Unfinished Business

[Treznor]

A short, indefinably ugly man steps out of the armored limousine and approaches the villa slowly. His greying hair betrays his years, although his body remains hale. In his mind he ponders the task to which he has set himself.

I've put this off far too long. She deserves better. I'm not going to make her wait any longer. I hope I can get some time alone with her to explain it.

He steps up to the front door, nodding at the security detail who are familiar with his unanounced visits. Then with one last deep breath, he enters the villa and bellows, "Marcus! Where are you, boy?"

His sensitive ears catch the scuttling of juvenile feet, which gradually resolved into the thundering footsteps of his son.

"Papa! When did you get here?" the boy demands enthusiastically, not even out of breath for all the sprinting he'd done from a cold start.

"Just now. Where's your mother?"

"In the capital, working." The boy is taller by a full head, filled with youthful notions of honor and responsibility. He approved of his mother's work, less so of his father's, but he accepts that his turn to bring change will come.

Figures. I should have asked, but...I can wait.

"Go fetch your old man a drink and we'll talk."

"Yes, Sir. Double scotch, on the rocks." Marcus sprints off, apparently unwilling to move any slower if he can help it.

In the background, so faint human ears couldn't pick it up, there is additional movement. She is here. It is not unexpected. Unwelcome, but there is nothing to be done. She can be ignored for the time being. It is time to renew the bond with his son, as he always does when he visits. In a few months the boy will come back with him, to spend time in his own capital. He looks forward to it, as he always does.

"Now then. What did S.H.O.D.A.N. teach you today?"

At least it gives him more time to prepare himself for the conversation to come.

[Treznor]

"I don't give a damn who you think you are," the guard says with a snarl, a hand hovering close to the pistol at his belt. "Nobody walks in and sees the Emperor. If you've got cause to see him, you go through channels like everybody else."

The young man appears unarmed, dressed in an outlandish jumpsuit that could have come from any number of star-faring nations. The guard doesn't recognize the cut, but he can tell from the accent that he's not from any Imperial territory, not even the Imperial Colony of Jewel on the far side of the universe, however that works.

"I am not nobody," the young man replies in an almost musically sibilant tone. "My name is Nicholas Roshenko. My mother was Natalia Roshenko, of the Arganoth Union of Light. She was an intimate of Devon Treznor for several years. If you send a message to him, I'm sure he'll be able to confirm this."

"Never heard of it," the guard snaps. "I never heard of you either, or your mother. If you don't turn around and leave right now then there's gonna be trouble."

"That would be unwise," Nicholas replies softly.

"Fine. Have it your way." The guard pulls his gun from its holster. The lobby suddenly becomes very quiet. Then, very quickly, civilians begin to flee as a half-dozen guards appear with rifles ready. Nicholas eyes them all, scowling.

"There a problem here, Corporal?" asks an older woman. Unlike the others she hasn't aimed her rifle anywhere but holds it down at an angle, ready to sweep in any direction.

"This foreign pissant thinks he can march up to the Emperor's throne and talk to him without so much as a by-your-leave," the guard informs her. "He's been asked to leave, and he refuses. I think it's time he paid a visit to one of our fine hostels, Sargeant."

"You may be right, Corporal." The woman nods, but still doesn't raise her rifle. "What do you say, sir? Will you leave quietly or do we take you into custody?"

"I am the son of Devon Treznor," Nicholas informs her gravely. "I need to see him."

"Funny. I've seen the son of the Emperor, and you don't look much like him."

"He is my brother. Half-brother," Nicholas concedes with a shrug. "They don't know about me yet. I didn't know about this until last year. My mother told me on her deathbed."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," the sargeant informs him. "But you still need to leave. This is your last warning."

"I will not be denied."

The sargeant finally raises her weapon. "Smitty, take him to the cells."

One of the taller guards shoulders his rifle and pulls out a pair of metal cuffs. "Turn around, please."

Nicholas looks Smitty up and down before shaking his head. "Please don't do this."

"I said, turn around," Smitty orders. He clamps a hand down on Nicholas' shoulder, intent on moving him by force. To his shock, he is the one turned around and launched into a pair of his comrades.

Nicholas becomes a blur of movement. After propelling Smitty away he twists to duck under the sargeant's line of fire and comes up next to the corporal. A simple wristlock disarms the man, and Nicholas moves again, snatching up the fallen weapon and turning the guard around. When he finally stops moving he has his back against the wall and the guard in front of him, gun held to the man's head.

"Please stop. I do not wish to hurt anyone, but I must see my father. I have no other choice."

The sargeant blinks in surprise. The Guardsmen aren't an elite militia in the Empire, but the Emperor doesn't skimp on training. To be handled so easily by a lone, unarmed stranger is not going to look good on her report. She glances around to make sure the civilians have already evacuated. Excellent, no witnesses. She raises her rifle.

"Sorry about this, Keith."

"Sarge?" The corporal looks decidedly unhappy. He knows what comes next, and knows he isn't going to like it.

Too bad. The sargeant pulls the trigger, and lightning erupts from the muzzle of her gun. An ultraviolet laser burns a path through the air, clearing the way for the electrical charge that immediately follows, impacting on the corporal's chest and engulfing both him and his captor.

Nicholas' face bears the expression of abrupt dismay before he falls unconscious, and they both slump to the ground.

The sargeant doesn't lower her rifle as she issues orders to her team. "Get Peters to Medical. He's gonna have a hell of a headache when he wakes up. The prisoner goes to the cells. Their medical staff will check him whenever."

The Guardsmen move to comply. Peters is taken downstairs, to a sublevel basement where some of the Empire's top physicians wait against need for the Emperor or his staff. The foreigner is taken out of the building to a facility across town where dissidents and other undesireables are kept. The medical facilities there aren't quite so cutting edge, but they suffice. The shock will wear off before long, and while neither man will appreciate it when they wake up, they're still alive.

The sargeant has her team sweep the area to make sure the foreigner was alone before she gives the all-clear. The Guardsmen do not take changes with the Emperor's safety, even when he's not in town.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

He was there again. She winced slightly at the sound of his booming voice, and her brother’s enthusiastic response.

She didn’t begrudge Marcus, really. Not really. Not much, in any case. But every time he came for a visit, it felt like an invasion, with her pleasant home disrupted, and herself relegated to something like the local beggar that everyone sees, but no one wants to acknowledge.

To be fair, her mother never treated her that way. Neither did Marcus, though he did, as expected, get a bit wrapped up with his father during those times. But just the reaction from him was enough to make the feeling stick. And from that feeling came the additional feelings of anger, resentment, and oddly enough, a deep longing for acceptance, in spite of it all.

Knowing how things would be if she showed herself, she crept as quietly as she could – which admittedly, was amazingly quiet – up the stairs from the kitchen, down the hallway, and through her mother’s bedroom to sit on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, her back against the warm surface of the house.

It wouldn’t be long before her mother got there, now that he’d shown up – unless there were something pressing, she generally found out he was in town, or was waiting if she knew in advance. She didn’t begrudge her mother either. Again, not too much. After all, the man did make her happy in a lot of ways, even if they did still have their fights (all too often about herself). And her mother had tried to explain so much of why he was so important to her, in spite of his attitude towards her only daughter. And though she understood it all, and tried not to blame … it still hurt. And they both knew, and understood, and went forward anyway.

She’d wait for her here. At least then she wouldn’t be alone, and wouldn’t feel like she didn’t belong there.

--- --- ---

Nathicana anxiously looked ahead as the car pulled into the long driveway towards the villa. It was one of his unexpected visits, and to be honest, she’d rather missed him. The stress of the day seemed to melt away as she turned over plans for later in her mind. There were many things the years had not dulled her appetite for, and he was one of them.

And she was quite unrepentant about that fact.

Checking herself in her compact, she adjusted a stray strand of dark hair, then stepped gracefully out of the car after it pulled to a stop. Her heels clicked smartly on the paving stones and steps that led up to the front door, pausing only to greet the guardsmen and confirm that Devon was indeed inside. Upon entry, she set aside her attaché case, and looked around expectantly, her smile warm and welcoming as she finally makes eye contact.

“Its good to see you, Dev. Did you have a pleasant trip in?”

[Treznor]

Treznor smiles as he hears the familiar footsteps approach the front door. He nods to his son, who is looking in that direction. "Crack open a Delacourt for your mother, please."

Marcus bounds to his feet, and Treznor suppresses a wince. The boy has too much energy for three people. A consequence of S.H.O.D.A.N.'s genetic modifications handed down to him? He makes a mental note to ask. He can't imagine what it's like to grow up already optimized for speed, strength and intelligence. Those changes had came to him much later, but he prefers not to dwell on that event.

Treznor opts to stay in his seat until Nathicana actually makes an appearance. She doesn't delay, but comes straight to him.

“Its good to see you, Dev. Did you have a pleasant trip in?”

Then he stands, his drink already set aside, and steps up to his wife to kiss her soundly. He doesn't allow the amused cough of his son behind him to interrupt. He is not ashamed to show desire for this woman.

"I did, thank you. But it's much more pleasant to see you." Treznor winks broadly and turns to take the glass waiting in Marcus' hands and pass it on to Nathicana. "Thank you, son. Now, give your mother a kiss and excuse us, please. We have some private matters to discuss."

He catches the beginnings of a frown on Marcus' face, gone before it can truly form, but the boy nods dutifully. "Of course, Signore. Signora." He kisses his mother on the cheeck. "Ciao, Mama."

Treznor waits until Marcus is truly out of earshot -- he'd caught him eavesdropping years ago -- before he sits down again and tosses back his drink. He gestures for Nathicana to have a seat.

Better just come out and say it. He takes a deep breath and begins. "Red, I'm going to need him soon."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

She lovingly returns her son's kiss, patting his shoulder comfortingly, then schools her face to her usual 'business' mode as she turns to look at Devon, keeping her emotions in check. She'd known this day was coming. They'd both prepared for it, even if all the details hadn't been fully discussed - they had been understood, since the day they first held Marcus in their arms.

Nodding, she takes a seat across from him, all the better to talk face to face, adjusts her skirt, and takes a long, slow sip of her wine before setting it aside.

"How soon?" she asks neutrally, studying the man carefully.

[Treznor]

Treznor feels some of the tension ease at the Dread Lady's mild response. She took that better than I expected.

"In the next year, maybe two, I plan to step down. My government is working as smoothly as it ever has, and additional tweaking is giving diminishing returns. I don't have to micromanage everything like I used to, which is why i was able to make this impromptu visit. But Marcus is approaching his majority, and I need to get him up to speed before I dump it all in his lap. The people are tired of my tyrannical reign. They're ready for change, and they need to see him as part of it. So I'm going to need him to start showing up in Devonton more often."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

A plethora of things were running through her mind as he spoke, not the least of which was concern for her son.

"Are you sure, Dev? I mean, he's so young still. Do you really think he's ready? You do plan on maintaining behind the scenes yes? At the very least as an advisor? Of course you should ease him in ... more public appearances, yes, perhaps a subtle media campaign ..." Yes, she was starting to ramble, her emotions getting the better of her as she started coming up with more reasons in her mind why it was too soon.

She paused then, and looked at him questioningly. "And once he is settled firmly, should all go well, does that mean you'll be spending more time here, eventually?"

[Treznor]

Treznor nods gently as he watches the emotions play across her face. The Dread Lady Nathicana is an accomplished diplomat and a formidable poker player, but he can read her like a book. He could even before S.H.O.D.A.N. tweaked his brain, but it became even easier afterward.

"Yes, yes I know, yes for a while and yes absolutely," he replies in order. "I'm not going to throw him in and hope he swims. He's an extremely intelligent and capable young man, but nobody should be handed that sort of responsibility without preparation. He's received the best foundation we could give him; I was testing him earlier and I have no complaints about his education. He's flexible, observant and intuitive. Most of all, he knows when he doesn't know something, and he's not afraid to go find out rather than make something up.

"I'll be there, at first. Hell, I'll be there for him as long as I draw breath. But at first he'll just be making appearances, getting him into the public eye. We'll have him make speeches and attend functions. I'll shift more and more of my duties to him until I feel he's up to speed. Then I'll officially surrender power to him and step down. I'll stay on after, give him advice when he asks for it until I fully retire and live here with you."

Treznor glances at his glass, still empty, and stands up to refill it. "I've waited a long time for this chance to finally be with you. For all the mistakes I've made I don't regret it, but I'm ready to retire and settle down. I'm coming up on the endgame of my career, and I'm proud to say Marcus is just about ready to take over for me."

He glances at Nathicana's glass, still half-full. He lifts the bottle of Delacourt and waggles it. "Freshen up your drink for you?"

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana shakes her head absently at the offer for more, leaving her glass sitting where it is for now, then glances up at him, and smiles half-heartedly. “No, no thank you, Dev.”

Marcus was a fine young man, and she was very proud of him – and just as equally protective as she could manage without smothering him. When it came down to it, both children were her pride and joy, and she would do anything for them within her power. And she had, to the best of her abilities, while at the same time, trying to let them grow on their own, make their own decisions, and grow up as normally as one could expect, given their stations, and intended life’s paths.

It was a lot to think about, and like any mother, she was reluctant to let go, even while being proud of his accomplishments and progress. She takes a moment to get more comfortable, pulling her legs up under her on the couch, laying an arm along the back and resting her chin on it as she watches him.

“It all seems so … sudden. I mean, we’ve been through so much over the years. This ought to be what I’ve been working for all come to fruition, but now the moment is here, I’m just not ready,” she finally admits, then reaches for the wine, taking her time with it, clearly gathering herself for the point she hates having to bring up, but one that has to be addressed.

“Please, lets not take the discussion down the wrong path, but as much as you dislike the fact, eventual plans involve more than just you, and I, and Marcus.”

There, I’ve said it. Now to see how he plans on dealing with things from here on out.

It had been hard enough at times just with the visits, and trying to keep all her plates spinning. If he were to spend more time, even come to live with her finally; if they were to actually settle down and truly be together, the matter of Naiya would have to be resolved.

“You know my intentions there. And whether or not you’ve chosen to pay attention, she’s shown herself to be quite adept, and carried herself well. And whatever else may or may not happen, this is her home, and I intend it to remain her home until she chooses to make it otherwise. And even then, as my daughter,” she said, firmly but gently, hoping her unsubtle appeal would in some way help, “she will be welcome here, by me.”

[Treznor]

Treznor refills his own glass and sits back down. His metabolism burns through alcohol so quickly he's long abandoned any moderation of his consumption, although for appearances sake he saves his heavy drinking for private moments like this. It had been a long time since he'd felt anything more than tipsy, and at the moment he isn't even close to that.

"It seems that way, doesn't it? But he's almost officially a man. He's known this was his duty all his life, and he's never expressed a desire for anything else. Sometimes I think he's eager to take over so he can fix the things he feels I do wrong. And maybe he's right: maybe there are some things he can do better. The sooner he starts facing the challenge, the better prepared he'll be to handle them.

"And it's not like he won't have time to pursue other interests. Like I said, the Empire runs itself fairly well at the moment. He'll have time for real vacations and alternative study if he chooses. He'll want to choose an Empress, or at least a consort before too long but I'm not going to push him into a marriage of the State."

Treznor drains his glass again and sets it aside. He abandons his seat to be closer to Nathicana, sitting next to her and laying a hand on her knee. "It won't be tomorrow, or next week. He'll need to finish his education before the real learning begins. We'll all have time to get used to this change, but it does mean he'll be coming back to the villa less and less. Our boy is growing up, and we can't shelter him much longer. He's already officially an adult by Imperial standards, but I'm following Dominion tradition in this."

When she mentions the living arrangements, his face turns hard and he withdraws his hand. Yes, he knows exactly what she's talking about, and he doesn't want to discuss it. Eventually he nods sharply. "This is your home, and you always have the right to choose who you allow in it. You always have. And..." his expression softens slightly. "She's your daughter. I never denied that. She hasn't displayed any of...his traits that I know of. Personality-wise, anyway. If I'd had reason to suspect her, I would have discussed it with you before. The thing is, she's still young by his standards. Her kind have a much longer development cycle. She's shown no dangerous traits yet, but next year? Next decade? I..."

He sees the storm brewing inside her and cuts himself short. "I'm sorry. We've been over this before. I'll stop. I suppose I kind of entertained the fantasy that when you decide to retire, we might go off somewhere like Jewel and start a new life away from everyone else, maybe forge a new home in the frontier. There's still an awful lot of undeveloped land there."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“I’d sometimes thought that too, though I think letting go here would be hard,” she admits, calming herself down, not really wanting to fight right now either. “And yes, she is, and no, she hasn’t. And given my lack of reference for such things, I’ve no idea how long she may live, though I hope whatever happens, it will be a long and happy life somehow.” Of course part of that was a lie, but how much of one she wasn’t really sure, and certainly wasn’t about to bring it up now.

The rest of the arguments, excuses, explanations can all wait for later. She reaches for him then, needing him close, in spite of the conflicting emotions roiling inside – perhaps even in part because of them.

“You’re right in some regards at least. He’s got some firm opinions on right and wrong, and how things ‘ought to be’ whether they are or not. And for those things where your opinions clash, I believe he has some good people he can look to for honest advice, though I very much hope you have dependable people on your end who are as adept at assisting leadership along another path as they have with yours,” she says, turning the conversation back to Marcus.

“I’m glad to hear you’re in no hurry to get him married, because I’d rather that not get rushed either. And yes, you have done a fine job of getting your nation running like clockwork – even if it puts you in direct competition with my own.” This earns him a wry smile – an ongoing competition, often joked about privately while publicly fighting hard to get the upper hand.

“Hopefully he won’t ever have to fight as hard as we did. I mean, this is what we’ve worked for in the end, though god knows I never imagined it when we first started down this path.”

She sighs, then nestles in against him if he allows it. “You’re right. And don’t think I enjoy saying that. But you’re right – its time. I don’t have to like it, and I don’t have to be ready for it, so long as he is. Just know I’ll be dropping in more often while he’s there. And … have patience with me, Dev. He’s my little bambino still, no matter how big he gets. You know damn well I’ll have my days.”

[Treznor]

Treznor doesn't hide the relief he feels at Nathicana's mild response with regard to her daughter. He didn't know if they would ever get past it, but for the moment they had forestalled the inevitable argument. He reaches out to her in response and pulls her in, treasuring the closeness that seems all-too rare these days. "We'll figure it out. We will."

He leans back, still cradling her and stroking her hair. "Marcus will have all the support he needs. He has the resources of an Empire at his fingertips, and if I may say so, one with significant resources. He's made friends among our allies, people with good judgment, and there's no lack of experienced people in Devonton who can continue to mentor him when he needs it. He'll figure out who he can trust and who he can't. I just...sometimes worry about some of the things he'll need to do. Being Emperor isn't like directing traffic. People live and die because of our decisions, and I don't think he really appreciates that yet. I hope he doesn't have to experience it as closely as you and I have."

He leans back and kisses her lightly. "He's growing up to be a man I'm proud of. He's not our little bambino any more, and we'd dishonor him to treat him that way. Hold on to that thought in the months to come, if you can."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathi curls up close, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat, the touch of his hands, the familiar scents and sensations all a comfort in spite of all the thoughts tumbling around in her mind. He’d said ‘not yet’, and that there was still time. She’d just have to make the most of it, and do whatever she could to make sure her boy was as prepared as possible for when those days finally came.

“I think he sometimes believes he can get around the live and die problem,” she murmurs gently, fingertips tracing familiarly along his chest and arm. “I haven’t treated him like a child for some time now, even if I do think of him that way now and then. Honestly Dev, I never thought I’d live long enough to get to this point. Everything past taking and holding the Dominion has been new territory. Especially being a mother. I promise, for his sake, not to burden him with any guilt over leaving, or growing up and away the way kids are supposed to do – as we’ve taught them to. At least, I’ll do my best, because that will be best for him in the long run.”

She smiles up at him then, reaching up to draw him in gently with her hand for another soft kiss. “We’ve done a damn fine job, even with all the complications. I don’t think we could ask for better considering the circumstances. And even then – a damn fine job. Better than I could have hoped, even if he’s got a streak of idealism Scolopendran-wide. He’s smart, he’ll adapt. And he’ll likely end up better than the both of us combined given half a chance. Certainly with cleaner hands if nothing else.”

Talking about it all had her emotional, though she was trying hard to set those emotions aside in favor of simple discussion. She needed him then, needed that closer connection, needed him to stay for more than an hour or so. And she was certain he knew it. After so many years, there were plenty of things that need never be said to be understood.

[Treznor]

He does not know how long he's been there, or how much longer he has to wait. The cell they threw him in is relatively small, and he's had several roommates since the beginning of his incarceration. His head pounds, his body aches and he has trouble focusing on objects. They feed him on a regular basis, but the meal never varies. Some sort of thick gruel that leaves a metallic aftertaste in his mouth. He suspects it's a low-quality synthetic that incorporates enough of the basic nutrients to pass as food. It also gives him a mild case of the runs, making dehydration a problem.

They've been "interrogating" him regularly. While they've been careful not to break bones, the bruises aren't healing. He knows he's not going to be able to take much more of this.

He hears the heavy clank of the lock disengaging, and slowly raises his head to attempt to focus on the arrival of his jailor.

"On yer foot, goombah!" the man says gruffly. Nicholas can barely understand his speech, but the contempt is unmistakable.

He nods carefully and attempts to pull himself to an upright position. The effort leaves him dizzy and nauseous, so he pauses with his head hanging.

"I said, on yer feet!" The Guardsman roughly hauls Nicholas to a standing position, which almost results in Nicholas losing what little is left in his stomach. He struggles to keep the nausea at bay, which leaves him nothing to remain upright. The Guardsman is forced to catch him as he topples forward.

"Damn you, prettyboy! You're bloody useless!" The Guardsman nods to his partner, who helps him half-drag Nicholas out of the room and down the hallway.

Is it time for another "interrogation?" Apparently so. Nicholas doesn't even attempt to struggle; it would be futile, even if he had the energy. He has nothing left to give them. All he can do now is invent creative lies to make the agony stop.

The Guardsmen dump him onto the raised chair, but do not strap him in. Curious, this change in routine. He lifts his head wearily and sees a black-clad man in the corner, watching him intently. The stranger doesn't wear the uniform of a Guardsman, so Nicholas can't begin to guess who he might be.

"Get out," the man growls, and the Guardsman flee. Also curious. He turns to address Nicholas directly. "My apologies for your treatment. How are you?"

"My compliments to your maitre'd," Nicholas croaks. His throat is dry. "The accomodations have been stimulating, and the staff highly entertaining."

The man frowns. "My name is Benjamin Vitner. I'm the Minister of Imperial Intelligence. You came to my attention this morning, and I came as quickly as I could."

"I'm gratified. How long have I been here?"

"Eleven days."

Eleven days. Sirithil have mercy.

Ben regards him suspiciously. "Can you walk?"

"Your staff has been so accomodating I haven't had the need. My legs are weak from disuse."

"Don't play with me, boy. I've seen your interrogation reports. I saw how the Guardsmen brought you in. I didn't realize how much they had mistreated you."

"I have no way to gauge the mistreatment your Guardsmen perpetuate on their prisoners. But I was ill when I came here. I tried to explain when I was arrested."

"Your mother died a year ago, you said." Nicholas observes that Ben doesn't consult any notes before speaking. Either the Minister is a quick study or has been going over his file for some time.

"Yes, she died last year of a genetic ailment. I came here seeking my father to obtain a sample of his DNA so the doctors can use it to reinforce mine."

"About that. We haven't yet confirmed the relationship you claim with the Emperor. I contacted him as soon as I saw your file, and he admits he it is possible, but if it's true he never knew about you."

"Surely a simple paternity test would verify my mother's claims."

"There's nothing simple when it comes to the Emperor. He's a very complicated man."

"My mother said he never did anything the easy way."

"No, he never does."

Ben nods as though he's made a decision. He lifts his hand to his mouth. "Alpha Six-Six. Code 7."

"What does that mean?"

"It means my team will bring medics to transport you to the Imperial Headquarters. We have the best doctors in the Empire, there."

"It is my understanding that the medical technology of the Empire of Treznor is inferior to that of my nation. Your doctors will not be able to cure my ailment."

"No, I don't expect they will. I expect they'll be able to help with the beatings. We know someone who might be able to do more, though."

"Who would that be?"

"That's not your concern right now. I'll make a personal request to see if she'll take your case."

[Melkor Unchained]

The place in mind is always sweet
It's wonderful and time to meet
Here's a new thing - gotta change up
Got to let go of the past
For a new thing - for some new ground
Only change will make it last
--Paul Weller, "New Thing"

"Well, this ought to be interesting," muses Konrad, pulling off his reading glasses and setting them on the table, casually discarding a document. "Looks like the last obstacle has been cleared." Konrad slides his glance over to his wife, who he imagines is very happy to hear this but doesn't appear to be showing it.

Across the table Konrad's uncle, Wilhelm Bradley Althalon, takes a sip of bourbon and nods slightly as he sets the glass down. "Your father would be pleased. The Talicids have their uses but forging a foreign policy is likely not one of them. I hate to marginalize them like this, but they seem dead-set in opposing your wishes in this area."

Konrad nods. "True. They were eager enough to bolster the Northwatch, but I long ago grew tired of their efforts to continue Arda's isolation. They're right to insist we focus on rebuilding--especially in Dunland--but infrastructure and economy are two sides of the same coin. We can rebuild our roads and cities sure, but as I've said many times, our populace will have a hard time earning wealth unless we start trading again."

The Empress Nadia Roark-Althalon clears her throat, and the two men look to her; Konrad with a raised eyebrow. "Except that Marcus Bolan is still the co-chair of the Economic Planning Committee for some reason. The Talicids and their cohorts have their strengths, but economic development doesn't seem to be one of them. Marcus is always trying to look for ways to keep failing government companies afloat."

"That's true," concurs Wilhelm before slicing himself another strip of meat. "When Goda Chemical went under last year, he tried to move heaven and earth to keep it up."

Konrad waves a hand dismissively, leaning back in his seat a bit. "I'm not sure his position matters so much anymore. Now that I've forced Merik's resignation, I doubt there will be any meaningful opposition to finally making diplomatic overtures. Without Merik and his cronies in control of the Foreign Office--whether they had anything to do with the Talicids or not--I can make my moves without fear of bureaucratic or public opposition."

"From them at least," retorts Nadia, apparently still not convinced. "I can think of a couple private media outlets that will try to rip you a new one for this."

"Careful, dear," warns the Angsiyan, casually sipping his own drink, inhaling sharply as he sets it down. "I can't be seen to simply be firing or marginalizing my enemies; I'd lose the support of the middle class. A little dissent is healthy, as long as it comes from the right places."

Wilhelm grins. "You are your father's son."

Nadia shrugs slightly and turns her attention to the remains of her noodles. Silence lingers for a moment as the three of them ponder the situation. Finally, the Empress finishes her dish and pushes it towards the center of the table. "Who do we send? Have you any idea who you want to run the Foreign Office now?"

"Kit, I think," answers Konrad without missing a beat. "He's been the best guy in that office for the last six or eight years; ever since Ruslan retired. I'll probably appoint him tomorrow and make this his first assignment. The DLN is a logical first choice for us for a lot of reasons, and I have no reason to suspect that Nathicana won't appreciate the gesture on some level."

"But don't you actually know this woman?" inquires Nadia. "Wouldn't a Foreign Office delegation seem too..." she pauses for a moment, scanning the ceiling as she searches for the right word. "Stuffy? too formal? She might wonder why you don't come in person, given the history you two seem to share," she points out, nonchalantly reaching for her wine.

Konrad and Wilhelm exchange a curious glance, and the Angsiyan turns to face his wife as she sips and sets down her glass. Wilhelm opens his mouth but before he can start, she continues. "It would also take the wind right out of the private media's sails. If you send a brand new Foreign Minister they can engage in all sorts of ridiculous character assassinations without seeming disloyal to the throne itself. If you go, they wouldn't dare."

The Angsiyan purses his lips and covers them with a curled index finger, pondering this advice. Wilhelm sips his bourbon again and Nadia sits there quietly, looking pleased with herself. Casually she reaches for her wine again as Konrad pulls her towards him and gives her a quick kiss on the temple. "You raise an interesting point," he concedes, "but I think that might be overplaying my hand a bit. I want there to be an air of formality, at least at first. We've not had any contact for many years, and I think a personal visit to the DLN might be a little shocking for our populace. I think you're right that the media would have a better reaction to it, but the people might think I'm being too hasty. Besides, why would I fire my Foreign Minister and then go on a state visit myself?"

Wilhelm cracks his neck but says nothing, gesturing to a passing waiter for the check. Dining at public restaurants was a habit of Konrad's, and tended to endear him to both the public and the Serechav chefs, who were increasingly glad that they didn't have to prepare the elaborate court feasts enjoyed by Konrad's father.

"I still think it's worth considering," insists Nadia. "Both have their advantages."

"Indeed."

*********
Broadband Diplomatic Communiqué
Source: Ardan Executive Complex, Serechav
Author: Angsiyan Konrad Althalon IV
Recipient: DLN Foreign Office, Devras

For years now, Arda has been derilect in expressing its gratitude for the DLN's involvement in clearing our eastern reaches from the specter of Morgoth. As much as I'd like to say that infrastructure and economic rebuilding has been the main reason for this, the truth of the matter is I've lately been facing a lot of domestic opposition from my noblemen, who favor an isolationist Arda for many reasons. However, it is my belief that Arda can only truly prosper by re-establishing diplomacy and trade; and that defense against Morgoth's machinations is the interest of all men, not just those over whom I happen to hold dominion.

In the spirit of friendship and mutual interest, I would like to send a delegation to the Dominion to discuss the re-establishment of diplomatic ties. Suffice to say that there are many within my government--myself prime among them--eager to rekindle the diplomatic and personal connections we used to enjoy.

Please advise as to the best terms for such a convocation, and be aware that scheduling concerns are of little consequence to us on account of the Foreign Office's relative disuse! I eagerly await your reply.

Gratefully yours,

Konrad William Althalon IV

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana looked over the rather surprising request from the Ardans with a furrowed brow. Certainly, many things about it made sense. From a strictly business point of view, they could most likely benefit one another rather well. And diplomatically, cement relations with a nation who had been at once a friend and enemy, sometimes simultaneously. Promoting positive relations and trying to direct things to a Dominion-friendly, and from there perhaps spreading to alliance-friendly stance couldn't be amiss, so long as eyes remained open.

She looked up over the top of the paper at Devon, one brow arching slightly. "I suppose I already know exactly what you'd say to reopening relations with Arda."

Treznor arches a brow and smirks. "Those who fail to learn history are doomed to repeat it? When was the last time any venture with Arda ended in any way besides disaster?"

"You realize things are different now, yes? Even if the war ended badly for us overall, can you deny that encouraging a more positive start with this new regime - one separate and done with Morgoth might I add - could be a benefit?" she replied, with no heat in her voice.

Treznor nods slowly. "Things are different, yes. Instead of taking orders from Morgoth directly, orders are coming from Morgoth's trusted lieutenants. You know your history. Whenever Morgoth sees active resistence, he runs and hides. When people forget about him, he comes back and starts over. When he does, where does he start? Arda."

He yawns and stretches. "Do I know that Konrad isn't still taking orders from Morgoth? No. Do I know that there aren't invisible pink unicorns reading over my shoulder? Also no, for much the same reason. You can't quantify the unknowable. So I'll stick to my default position: doing business with Arda has historically been a bad business deal."

"Not always," Nathi said slowly, her brow creasing again. "I know Konrad. At least I did. He and a few of the other warlords weren't really a bad sort, Dev. Not much different from you or I in many ways. I'd like to think we're better off now dealing with them than when that bastard demigod was manipulating things. You know how things were heading towards the end there. The orcs were being hunted and hounded, and it was men who were revolting and taking control. The monsters were no longer accepted. And with Alkanphel's fall ..."

She stopped short there, dropping her gaze slightly and frowning all the more. "In any case, the mystic elements there seem to have been more or less eliminated, one way or another. We would be dealing with more familiar territory, with people who bleed and die just like the rest of us if it came to that, with motivations and desires much more in keeping with what we know. And what we know, we can either deal with, manipulate, or eliminate."

Treznor shrugs. "We helped supply them, and Chris almost quit as Minister of Finance over it. We certainly had to curtail a lot of other projects to help them out. Was the whole civil war a feint? I wouldn't put it past them."

"But Althalon is an Ardan. Reports paint him as a man damnably hard to kill. He took a dozen bullets at point-blank range and barely paused to scratch. He bleeds, yes, but he doesn't die. We also thought we knew Alkanphel, and then he...."

He stops there, aware that he's rapidly approaching dangerous territory. "The point is we don't know what we're dealing with, and we never have. Every time we made assumptions about Ardans or Ardan intentions things went swirly. The odds are against us."

Of course he was right, in far too many respects. And that, as usual, irritated her.

"So, I accept a delegation with all due care and consideration, and this time we make no assumptions other than the usual 'this could end badly'," she snaps, reaching for the wine decanter as opposed to her usual glass of ice water, sitting just to the side, glistening with condensation.

"I want to know what they're up to. What they want. I want to know what's happened in these years we've been out of contact. If nothing more comes of it than a pleasant diplomatic visit, so be it. But I'm going to grant at least that, for now."

Treznor nods politely. "That is your right, Imperatrice. It is still your nation. And, as I recall, I once offered them embassy space in Devonton. But you made the mistake of asking my opinion. Don't get mad at me because you didn't like it."

He pauses and ponders. "Do you suppose they still like antipasta? Maybe you should invite Konrad over for dinner."

The change of direction brings her up a bit short. "What, so you can anoint the offerings with a little something extra? What are you up to, Dev?"

He laughs and winks at her. "Have dinner with him without me, if it makes you feel better. I thought I was being supportive. But if you insist, we could always use the dinner to feel him out for what he's really after. We still make the best team I've ever seen, you and I."

Nathicana smiles wryly. "You know I had to ask. Of course you're welcome to dinner as well. And you're damn right we're a fine team. All the better to shake the heavens while we still can? Good cop, bad cop - I'll even let you use the cuffs after dinner?" she teases.

"But in seriousness, given your intents with Marcus. We would be in a very safe place, where he feels at home and comfortable. Perhaps it might be a good opportunity to get him more involved? If nothing else, observe?"

Treznor pauses, considering. "I honestly hadn't thought of that. I talk about getting him up to speed, but it never occurred to me to have him at this dinner. I like it. The boy could use the experience. Post the invitation to Konrad, and if he accepts we'll have Marcus join us."

She nods, then carefully approaches the next problem. "Then we will have both our proteges attend, should Konrad accept. And we will arrange the seating appropriately so that it is clear, however comfortable the setting, that this is state dinner of sorts."

Treznor opens his mouth, reconsiders, and closes it. There's no way he's going to win this battle, and thus best not to enter the engagement. Instead, this time he nods gently. "As you command, Imperatrice. I'll...do my best to be on my best behavior."

Nathicana reaches across and lays her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I don't want it to be a command, Dev. Consider it a request, if you can. And I know you will do the best you can, if for nothing else, outward appearances. And I will appreciate it."

Treznor smiles at her and squeezes back. "A request, then. I accept. But to be on the safe side, let's stress to our proteges that they are invited to observe, not participate. I don't mind giving them a little experience, but Ardans are tricky even when they seem to behave. Or maybe we should invite them to a different dinner, where the guests aren't so likely to have hidden fangs."

"That is probably for the best - both of them have a tendency to express themselves, as they've been taught, granted. I'd rather we not present a mixed front if we can avoid it. Deferring any loaded questions to whichever of us is appropriate ought to do just fine, leaving them to respond to light polite dinner conversation as needed. We would both be there, and I have no doubt in our ability to guide the conversation if need be, Dev."

She pauses, and studies him thoughtfully for a moment, weighing the possibilities. "I think they're ready. And I know Marcus will respect our wishes, and take your guidance in this. Naiya won't be a problem, and both of them can offer us a fresh view of things after our guests depart. Might give us some insight we may miss given our own biases and prior experiences."

"Agreed, then. I'll leave it in your capable hands, and we'll deal with the fallout later, as needed."

"Lets hope there won't be any of consequence," she replies, lifting her glass in a quiet toast before taking a sip. "I'll get on that reply, and let Dom and Calabrese know we may be expecting company."

"Now then," Treznor says as his expression shifts from serious to lecherous. "I believe you mentioned something about cuffs?"

"That was to be after that dinner, you devil," she says, smiling mischievously. "Unless you had ... other ideas?"

"Last one in bed has to clean up?"

"You're on."

To: Angsiyan Konrad Althalon IV
Fr: Nathicana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion
re: Diplomatic Delegation

It has been many years since we had words, no less, interactions. The oddities of the multiverse and the fractional nature our perspective realities sometimes seem to take can be, I believe, blamed more for any dereliction than perhaps oversights on your government's behalf.

I believe you to be correct in your estimation of broadening your contacts and establishing trade venues abroad. I note my own nation prospered as it has after taking such steps, and no doubt, under a strong and competent leadership such as I believe you offer, Arda may do so as well.

It pleases me greatly to hear you so state your intentions to thwart any plans by Morgoth to reinsert himself, for as you know, it is no secret my own personal feelings, and those of my nation, towards that particular entity. I hope for your success in that area, and look forward to discussing how best we might assist in that area, should events lead us to such agreements. And if not, I wish you well regardless.

Perhaps, if you could see your way clear to joining this delegation, we might discuss further over a dinner at my villa? It would offer a less formal setting to catch up and discuss matters, and perhaps reacquaint yourself with current events in this area of the world. If you prefer, your delegation could meet with my Chancellor, and you and I could meet for a more personable face to face. We could keep it perfectly sterile and in the offices, or if there are not too many included in this delegation, perhaps all could join us here. I am open to several options, depending on your acceptance and preferences.

As timing is not a concern for you, perhaps next week, Friday to be exact?

With Respect,

--Nathicana D'Aquisto

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

The response had been surprisingly quick, and even more surprising, the guests who would be attending. All in all, it worked out rather pleasantly. The leadership of three nations, gathering for a quiet dinner and conversation, in the hopes that all would go smoothly - perhaps in anticipation in some respects of seeing through whatever veneer existed that might blur true intents.

The villa was, as always, well guarded, though security kept themselves as out of sight as possible to give the Imperatrice at least the illusion of privacy. The reasons for the increase from days long past were in no small part visiting this very night, though they themselves had not been directly responsible for the events in question.

Entry and arrival had gone smoothly enough, and the initial introductions and pleasantries easy enough to get through without any difficulties. Present at the dinner, seated around the table in pairs, were Devon Treznor and his son Marcus, Nathicana D'Aquisto and her daughter Naiya, and Konrad Althalon and his wife and Empress, Nadia Roark-Althalon.

Dominic had outdone himself with setting the table, and of course the meal started with a variety of antipasti and the accompanying wine.

"Its been a long time, Konrad," Nathi began, moving past the small talk to get down to business. "Now, how is it you believe we can benefit one another this go-round?"

[Melkor Unchained]

"Well for starters..." Konrad starts, twirling his fork in the pasta, waiting until he's finished his first mouthful before continuing, "I think we benefited from each other plenty last time around. Your support in the east was a major boon for us; even if you didn't see that much action out there, control of the east was crucial for the remainder of the war. It would have taken twice as long without your help."

Konrad pauses to reach for his wine, and Nadia shoots a sidelong glance to Devon but says nothing. "Now that our administration has matured and with rebuilding efforts in the closing stages, I feel that Arda is finally in a position to begin repaying this tremendous debt of gratitude. It unsettles me greatly that the majority of the DLN's experience with my country has been had while we were still in bondage to Morgoth. Given your military and moral assistance in the early stages of the revolt, it seems to me only proper that we should build on that."

"The re-establishment of trade and diplomacy has been a paramount priority of ours," chimes in Nadia. "But politics being what they are in Arda, we've faced some stubborn opposition in this endeavor. Now that this opposition has been overcome, the Dominion seems a logical first choice for us, wouldn't you agree?"

[Treznor]

Treznor glances at his son and grins after sipping his wine. "I'm glad to hear the support you received had an impact. I'm even more pleased to see you've slipped the shackles of bondage to Morgoth. Arda was once a preferred trading partner to our alliance, although I'm personally no longer in a position to negotiate such matters for the NDA. Diplomacy is easy, but what does Arda offer for trade? Are you looking to open your markets, or find a niche for your own goods as well?

"The old saying goes that 'all roads lead to Rome.' I find that as true now as it was when it was first said. Cheers to the Imperatrice for making it happen." He raises his glass to Nathicana and takes a healthy swallow.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana nods in acknowledgement of the assistance rendered. It had been a touchy point with many in the empire at the time it was given, and for some, the cost had been high, considering the Dominion itself had never seemed to directly benefit from it. Many others had seen the need for action, and approved, but even today the debate over it all had never been completely settled in some sectors.

As it was, there were going to be those who opposed any Ardan entanglements on account, so the commentary about resistance was a familiar sentiment, and she nods in understanding to Nadia as she speaks. The first choice comment could be truth, could be flattery - in the end it didn't really matter the reason so long as the situation could be directed to a profitable and relatively safe outcome for the Dominion, and her family.

"It might be at that. We admittedly have some rather lucrative ventures that have been growing for several years now that might be of use, such as the Trade Network Association - which would at the same time, not be a binding nor difficult organization to belong to. We've quite a few members now, with rather far-reaching contacts through it, and very little strictures for those involved. I believe it offers the most freedom and simplified access to trade and new markets of any organization of its kind out there," Nathicana said, replying to Nadia in particular.

She smiles and lowers her eyes demurely for a moment at Devon's compliments and toast, raising her glass in response and taking a sip, as does Naiya at her side, though the girl remains rather quiet throughout, taking her time studying their guests.

"The Emperor is too kind," Nathi murmurs, "And I thank you for your kind words also, Konrad. It was the right thing to do at the time, assisting as we did, and given the outcome, I would do so again. Devon brings up a good point though - it would be helpful to know what your nation has to offer so that we might better assess the situation overall, and perhaps offer some suggestions, if not immediate market openings."

[Sentient Peoples]

In rerum natura
C-space, Federation Ansible Tactical Network (TacNet)

The computer mind of satellite Hen-Angainor W213 was hardly intelligent. And officially, it belonged to the Federal Weather Service, though the necessity of a weather satellite having, among other, more esoteric sensors, holoimagers capable of one hundred pixels to a meter resolution against objects on the ground was a potential topic of some debate. Admittedly, the FWS only owned a single constellation of two hundred and fifty such satellites, and did, more or less, use them to watch weather patterns world wide.

The fact that, organizationally, the Federal Weather Service fell under the purview of the Federation’s Intelligence Directorate, which owned a further three such constellations of satellites (M, C, and J constellations, which all happened to be labeled as belonging to the FWS, whatever the budget said) in addition to the constellation which was deployed from each of the four massive, Military Directorate-owned Anglachel-class spacestations in Earth orbit, gave more significant reasoning behind more sensors just simple holocameras and look down radar and infrared.

As it was HA-W213 was spinning through space over Arda, dutifully recording everything it saw in exquisite detail in a variety of spectrums, both visible and otherwise, when a number of craft departed the continent. In the last few years, this had been rare enough to add an additional parameter to the idiot savants which ran the satellites, and a flag was raised into TacNet.

The flag drew the attention of Elminster, the EI who’s job it was to monitor the take from the 250 satellites of W constellation and allocated resources to watch interesting things. He was also responsible for determining global weather patterns and the resultant natural effects thereof and forwarding that information to the appropriate people. Consulting the current positions of his satellites at the same time he backtracked the flight into Arda through the recorded data of three other satellites in addition to HA-W213, Elminster determined that he had five satellites that might potentially be able to observe later portions of the flight profile of the departing craft, but that he would need assistance from Gandalf’s J constellation and Belgarath’s M constellation to actively and continuously track the craft. Zeddicus’ C constellation would only come in to play later on. Gently whispered electronic conversations took place in time immeasurable to organic beings and by the time the lead craft had moved nine millimeters along its course, nineteen satellites had dedicated a portion of their attention to the departure.

An escorted craft departing from the Ardan capital and actually leaving the country would be of great interest to Cortana when they actually had something to report.

OOC: Don’t mind me. Just relearning to tag, given that the ‘bookmark’ function doesn’t work. Grr.

[Melkor Unchained]

Konrad takes a healthy gulp of wine and nods. "Of course. I don't have the necessary documentation with me presently, but I do know that the rebuilding process is eating up a huge amount of lumber, steel, copper--the things you might intuitively expect such an expansive rebuilding to require. We have, however, kick-started a number of industrial ventures; we have a glut of mineral and synthetic textiles and precision machinery."

"Pretty much anything in the Industrial Engineering sector, really," adds Nadia. "Truth be told, we overestimated the materials required to rebuild Ardan industry and agriculture. Pretty much anything from textiles to tractors to machine parts is fair game for us to export en masse."

"But we're staying out of the arms trade entirely," notes Konrad. "For both practical and strategic reasons, if it shoots, we've no intention of exporting it." He pauses for a moment and Nadia shoots her husband a quick glance. "But I'm not sure we're ready to commit to any particular trade organization until we've spoken with all of its participants." Konrad takes another gulp of wine. "Indeed, the only reason we've come here is due to our antecedent relations."

"Quite," concurs Nadia abruptly. "Indeed, we feel that the 'simplest' relations are those kept to the parties that you know best. It would be irresponsible for us to commit to any such arrangement otherwise." She spreads her hands. "Not that we can rule it out off the bat-- a trade network is quite the lucrative proposition. But how large is it? Who is in it, and how long has it been around?"

[Treznor]

Treznor chews his antipasta slowly.

LOS Communications - Nathicana {
>> Projections on Jewel have them behind schedule. Taming the wildnerness turned out to be more troublesome than on Earth. That extra material could help bring those projections back on track, but there's no way I'm cutting you out of this deal. I like my head where it is, thankyouverymuch. Both of them.
}

Then he swallows.

"I'm sure I can find at least a few markets where industrial goods like that will be welcome, and if I can then the Dominion should have no trouble at all. But frankly, I think you've made a wise choice by starting with the Dominion. No one has a better reputation for fair trade than Nath, so if she endorses your goods then folks are going to pay attention. Seeding the Dominion market will put your foot in the door for larger networks, and you can make deals with independent entities after they've had the chance to see what you offer. I think this could work very nicely.

"As for the trade network, that one is entirely Nath's creation from the start. I'll let her explain it." He sips his wine again.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

LOS Communications - Devon {
>> You've gotten rather wise in your old age. We could admittedly use some raw materials up on Nuova Toscana. We're making progress there, but its still a rather miserable spot outside the arcologies.<<
}

Nathicana watches the Ardans quietly while Devon speaks, most especially Nadia, whom she knows the least - and who thus far seems to have the head for the trade end of things.

"I agree that we could most likely find markets for mush of what you're offering - expansion seems to be the natural course of things, and we can always find a need to fill, for the right price. Dev is right - we do have a rather broad reach so far as trade and commerce goes, with the possibility of introducing your companies to many of those markets if you find they suit you."

She reaches into a pocket and takes out a small data card, sliding it across the table towards Nadia. "I've taken the liberty of putting together some information on opportunities you might be interested in, including the Trade Network. We've found that it has been a useful tool that can operate outside the usual strictures of diplomatic red tape and nation-wide transactions. Individual companies as well as nations at large are invited to participate. There are very few strictures, and entities are free to leave at any time without the expectation of any sort of negative impact, save for the loss of services that come with it."

"Think of it as a digital catalogue, or job board of sorts that one can peruse to get what they like, and not have to bother with the rest, usually at a discount not offered the general public, and with streamlined transactions. You needn't recognize all of the participants, nor interact with all, there are no punitive actions that result from a lack of interaction."

"It is not affected by alliance standings, nor does it insist on being the only avenue for trade within its participants. Monetary exchange, mediation services, shipping and transport, and ease of negotiation are but a few of the services offered within it. You'll find Triumvirate and NDA nations listed, as well as some you may find surprising, all things considered. Sentient Peoples, The Freethinkers, Midlonia, Vrak, Pantocratoria, Largent, even Sketch to name a few. You'll find the full list of signatories - all public knowledge - in the data there," she finished smoothly.

"Thus stated, we are still growing and looking for more members, and extrasolar opportunities. The possibilities are nigh endless."

Throughout, Naiya quietly observes the goings on, the reactions of those around the table, the nuances of the conversation. Thus far, she failed to see what inherent danger existed all things considered. Nadia seemed to be a shrewd sort, yes. And if she didn't miss her first impression, rather protective of Konrad as odd as that might seem, from what she'd heard of the man. He himself seemed rather nice, and he obviously trusted his wife's opinion and input. Perhaps there was something she was missing.

She continued to work on her food quietly, delicately sampling a bit of this and that, for now not daring to do more than exchange looks with her brother, trying to guage his first impressions of their guests.

[Melkor Unchained]

Nadia pushes her eyebrows together, noticing something about the Dread Lady--she seems to be processing new information; as if in a conversation with someone else at the same time. The Empress leans over and whispers something in Konrad's ear, who nods in turn as he sets down his glass.

"Arda's economic system is, I believe, unique in world politics," begins the Angsiyan. "We don't tax our citizens for the most part; my government instead earns the majority of its cash by competing alongside the private sector in everything from bedroom slippers to automobiles to pizza delivery. My companies are expected to remain solvent; if they go under, I have them dismantled and spread their remaining capital amongst my other production or service agencies." He pauses to gobble down some more antipasta. "As such, any agreement I'd reach with your Trade Network would be on behalf of Arda's state-owned industries. Whether our private sector follows us or not is up to them: I could compel them, of course, but I prefer to maintain more free-market policies. However, I suspect that an international trade agreement of this magnitude would give us a marketplace advantage, so I would be very surprised if more than a few didn't follow us into a similar agreement."

"These policies are designed to encourage economic growth during the rebuilding process," notes Konrad. "When I am satisfied with the state of Arda's economic infrastructure, this may change. This system, as you might imagine, doesn't bring in the same kind of cash that regular taxation might, but it helps out the rank and file a lot and it has promoted explosive economic growth."

The Empress examines the data card for a moment before pocketing it. "Indeed. Additionally, we're planning on being as lax as possible in the tariff department. We'll need to crunch some numbers of course, but the general sentiment at the Serechav is that we don't want to charge them at all to either of your nations on account of your assistance against Morgoth. We haven't decided on tariff policy for anyone else; we'll have to cross that bridge as we get to it, more than likely."

"I have to admit, I'm pleasantly surprised by this," she continues with a smile. As you can imagine we're not exactly up-to-date in world politics, and accordingly we had no idea such that this Trade Network even existed. We came here hoping to broker a trade deal with two nations, and now it seems our options have multiplied. Undoubtedly our ministers and private business owners will want to hammer out some additional details, but I think I speak for both of us when I say this is quite an exciting proposition."