Boulanger International Airport, Mèronie
Friday 17th January, 2020
Men with guns had been positioned on either side of the border. Men with microphones issued ultimatums to each other. Consequently, men on each side of emergency telephones spoke to each other, and luckily for the world, they could agree to a time and place. Mèronie was taking a significant gamble, stepping up to the plate and staring down a potential war in Lira, but the Federal Republic had a very particular gambler calling the shots.
Maximilien Sardou, the First Deputy, waited at the side of the carpet that had been impeccably prepared for the landing of Prime Minister Bonadeo. He stood with perfect posture, hands behind his back, watching the approaching plane carefully. The ceremonial guard on either side were performing a practice drill in preparation, and the band was warming up. Flags, Produese and Mèron, were being unfurled. When the Prime Minister arrived, all would be ready for a full state welcome, and with a day's warning. Everything had been moving so fast over the past few weeks that it was hard for anyone to keep up. Sardou had to keep swimming or he'd get swept away, but it was impossible to know if he was going in the right direction before he arrived.
The organization of this meeting had been haphazard and chaotic, but the important thing is that it happened. That this was all happening at all was the one thing to clutch on to, because it meant that ultimately, no one yet preferred war to the alternative.
Sardou's mind was silent. This wasn't the meeting that people were more anxious about, though certainly Mèronie had some goals they hoped to pressure onto Produzland. For one, it was indisputable that self-determination should be respected. Sardou had weighed a number of options to force the hand of the government of Produzland, most substantially the fact that they could withdraw from their position of supporting Produzland against the ultimatums of Parthonopian King Carlo. Such a measure was powerful, but Sardou would have to use it surgically. Doing so without care could give very unfortunate boldness to Carlo, for example. Ideally, he could get Bonadeo on side quickly, and work from there to pressure Parthonopia into an amicable agreement.
Suddenly, his internal silence was interrupted. "Faction Radicale claim you've doomed the nation a few times a week, Maximilien, but this time you might have really done it." Sardou recognized the exhausted voice of Premier Tremblay, and turned to greet him as he stalked up the red carpet. They shook hands promptly, and Tremblay took his place in the line. "It's good to see you arrived, Premier." Tremblay scoffed. "Yes, I know I'm late. Such things happen."
There was a moment of silence as the Produese plane came in to land. "I'm serious, Max. If you start a war the country is justifiably unlikely to forgive you." Sardou kept his eyes trained on the door of the plane as he replied. "If I start a war during your term, statistically you'll be reelected." Tremblay sighed, and shuffled around on his feet. "If I have to serve another term because of you, I won't forgive you either." Sardou smiled, slightly.
The plane stopped at the stairwell before them, and the door opened. Sardou's autopilot engaged. Step forward. Smile. Firm handshake, warm greeting in appropriate language. Diplomacy began.