Baleucit, Nau Mu'uro, United Islands
The waters of the Southern Seas shimmered, stretching well beyond the horizon to parts unknown. A deep blue so heavy that it drew the eye near to the endless questions it so selfishly hid away. Along the white, sun-baked sands were families enjoying a moment of serenity, laughter, and the quiet peace that seemed so ever present to be taken for granted. Gulls crossed the sky, flying as they did in the shape of a V, undoubtedly on the watch for any unfortunate soul with fries or ice cream, anything they could get their hands on truly. This peace, this quiet, could not hold for long.
The beachgoers quickly moved to secure their belongings as several military helicopters came over the sea bearing the unmistakable colors of the United Islands. They flew inland and just as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished from sight over the terrain, though the thunderous roar of their engines took its time to depart long after they had gone.
"It has been a long time," Artuo said through the helicopter's intercom as Renée, the prime minister, stared out the window. Her gaze refused to dull away, being sharpened by the grindstone of thought that was making calculation after calculation in her mind.
''Ever wonder why they call it Baleucit?'' she finally said, her voice cracking through the headset's static.
The question disarmed Artuo, who raised a brow, ''You'll forgive me, Madame Prime Minister. I fear that I am not familiar with the specific history of the Treándres isles."
She looked at him, "No points for you, Artuo. It means Blue-city supposedly.''
Artuo sounded the word out in his head, seeing where maybe that inference could come from. ''Baleu also means whale in our language, though,'' he said, almost unsure of himself now. Here they were en route for the beginning of an important international meeting and they were talking about colors and whales and why people can't name things in more simple ways.
Renée smiled, ''And yet the city isn't blue, but it has a lot of whales, so you tell me.''
Artuo blinked. ''Is this one of those things that you do, where you come out of nowhere only to sucker punch me with a life lesson?''
She grinned, ''Look at you, we'll make you a fine Secretary of State yet, Artuo. But yes — I am entrusting you with my utmost respect to handle these negotiations between the Ordenites and the Holy Marsh and maybe bring them down to a simmer so the West can have a break. Of course, such a thing requires a lot of attention to detail, I trust you have learned about both nations — and yet, you failed to study the history of where we'd go. You must stay on your feet, Artuo, or they will eat you alive."
Artuo sighed, ''I see — understood, Madame Prime Minister.''
Palace of Waka'hae-ta, Nau Mu'uro, United Islands
As the helicopters sat themselves down on the pads, ground-crews came to secure and help with any luggage as Renée and Artuo departed. Other staff from the island's state government were there and waiting to receive them. Governor Malō Ttowei being among them.
''Ah! Bèvenit, bèvenit! Tala-talay-tala!,'' he bellowed out in greeting, giving Renée a big hug.
''Óla, Uncle Malō, it's so good to see you!'' she replied. Artuo stood back, a gentle smile on his face as the staff made quick work of their things. "Artuo, this is my uncle, Malō Ttowei, the governor of Nau Mu'uro.''
'''A mi me plais,'' Artuo nodded.
''I love what you've done with the place,'' Renée said, looking up at the palace. The structure had been restored by the Mu'uroans thanks to the state's Cultural Revitalization Project. The palace was once the seat of the Wannake, Waka'hae-ta of the Kaqahári tribes in the Treándres, and the ancestors to Renée herself. The totems had been restored and the large, sloping roof was painstakingly repaired. Large glass windows rose above the two massive doors, facing west to allow the setting sun to illuminate the little seashells and peals infused in the glass. The Kaqahári were the last to sign the Wuomui Accords with the Calandrians, they were seen as stubborn even by the other tribes, but for Renée, she always felt they were more courageous to stand by what they felt was right.
As they entered the main hall, a table had been set with its light palm-wood color and plenty of seating for the delegations. It would be a long round of talks, and though Renée could not stay for them, she had every bit of trust in Artuo. Maybe peace would still be possible, maybe.
