Charles VII International Airport
ATC Tower
A Few Moments Later
The Baron stood up from his chair, marching over to the edge of a window of the control tower overlooking the scene of the standoff below in the distance; gazing upon sight of security cordons of round roadblocks that looked as if they laid a siege on the plane and the convoy of the PPC Diplomatic Mission for their bandit antics of thievery. The roadblocks were made up of Militsiya police cruisers jointly manned by now-heavily armed men of the Law and the National Guard. In addition to that, several sniper teams were placed on the roof of hangars that were closest to the plane and the convoy, with the sights of their precision rifles aimed at the tires of the Prussian Polish vehicles and the Naval Infantrymen who stood on guard on the outside, around the Globemaster. Their training and the tension in the air, instinctively triggered them to assume a combat stance, their weapon raised and ready for combat.
How tragic of them. They are going to perish in a violent death over something so petty as it is not even considered human.
The Baron paced several times with his hands clasped behind his waist, his gaze still fixed on the plane as he noticed a single clear silhouette of what looked like to be one of the Lauzanneans made the long trek towards the surrounded plane across what was an open concrete expanse that was the airport’s runway.
‘’I’ve notified the guys on the roadblock to let him pass. Don’t worry they are not going to pepper him with bullets.’’ Oleg suddenly piped up, almost like he was expecting to be asked the same question by the Baron in the next moments.
Lukov remained silent, his gaze unbroken off the cordon and that speck in the distance who was most likely one of the observers which had turned up at this sensitive state of affairs which had been hanging by a thread from escalating into a shootout.
‘’It is so unfortunate it is not the case.’’ The Baron opined in a low voice. ‘’I was given little warning of the visit of these ‘’observers’’, other than a phone call by Sergei when they were already giving a press conference to foreign media at the steps of the terminal.’’
‘’Should we revoke their press credentials and have them packing?’’
‘’No, not yet anyway. They might prove to be of some use after all.’’
At that moment, the doors of the elevator slid open, to reveal Svetoslav, one of his bodyguards having returned from the quest that the Baron had tasked him with, carrying two plus-size carbon cups filled with tea and coffee each that had been procured from a flashy Caffe, and a can of Monster in the other - his MP5 having been swung over his shoulder.
‘’Wu-Wha-, where did those guys go,’’ Svetoslav asked as he came across a room whose number of occupants had shrunk. Flabbergasted at the situation, he sighed in disappointment as he realized his quest had been for naught.
‘’They shall return eventually,’’ Lukov answered, before spurning around to face Svetoslav.
''Now, where is my monster?'' The Baron queried to his bodyguard with forthright bluntness.
''Right here, sir. Unfortunately, there weren't any green ones, so I had to pick one from the blue ones.'' Confidently retorted Svetoslav, motioning the can of monster he carried in his can.
Marching over to Svetoslav, Lukov snapped the Monster aluminum can out of the Legionnaire's hand before promptly proceeding to drink half of its contents in one swift gulp.
''Taste's like piss. But it will do.''
The Aristocrat continued ''We’ll head back to the main terminal and wait for our esteemed guests from Lauzanne there. It was a bad idea to have had them received here in the ATC tower, next time we might as well invite the Polish here too, just so that we are inclusive…hell, it was bad enough that these people were allowed into the country, to begin with.’’ Commented the Baron before pausing,’’ just -- what was Sergei even thinking when he came to this idea that having these people running around would be a good idea, to begin with -- opening diplomatic ties? I very much doubt that they have anything to do with diplomatic work, to begin with.’’
Lukov looked Svetoslav in the eye before turning his sight on the Constable.’’ I suspect a more hidden, masked ulterior motive behind all of this. I must add that I am very much skeptical of that Natliya-person advertisement that they were merely observers. Same for her colleague -- I know the look of a trained killer when I see one *chuckles* some neutral observers these people are. They didn’t look to be that much neutral when they were so doggedly debating me.’’
‘’Beats me, maybe you should ask him that question yourself.’’ Svetoslav chimed in.
‘’Perhaps you are in the right Svetoslav - Anyways - we should get going, I’d prefer if we wait for our distinguished guests over at the main terminal instead of having to disturb our colleagues on duty.’’ Lukov said, turning to take a glance of Oleg,’’ As for you Mr. Oleg; I hope that you hold the line for us. Let me remind you that the reason for this confrontation is not some coveted piece of property Constable -- the Kingdom’s reputation is at stake in this as well and it will lose more than a mere slave or nominal reputation for respecting international diplomatic norm. Because, If that little girl is to be allowed to leave; The details of our LPU system that are going to be laid bare for all the world and glamour of TV cameras and pundits, will force Cassadia to grapple with more than just some mere violation of the Vienna Convention.’’
Oleg listened intently, taking in every word the Baron said and nodding as he watched the Baron Lukov and his bodyguard withdrew to the elevator - though not before the man of modest stature prevented the doors from closing and directing another remark at the senior police officer.
‘’I will summon Lesnitsky from Topolovgorod to oversee security efforts for the standoff. He’ll be filling in for my unofficial position as an adviser once I see it is pertinent to step away from all of this for the rest of the day.’’
The Constable felt his veins freeze like ice, shrinking at the mere mention of that name. He heard stories of the man that the Baron was referring to -- most not particularly suitable for people of a weak stomach, to speak nothing of his physical appearance. It was only rational that such man would fit into the mold as the most infamous Tribune of the Central Command Council, the organization's most powerful and important decision-making body, second only to the leader, the Legatus Augusti of the Legion. A position that has only been succeeded for three generations to up-and-coming patriarchs of the Lukov Family. A position passed down from father to son; Beginning with the one who started it all; Starting with Hristo Lukov to his son, Maidanov, whose title was then bestowed to Lukov upon his death in what was a fiery, violent demise inside of burning scrap, caused by a hidden bomb on board that was quickly blamed on sleeper agents within the organization.
In hushed tones, some alleged that it was Lukov who was the one to have been the sole perpetrator behind the violent plot. Whispers of Lukov's virulent animosity toward his father from the hushed gossip in social functions behind the walls of many a noble estate or the Imperial Court to the chat forums of the Cassadian intranet trickled down into threads or chat room that discussed the topic found themselves swiftly scrubbed off the digital realm.
Being the old ''boomer'' type that Oleg was; he was was not the kind of man who spent a lot of time on the intranet, to read through these conversations. Word of this did however come past his ear when he had heard his son mention it on several occasions. At first, he found it to be some sort of juvenile banter that many youths usually had when talking about the aristocracy. In his view, it was libelous, but the methods of the Legion, which in large part emulated Lukov's own behavior and modus operandi led him to believe from time to time, that there possibly was a grain of truth to that.
‘’So long, Mr. Oleg.’’ Lukov bid a farewell to the Constable as the doors of the elevator shut.
