the streets of Farmina?”

“Is that anyway to address our Lord President?” asked Grey, who stopped eating, to rebuke his Moralist colleague, “To insult our President, and to do it at my table – it is an insult to me.” Grey’s face showed nothing.

“I apologise, and I unreservedly withdraw the question,” said Valdez. Cohen studied Valdez. Valdez looked away – a momentary glance to Grey said it all. The question was in now play.

Cohen patted his napkin against his lips, then looked around the room, looking each person in the eye as he gaze shifted, “I think the question is, what are we doing as a society? Who at this table has publicly denounced these terrorists – these self-styled Defenders?” Despite his strong words, Cohen spoke calmly and without malice. Since his encounter with Lord Grey, Cohen had managed to arrange his face. For the time being at least.

He glanced over towards the Macisikani ambassador, around the Cardinal, “The Maciskani Government has.” Cohen gave a bow of the head, “And I thank Macisikan for its unequivocal stance.”

OOC: Back in the capital

[Macisikan]

The Cohens weren’t alone in not crossing themselves; Koryel didn’t either. He also didn't say "Amen" - the Ambassador instead choose to observe the grace in respectful silence, hands neatly folded in his lap. He didn’t believe, and felt that participating would be an insult to his host – it would be insincere.

As soon as the Farminans began to eat, he began to make inroads into his dish; for such a slim man he could put it away. He seemed oddly amused by the interplay with Valdez; whereas Premier Valdir would have taken the man’s head off at the knees for that comment, Cohen was quite restrained. Or impotent. Could be both.

When the field expanded to include first Grey, then the rest at the table, he focused on his food at first; no wonder the Cohens had looked like they were under siege when they arrived. Then the President addressed him; fortunately between mouthfuls.

“And the Realm is pleased to take that stance,” he replied. “What these ‘defenders’ are doing is absolutely antithetical to a civil democracy, and it is undermining the fragile stability of the Democratic Republic; terrorists like this must be publicly denounced by any responsible leader. That trite saying about fighting monsters comes to mind, although I don’t think you can characterise the victims that severely. And they’re just making the existing sectarian strife even worse.”

[Farmina]

“Well argued,” said Cohen, “Very well argued Excellency. Wouldn’t you agree Lord Grey?”

Tobias, after taking a sip of wine, responded, “Our Macisikani friends are wise, as always.” He gave a small nod of respect to the Ambassador.

Cohen leaned back, “Speaking of sectarian strife, let’s not forget about the religious unrest. I wonder what the College of Cardinals doing to restore order?” Liz pushed away her half eaten salmon. Perhaps she’d had enough?

“I reject that insinuation,” said Cardinal Bridges, in a polite moderate tone, laying down his knife and fork, “No man loves peace more than a man of the cloth.”

“Gentleman, please,” said Grey, after emptying his glass of wine, “Can we simply have a pleasant meal, and talk as statesmen?”

He paused, but you could tell he had more to say. Then it came, “Besides, if anyone is to blame – surely it is Lady Durass. That woman is up to something..”

Cohen gave the Prince a momentary glance – who was being hand-fed by Lord Grey's butler – a moment of fleeting doubt. The moment passed. Cohen turned to Bridges, “A lawyer is simply representative of their client’s will.”

Cardinal Bridges returned the President’s gaze – but he said nothing. A murderous silence fell across the table. You waited, half expecting one of them to throw a punch, or perhaps lunge for the others neck.

The silence broke – Ivan Backle laid down his cutlery on his plate to signal he was finished, “I believe you are correct Lord President - a lawyer is simply representative of their client’s will. And as you know, Lady Durass was the boy-emperor’s lawyer.”


OOC: I'd like to clarify something from my previous post. The Cohens would have said Amen, but they did not cross themselves.

[Macisikan]

OOC: corrected.
IC:

Watching the Farminans talk, Koryel made a mental note to thank Grey later; he was invited to dinner, and instead was getting dinner and a show – for free!

He was also learning first-hand what the Tal Dumat reports had made clear; the Farminan polity was fractured, and badly. It was far worse than the Senate; personal animosity had taken root here, and that was far more poisonous that ideological difference. And that Cohen, ostensibly surrounded by hostile figures, was letting his nervousness and his doubts show… the man had a weakness there.

When Backle spoke, his gaze focused on the other man.

“That escalated quickly, to a rather extraordinary claim, ser,” he observed. “That this deposed monarch, long living on the charity of others who don’t care enough to provide more than an annual pension, branded as a traitor and widely despised, can exert such influence over your nation’s affairs. I trust there is evidence of this… of course, this would point to something far more worrying. Well, worrying for you,” the flash of a smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“If this whole affair is a result of some scheme of Justinian’s, and he continues to operate unchallenged, then you should know that Princess Kylara will be most gracious when she welcomes His Restored Imperial Majesty’s most excellent Ambassador to the Court of Light,” he paused to sip his wine.

“Changes of government in foreign nations are internal affairs; your polity is not dependent on ours in any way, and the Senate is not inclined to act sans cause. That has been our policy since Confederacy.”

There it was; the Federated Star Empire would sit back and watch the whole messy business unfurl, because Farmina wasn't considered inside the Empire's sphere of influence. They wouldn’t lift a finger unless someone gave them a reason to. It was, humorously, the exact same position that the United Imperial Kingdoms had held during the Messian war.

[Farmina]

Everyone had understood Macisikani neutrality – but to hear the position put so firmly...the majority of the guests were a little stunned. They could hear the DRF burning, as the Emperor stepped over charred corpses to shake the Macikisani ambassador's hand. They could hear the Emperor and the Ambassador exchanging polite and professional courtesies, as imperial forces stormed the Parliament and the Presidential Palace...

But Grey was unphased, he had heard a similar form of words before – back when Snyder and not the Emperor was his main concern. He smiled (just a little – just enough for the Ambassador to see) and ate another mouthful of salmon, before setting down his cutlery.

Backle seemed to feel the need to respond to the Ambassador, “Your Excellency, you doubt the imperials are moving against the DRF? Justinian has gone quiet. The Supreme Court has crowned the boy-emperor as Defender of the Faith – effectively writing the crown back into the constitution. And...”

Grey gave Backle a single glance – the biographer obeyed. Cohen thought to himself Biographer? I suspect Lord Grey writes the biographies, and Mister Backle just puts his name on the cover.

“Has everyone had enough of the salmon?” asked Grey. He picked up his glass, remembered it was empty and put it down, “Does anyone need another drink?”

[Macisikan]

Koryel seemed to find a lot of things amusing; the interplay before, the verbal barbs, the astonishment, and even Backle’s protestations. The majority of his amusement came from the fact that only Grey had actually caught his implication. Everything the guests visualised would come to pass; the Senate would look on with equanimity, Koryel presenting Justinian with a message signed by the Premier herself, over the seal of the King-Emperor, recognising the boy as the one true restored sovereign of Farmina, even while the DRF burned. And they wouldn’t do anything to stop it.

Unless they were given cause. And only Grey had picked up on that; Koryel liked the larger man. Dangerous though he could be, he at least used his brain for something other than keeping his ears apart.

At Backle’s words, Koryel had simply raised an eyebrow, mentally downgrading his estimation of that man’s intelligence by several notches. You could practically hear the response lining itself up behind the Ambassador’s teeth.

“Thank you, Ser Grey,” Koryel smiled at his host, “the salmon was delightful,” more than half of it was gone. “And yes, if I could get a refill please?”

[Farmina]

The footmen removed the entrée plates, as the butler began pouring out fresh wine – starting Grey and moving clockwise. “The main is a slow-roasted pork belly served with a caramelised red wine vinegar sauce,” announced the butler, meaning either the sav blanc or the cab merlot would be an appropriate choice.

Tobias requested the red – Backle and the Valdezs followed suit. Professor Mayhew requested a rosé – so the butler disappeared, leaving the head footman to take over the pouring. “I hear the re-establishment of the monasteries is going well,” observed Professor Mayhew, trying to change the topic.

Malcolm Prince said nothing, except to request the cab merlot as the footman went past.

“That they are being re-established, suggests things are not going well at all,” said Liz Cohen. Both of the Cohens stayed with the white wine again. The footman filled one glass, but then the bottle was empty. He left for a replacement.

“The apostlolic lifestyle is godly thing - a life of solitude, contemplation and celibacy,” said the Cardinal, “And monastery life is to live as the apostles lived.”

But Cohen would not let his ruined legacy go undefended, “Oh I realise the value of the apostlolic way of life. But I do not recall the part of the Bible where the apostles sodomised each other, preyed on the youngest in their order…It’s a rather unusual interpretation of celibacy.”

As the butler returned with a rosé for Professor Mayhew, the Cardinal responded calmly, although he was turning just slightly red, “These allegations are…”

“Well founded,” admitted Grey, “The monasteries do much good and godly work. But I remember when I was President, there were reports. I guess when people close themselves off from the world – you must expect some abuses. And even men of the cloth are human.” The Cardinal had no response.

Having filled Mayhew’s glass, the butler picked up the bottle of red that the footman had left behind, skipped the Cardinal who still hadn’t finished his first glass, and went over to the Ambassador. “Your wine sir? If you want the sav blanc again, Elton will be back in a second.”

[Macisikan]

“No, the red will be fine Ser, thank you,” Koryel replied to the butler.

Again he’d assumed the role of silent observer; aside from silently wondering what anyone had against sodomy, he had absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation. Most monasteries in his homeland were museums these days, designated heritage sites and in the hands of the Trust. The Realm was, under the Third Instrument of Governance, a secular state; the Imperial Federal Government didn’t interfere in religious matters unless those matters put people in harm’s way, and even then it usually employed existing laws.

[Farmina]

The butler filled the Ambassador’s second, larger, wine glass with red. The head footman returned a moment later with more white wine for the Cohens.

Valdez shifted the topic back, “Is there anyone who thinks that having Lady Durass wandering the streets of Farmina is good for the DRF?”

The President took a sip of wine, “Well I admit, that she had the Reformation struck down is certainly a pain, but what’s done is done. The court’s decision is what it is.”

Cardinal left unsaid the gains the College had made from Durass' involvement in the matter of the Reformation.

[Farmina]

The meals started coming out. Slabs of roast pork, intricately arranged, on a bed of basmati rice. A dish was placed before the Ambassador. Roast vegetables – they smelt slightly of fennel and parsley – ringed the plate. Caramelised red wine vinegar drizzled over the top.

“But surely, the Emperor’s advocate...” said Backle – it was unclear in what sense he meant ‘advocate’, “...involving herself in specific, highly political matters is a cause for concern.”

More dishes came down. Cohen responded firmly - he was gaining confidence, “The Emperor is not going to return to power through legal battles. The courts will not declare the entire DRF legally invalid. So if Justinian wants his crown, he must take it. I say let him come. I have the armies of Farmina behind me.”

The last dish went down. Cohen tried the meat, “Delicious Lord Grey. Truly amazing. I must say you have outdone yourself.”

But Tobias Grey was eating a different meal. The meat was white. When you chewed on it was bloody and raw, red juice running down your chin. You’d have thought that being young, the meat would be tender. But the boy-emperor was tough – Tobias had tried to digest Justinian once before and nearly choked. This time, Grey intended to use a sharper knife, and cut the meat into smaller pieces.

[Macisikan]

The Ambassador simply sat back, observing, and tucking in when his meal arrived. He had absolutely nothing to say at the moment. His government, secularist to the core, had made its stance clear on the Reformation (bad idea, bad execution); he thought the whole thing had been an exercise in monumental stupidity. It would have been quite rude to air these views at the dinner table though.

He also found the personal animosity displayed towards Justinian to be distasteful despite the crimes the boy had committed. Tal Dumat reports strongly indicated that the deposed Emperor was mentally ill and had never, ever, been treated for it – so there was that angle. He held there were a couple of options available, and would state them if asked, but frankly he, and his masters, found the whole business very strange indeed.

[Farmina]

Grey studied the silent ambassador for a moment. He ate a small mouthful of meat, washing it down with a large mouthful of wine – most of the glass. Grey leaned in towards Koryel. He stroked his beard just slightly, enigmatically, “After dinner we can talk somewhere more private.”

Meanwhile the battle for action by the Farminan government continued. “Wouldn’t it be better to stop the imperial rot now?” asked Backle, “Before the boy-emperor gains the confidence to strike? Before the boy-emperor murders another million people?”

Cohen flinched at the million dead. Grey smiled, but he hid it behind his face. It had been eighteen years since he penned the fact that the boy-emperor had murdered 1.2 million people – and yet the million dead, the real and the ficticious alike, could still reach up from their graves and grab hold of the living.

“That’s the argument those terrorists make,” noted Cohen, after along pause, “Do you sympathise with the so-called Defenders?”

“I am not sorry that imperial loyalists are dead...” said Backle, slowly, cautiously. By law, to sympathise with terrorists, was to be a terrorist.

It gave Valdez, a lawyer by trade, a thought. He stroked his beard, trying to mimic Lord Grey, trying to look enigmatic. Instead he looked like he was pleasuring himself, “Lord President, would it be treason for a man to deny you any of the rightful powers of your office?”

“I see where you are going,” said Cohen, “You think that since Durass took my religious powers and gave them to the Cardinals...” Technically, she gave then to the Emperor.

“It is only treason if it is a rightful power,” interjected the Cardinal. Points for the Cardinal – salt in the wound for the President.

“My point is broader,” said Valdez, taking a sip of wine, “If Durass envisages the President’s offices, his legitimate offices, in the hands of boy-emperor then isn’t she a traitor?”

“Perhaps,” said Cohen, “But you could never prove it. How could you? Arrest her? Interrogate her?”

You could hear the interview in your head, with “no comment” the answer to every question.