Orthuria Senone Conference [GO Only, Closed, IC]

[Meronnia]

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.

[Produzir]

Bonadeo after a short flight from Burlon had arrived in Senone. He stood firm and tall awaiting to meet the First Deputy Sardou, a desire of his since Bonadeo had been elected in August of 2018. He stepped out of the plane admiring the first view he had of Meronnia, and he slowly panned down to find a red carpet and an entourage of Meronnian officials and the First Deputy Sardou. He began to trot down the steps of the jet to step foot on the runway, where he was first greeted by an outreached hand by the First Deputy, Bonadeo proudly took Sardou's hand and began. He had been informed earlier by a minister Sardou could speak Produese, Bonadeo was pleased, he could speak Mèronais fluently, but of course it felt more natural to speak in his native tongue.

"Good Afternoon First Deputy", spoke the Prime Minister.

"Prime Minister Bonadeo, welcome to Mèronie. I trust you had a good flight?"

"Quite well, filled with anticipation, and for a good reason. I've been hoping for this meeting a long time."

"You're not alone. We've been quite eager to host you, Prime Minister, particularly considering recent events."

"Absolutely, current events continuously flood my office nowadays and even my own household. My daughter was begging me not to take the plane out of fear of being shot down."

"It is my guarantee then, that you will get back to her safely. Please, allow me to introduce the representatives of our state."

"It is an honour."

[Meronnia]

The First Deputy cleared his throat.

"Secretary Marais, of the Economics Bureau." Nods, handshakes, move along.

"Secretary Lafaille, of the Solidarity Bureau." Nods, handshakes, move along.

"Secretary Jacquet, Social Bureau." Again.

"Secretary Beaudouin, Foreign Bureau." Beaudouin managed a polite greeting in Produese, to mix things up.

"Lastly our Premier, Mr. Tremblay." The Premier was a figurehead, more-so than ever with Sardou as First Deputy, but ultimately the rubber stamp had to be there to make things official and pretty.

After a satisfactory amount of shaking hands and speaking bad Produese had occurred, it was time to move on. The Prime Minister was whisked away, alongside the First Deputy, to a beautiful state car (of Produese build), and they were then ferried out from the airport.

Sardou was polite and welcoming during the car ride, but gave away comparatively little for the amount he spoke. He did mention, however, that he had had a word with some personal friends in the Senone Symphony Orchestra, who happened to be putting on a performance that night in the Soleil d'Or Theater. The trip was short, as intended, to leave little dead space in the evening.

On arrival, the First Deputy and Prime Minister were let out of the car by security, and escorted into a beautiful eighteenth century hall painted in striking yellow, one of the few major buildings to survive the chaos of that time period in Senone. Down the hall and up two flights of stairs, the gentlemen had a short meeting with the Conductor, Lucas Levasseur, before continuing into a private booth overseeing the seats below, and the nearly prepared Orchestra.

The first song the Orchestra played was a beautiful rendition of the Produese National Anthem, which Sardou enjoyed in silence. After its completion, as the Orchestra started flipping pages to the next song, he turned to Bonadeo. "I had hoped, Prime Minister, that we might come to some arrangements before the Conference itself, so that we can present a strong front." He then added, almost an afterthought, "Perhaps a Wine while we discuss?"

[Produzir]

"I'd like that a lot First Deputy, I honestly prefer Meronnian wine as opposed to Produese."

Sardou laughed lightly and nodded approvingly. “You have good taste then.” He turned away for a moment, but then considered and looked back. “White or Red? Or perhaps you’d partake in my preference, a good Rosé?”

"I'm quite a fan of red wine," Bonadeo smirked. He looked around the room and said with a light chuckle, "in fact, it feels as if a whole section of my wine cellar in Araújo is dedicated to it."

Sardou raised his hands for a moment and sighed sarcastically. “A Red, then.” He exchanged a word with the suited man at the corner of the booth, and within moments two wine glasses were produced, along with a fine Cabernet Franc from the Prudencia Orchards. Sardou poured the wine, and offered a glass to the Prime Minister.

After pouring his own and taking a sip, Sardou turned to Bonadeo. “To business, then?”

Bonadeo's eyes mid-drink phased over to Sardou. "That'd be ideal, it's been the main talk behind closed doors in Sanguinario Palace." Bonadeo placed his glass on the counter before proceeding. "I suppose we should start somewhere right, what do we want out of the conference. My government has a plan, and ideas for negotiations at hand."

“Well”, Sardou matched Bonadeo by setting down his glass. “It is my government’s position that the first order of business is to avoid war, and secondarily to that; to strengthen principles of liberty and democracy. To that point, Prime Minister-” Sardou watched Bonadeo piercingly “- our ideal outcome includes self-determination referenda for Cabeca.”

He cleared his throat, and waved his hand airily, dispelling the tension of his words. “We both know the majority, or plurality at least, will vote against independence, and we can’t well present the Great Wall of Liberty to King Carlo when there are such issues undermining us. I will be direct with you, that our direct help in this instance is conditional on doing so.”

Sardou reached for his glass and took a sip, before adding, “Of course, we can keep such agreements between ourselves until we agree to it as the major concession to Carlo during the conference.”

Bonadeo gave a sigh and looked downwards, "I knew the issue would crop up sometime and I'd have to put my foot down," Bonadeo took a large sip from his glass and stood up straight. "My country can't afford to lose Cabeca, it's one of the most economically developed regions of my country, luckily I have a unionist as governor in the state. Perhaps these are my own insecurities, but what if they vote yes? Despite it being well off, it wouldn't stand a chance against Carlo's regime. What if Cabeca takes Cabeca Alba? Then we both lose."

Bonadeo closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair as he faced the other side of the counter. "Logic and statistics say they'll vote in favour of union. I'm worried however."

After a long pause and a scoff, "Being worried about this makes me look like a spineless leader anyways".

Sardou had sat quietly and observed the internal crisis within the Prime Minister. He certainly hoped a stronger front would be presented at the conference, but such vulnerability had uses as well. After giving Bonadeo a moment, he grabbed his shoulder and smiled. “My friend, you care for your people, that is only the sign of a good leader.” He patted the man again and looked down to the Orchestra below.

“To be clear, Prime Minister, we have no intention of seeing Cabeca leave Produzland. However, the right to have a vote must be respected. You are concerned, reasonably so.” Sardou paused for a moment, bobbing his head. “If I were to guess, you fear a boycott, or some sort of fear campaign, will keep enough Leavers at home to swing the vote?”

He sniffed and nodded. “You know, I’ve found I can almost always get what I want out of the voters by controlling the rules of the vote itself.” He then again waved his hand loosely. “Give them a vote, with a mandatory referendum quorum, let us say two thirds of eligible voters. No boycott, the vote is to stay. Boycotts, and the result is invalid.”

Bonadeo turned his head with a look of curiosity. "Certainly an interesting concept, it's hard to succeed in politics at all, but yes I can certainly consider holding an approved referendum in Cabeca. The situation in Subparrania however is different, and its stance in geopolitics concerns me. It's been Produese territory for 120 years, yet there's still a sizable Parthonopian population in the region, and it's nationalism has only increased alongside Cabeca with Parthonopia's unification over the last decade."

Sardou smiled and took a drink from his glass, savoring a brief moment to think. “I am glad we could come to an agreement on that matter, Mister Prime Minister. As for the matter of Subparrania we have no such requirements. The concessions we will slowly, painfully surrender to King Carlo are what we agree on here tonight. An extradition of arrested Parthonopian protesters as an opener, and finally sinking to agreeing to Cabeca to seal the deal.”

Glad to have made some progress, Sardou then turned to Bonadeo. “Perhaps then, we should move on to the point you had raised earlier. What your government hopes to see out of this conference, and so forth.”

Bonadeo took a large inhale, also happy to have made some pre-discussion before the meeting. "I'm glad you asked, our main goal mirrors yours as you said earlier. Avoid war. We'd also like to negotiate an exchange, the Produese ambassador, who we originally let slide to avoid pushing tensions further, for the release of the Parthonopian nationals taking part in the rally at San Aurelio. And one last thing, we'd like to obtain the black box of the AirProduzland flight that tragically went down less than a few weeks ago." Following an array of hand motions while speaking, Bonadeo exhaled out of relief. "I believe our desires, largely shared by your country are negotiable".

Sardou nodded slowly. Nothing outrageous. It might even be possible. “All quite agreeable, we will be behind you in full on these requests. A formal treaty of non-aggression, the return of the Produese Ambassador, and some answers for the dead. In exchange, the Parthonopian nationals and a referendum in Cabeca.” Sardou nodded again. “Yes, quite agreeable indeed.”

He refilled his glass from the bottle between them, and did the same for Bonadeo. “A toast to peace, Prime Minister?”

Bonadeo touched his glass to Sardou's. "To peace".

[Meronnia]

Back at Boulanger Airport

First Deputy Sardou sighed internally as he waited. His conversation with the Produese Prime Minister had been productive, certainly, but nothing was secured until the Parthonopians were on board as well. He had heard many things about King Carlo I, and few of them were positive. Certainly, he would have to be on point tonight.

Prime Minister Bonadeo had been driven from the Theater to the Palais Gouvernant, where the Premier was hosting him before the arrival of King Carlo for dinner and the conference. Sardou, meanwhile, had returned to the airport, because it wasn't long now before the Orthurian strongman arrived to try to bully new people into submission. In fact, that was the aircraft coming in for a landing now.

Sardou instinctively cycled through the greeting procedures in his mind, and prepared his characteristic smile. As the plane lined up with the prepared, carpeted staircase, Sardou again switched into the diplomat he'd been many times before. A handshake (no bow), and a warm greeting in the Parthonopian language (before having a translator step in to account for Sardou's Parthonopian in the long run, conversational at best.)

[Parthonopia]

Boulanger International Airport
17th of January, 2020

Carlo dell'Ancona had come a long way over the course of the past decade. He had entered the 2010's as a Duke of a coastal principality; handling the precarious circumstances of a surging population and a changing political climate. Now, within the first month of a brand new decade, he found himself on a jet, in a foreign country, to negotiate as the King of Parthonopia. The contrast of his position in life from then to now was dramatic. Carlo pondered this briefly as he sat in a black leather seat, looking out through one of the small, porthole windows on the side of the aircraft. The jet had come to a full stop moments before and he took note, while he waited, of the display laid out on the runway for his arrival.

It had been a short flight to Senone, arriving there almost as hastily as the conference they were attending was put together. When King Carlo had issued an ultimatum to the Produese government on Monday evening, by Thursday afternoon the Meron government had spearheaded the plan and outline of this conference. He had expected a reaction when he prodded his Orthurian neighbor with the fiery demands. He was surprised however, albeit pleasantly, by the swift and stern reactions from elsewhere in Lira.

He turned his head from the window and to the front of the cabin of the plane. He had just watched as the decoratively carpeted stair ramp was wheeled to the door, recognizing that it was time to get the show started. This was confirmed when he saw the pilot standing at attention by the door, along with one of his guards, and the cute stewardess who had made sure that his glass of wine was never empty for the duration of the flight.

Carlo snuffed out the cigar he had been puffing on in an ashtray on the table in front him. He clapped his hands before he stood up and looked over to his right, where his chief aide and a translator sat, having remained silent since they arrived at the airport. He grinned as he turned towards the door and grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket to give them a tug forward.

This was his first diplomatic mission abroad since unification, but by no means was it his first conference of this nature or level of importance. In the heat of the previous summer, while Legionaries and Wintonian proxy troops battled in Marcomeria, Carlo was being legitimized in Sapri by another major Liran head of state. In the process of that negotiation, between himself and Populos Michelle Tourne, Carlo arguably gained several victories. While humbled by not meeting nearly the full scope of his demands, in the end he was more empowered than ever by the recognition of legitimacy that these conferences were for him.

Carlo walked to the exit, pinching the stewardess’s rear as he passed, and came out into day light. He lingered briefly on the top landing of the staircase. Placing his hands on his hips he looked down at his audience. He spotted the First Deputy Sardou standing there at the end of the rolled out red carpet. Making his way down the stairs methodically, he sauntered down the aisle, Meron soldiers lining both sides, approaching Sardou with a smug grin. His translator followed shortly behind him, the rest of his staff lingering in the jet to be taxied over to the location of the summit after Carlo and Sardou.

King Carlo stood before the Meron First Deputy and was tickled by the man’s use of the Parthonopian language to address him. He eyed him from top to bottom before saying a word. He had never met the man before in his life but had seen plenty of pictures enough to recognize him. There Carlo was surprised to see that Sardou looked even more weaselly in the flesh than in photographs.

“Bonjour et merci! C’est un plaisr de vous rencontrer, monsieur.”

Sardou presented a decent fake smile for Carlo’s Meronais and the necessary niceties and small talk commenced. The two men briefly interacted, Carlo presenting a jovial expression as he did so. He was then whisked down a line of faces of names he would not remember, most of whom insisted on butchering his language. Handshakes were shared and greetings exchanged, the patience for this fluff wearing out quickly.

Carlo was able to endure the rest of the welcoming committee and relieved when he and Sardou finally entered the vehicle that was to transport them to the next stage. He hoped it would be a short drive to where ever they were going, so as to limit the amount of time he would be forced to chat with this notoriously sneaky dealer more than was necessary.

[Meronnia]

Sardou smiled politely to King Carlo as they entered the car. They chatted a little, but Carlo didn't seem particularly interested in small talk, and ever the diplomat Sardou wound it down. He did offer the King a glass of wine for the drive, however.

On arrival to the Palais Gouvernant, the First Deputy and the King were led into the magnificent building that existed specifically for this sort of use. Down the Hall of Works, where some of the most prestigious paintings in the country were displayed, up a grand staircase, and so on.

Eventually, the pair arrived at the Grand Dining Hall, a large room with classical decor, prominently hosting a massive mahogany table already set for an impressive-looking feast. The Premier, the Produese Prime Minister, and several other government representatives and translators, were already seated. "My mother always said never to argue on an empty stomach!" Sardou laughed and indicated the King to his seat, before taking his own. Before them were a plethora of meal options appropriate to Meron high society, as well as several traditional Produese and Parthonopian options.

[Parthonopia]

Palais Gouvernant

Carlo had mustered enough patience to survive the tedious drive from Boulanger Airport to the location of the conference. The First Deputy Sardou had attempted to engage in some small talk along the way but had quickly caught onto Carlo's personal sentiment. The Parthonopian King did, however, swallow some of his pride and partook in a glass of some bitter Meronian wine along the way. It was not long before they were within the halls of the famous government building and meeting place. He admired the classical architecture as he followed Sardou through the Hall of Works. The collection of art work that lined the decorative corridor had caught his eye, specifically one work from the 14th Century, at the dawn of the Renaissance, by the Parthonopian artist Sossanetto. A glorious depiction of rays of light reaching down from the heavens to bless Lothair the Great as he approached the peninsular shores.

They entered the dining hall for the pre-conference brunch and niceties. Sardou and Carlo took their seats in front of the prepared feast of a spread of Parthonopian, Porduzi, and Meronian cuisine. Carlo took the time to take note of those already present at the table, settling a strong glare upon the Produese Prime Minister, Riccardo Bonadeo. During both their tenures as heads of state, they had interacted with each other on several occasions; this occurrence the first time they would meet in person. Carlo sat down majestically and methodically, never taking his eyes off of his adversary.

The Produese Prime Minister was well groomed and sat there diplomatically as he sipped on a glass of wine. The man seemed to harbor an air of confidence, which gave way for a smug grin from Carlo. He was certain he would be able to dash whatever confidence the young politician possessed before day's end. Sardou, ever the weaselly diplomat, was attempting, fruitlessly, to spark some light conversation. Carlo had responded to the man's empty stomach line with a necessary chuckle, accompanied by an eye roll that he directed at the ceiling.

As he was seated, his translator and aide arrived shortly thereafter, being directed to their respective seats alongside him. He had remained relatively silent during the meal so far, choosing instead to maintain his ominous glaring. At that point he had enough of studying Bonadeo. In his head he was assured, by his physical assessment of the man from viewing him, that the 'prepubescent fool' would be an easy pushover in the talks ahead.

Carlo met eyes with his chief aide and personal adviser, Hugo Baldassaro; the look on Hugo's face assured Carlo that the expression on his own was doing a poor job of concealing his displeasure. Carlo shuffled in his seat and mustered the most diplomatic expression he could before putting a hand inside the chest of his jacket and retrieving a cigar from inside of it. He place it under his nose and rolled it through his mustache briefly, taking in the scents of the rich tobacco with undertones of coffee and a hint of chocolate.

Cutting the tip off of the cigar, putting the waste on the empty plate in front of him, he placed it in his mouth and held a book of matches out in front him. Simultaneously striking the match and raising the flame to his face he rhetorically asked the group, "It is fine that I smoke in here, yes?"

Several deep puffs ensued and a cloud of smoke began to form over his head and trail away towards the entrance to the dining hall. He shook out the flame with a small dose showmanship and tossed what was left of the match onto the plate as well. He enjoyed another long, strong pull on the cigar and blew out two rings of smoke as he crossed his legs and leaned back in the stylish, cushioned chair he was in. He looked around himself, ignoring the disturbed glares of the Meronais politicians. After some time and more awkward small talk later, he picked up the glass of wine provided to him by some server and rose it above his head. Clearing his throat to garner the attention of the table, once he was comfortable that he had it he spoke aloud in Parthonopian, reiterated in the respective languages of the other delegations by their translators.

"It is with great honor that I extend gratitude to First Deputy Sardou and the Federal Republic for hosting this momentous occasion. To the Produese as well," he motioned his glass towards Bonadeo and his staff, locking eyes with the man, "it is a good display of both humility and intelligence on the part of my Orthurian neighbor, agreeing to meet for this summit."

Feeling content with the stern gaze he had dished out to Bonadeo there he moved his sight past him and slowly surveyed the rest of the table, "Therefore I propose a toast, if you would all be so kind as to join me."

Those gathered tentatively and reluctantly joined Carlo in raising their glasses towards the center of the mahogany table. Carlo was finally beginning to enjoy himself and grinned as he made his toast, "For all those here, history will remember this day. To the fate of Lira!"

Hugo slammed the top of the table and gave a resounding response of agreement as Carlo brought the glass, which he clasped between his fingers at the stem, to his mouth and finished what little wine still swished around in there. He refrained from grimacing at the sip, thankful that the swill was at least not some sad, Porduzi excuse for a vintage.

It was less than a minute after his toast when he placed the empty glass on the table and spoke up once again, this time with a less jovial inflection, "Now, Signore First Deputy," he tapped a long ash off the head of his cigar onto the table cloth and pushed his plate away from him, "I did not fly here from Ancona for a neighborhood brunch. Excuse my bluntness, but I feel there are more pressing matters to attend to and I would wish to get on with it."

There was a tray of crepes towards the center of the table, in front of Carlo and just within his reach. He enjoyed one last draw on his cigar and took what was left, almost half of it, and extinguished it by snuffing it out into one of the delicately prepared pastries before him.

"Now, I am no stranger to business such as this and I am well aware that it is quite rude to discuss politics and other such dealings over a meal. So I'll hold my tongue for now and save it for the meeting room. I do believe it is time we get to it, however. If that were to be to your liking, of course, Signore First Deputy, Signore Prime Minister."

[Produzir]

Riccardo Bonadeo and company were brought through Palais as Sardou with his staff brought the Parthonopian king from Boulanger. His hands behind his back he did not speak much to his staff, preferring during this period to keep his thoughts to himself, and he was being brought to the dining hall to meet with the heads of government, he couldn't help but notice a large portrait that covered a large portion of the hall of Philippe IV of Meronnia, or to him known as Filipe I, as a native Produe, he admired debatably the most powerful man in early modern history. Bonadeo though was not an ambitious man by comparison, sure he wanted to be remembered and help his country succeed but he didn't have the same drive to go and conquer the world like the king's of old. He continued his path towards the dining hall.

Bonadeo's immediate reaction to walking into the fine dining hall was amusement as the table was filled with cuisine from the three leader's respective cultures, Bonadeo was inclined to gaze at his own country's meal as it was stocked with vegetables that are popular in Produese cookery including tomatoes, cabbage, bell peppers and onions. There were many starchy dishes, such as feijoada, a rich black bean stew with beef and pork, and açorda, a Produese bread soup. The food was accompanied by several servants bringing in large trays of wine and other drinks of western Lira. Bonadeo was most delighted to find his personal favourite from his country, Viosinho red wine made from grapes grown on the River Granxas in Galicia.

Bonadeo was the first to sit down before Sardou and Carlo arrived, so in the meantime not to be rude he discussed with his staff and the Meronnians of the Palais waiting on their First Deputy. As word came to him the two figures he'd be meeting with were in the Palais he ended his small talk discussions and straightened out, even if his Parthonopian counterpart was a nuisance to him politically, he hadn't met the man personally and wanted to be favourable to him, as maybe it would be worth it in the long term.

As the three heads though were sat down together though the Produese side of the meeting felt an odd vibe to it. As small talk progressed, while Bonadeo wasn't particularly disturbed, he felt Carlo was displeased he was even here, nevertheless Bonadeo tried to keep quiet until hopefully the moderator of this meeting progressed it. As Carlo was speaking Bonadeo sat drinking the wine provided to them while looking away, patiently waiting for him to finish so the Parthonopian translator could speak. "How fit is this guy to be negotiating on behalf of his country if he can't speak anything other than his native tongue", Bonadeo thought. Carlo kept shooting Bonadeo glares which made Bonadeo normally give a raised eyebrow in return without responding, he could feel the grudge Carlo had against him and his fellow Produes, regardless Bonadeo was confident against Carlo and his eastern country, perhaps Carlo could tell Bonadeo was confident as he also continuously flashed the Prime Minister smirks.

Sardou was pressing conversation, but Bonadeo was getting mildly frustrated with the Parthonopian king's lack of word, after all the whole meeting was because that man had openly threatened Produzland with an ultimatum. He wanted to find out what really went on in Carlo's head, and now Carlo had to chance to in essence speak to the whole Produese nation, and wasn't saying much. Then Carlo proceeded to pull out a cigar in front of the group, his translator spoke for him, "It is fine that I smoke in here, yes?". Bonadeo replied, "Er, sure, I suppose", but inside Bonadeo thought, "Who does this guy think he is?", he turned his chair slightly to the left to look behind him at his company, who had their hands behind their backs and gave a look to the Prime Minister that said; "Well what do you want us to say about it?", accompanied with a shrug from one adviser. Once turning back to face his the Meronais on the other side of the table he could tell they felt the same way.

"It is with great honor that I extend gratitude to First Deputy Sardou and the Federal Republic for hosting this momentous occasion. To the Produese as well," spoke Carlo, while motioning his glass to Bonadeo and stared straight at him, Bonadeo's confidence was still high and despite the 'nice words' he still felt the Parthonopian king was improper, and impertinent, "it is a good display of both humility and intelligence on the part of my Orthurian neighbor, agreeing to meet for this summit", Carlo's translator continued. Bonadeo gave a look back at him of "Oh really now?"

Riccardo Bonadeo didn't respond out loud to that either though until Carlo proposed toast, "For all those here, history will remember this day. To the fate of Lira!" Bonadeo appropriately held up his glass of Viosinho red wine and repeated, "To the fate of Lira." After maybe 45 seconds of continued dining, Carlo loudly rubbed the ash off his cigar onto his table cloth as Bonadeo was wiping his face with his respective cloth, the former pushed away his plate like a 6-year old at family dinner to signal he was done. Carlo spoke in Parthonopian with a rude tone and once his translator spoke that Carlo wished to get on with the meeting Bonadeo firmly locked in his opinion of Carlo in his mind. Carlo proceeded to continue to smoke even though it was quite clear to Bonadeo that everyone else in the dining hall was uncomfortable.

Carlo's translator announced that Carlo had spoke his mind of his opinion to speak politics at dinner and how it was "quite rude", and Bonadeo grew even more frustrated with the king, not yet visibly though. Who did this king think he was, hadn't he ever learned as child any manners. Bonadeo himself may be on the less-refined side of politics, remembering a dinner with the leader of PTdSP in parliament, Luis Montanha, but even Bonadeo could tell one of the men at this table was not like the other.

"Yes, I suppose that would be ideal your majesty, however I assume it would be appropriate to wait on our fellow company at this table to finish with their meals, then as you wish we will proceed with negotiations. I look forward to it", Bonadeo spoke aloud, as Carlo's translator repeated his words in the king's native language.

[Meronnia]

Maximilien Sardou often frustrated his political rivals with his broad lack of vices, though ultimately everyone had their indulgences. Sardou's was revealed at dinner, when he skipped most of the available options in deference to dessert, filling his plate with Petites Joies and drowning them in syrups.

As the meal went on, light conversation was had. Sardou seemed to almost probe the different representatives at the table with unrelated remarks and questions, listening intently to their answers on such things as weather, the flight to Senone, favoured soccer teams, and so on. It was interesting to him to compare how talkative Prime Minister Bonadeo was compared to the Parthonopian king. He doubted Carlo was uncomfortable, likely just bored. Nonetheless the theater went on.

He saw Carlo's cigar for exactly what it was, of course. One could expect nothing less from the Bully of Ancona to try even to assert dominance over a dinner and light conversation. Sardou smiled and nodded to the King to confirm smoking was allowed nonetheless, he was not interested in such small victories. Premier Tremblay seemed offended, but the old man had a dour look so often that it probably wasn't noticeable.

The King's next play was a toast, touting the future of Lira, though noticeably keeping the future vague. Sardou smiled and raised his glass to Carlo, as did the rest of the Mèronais.

Finally, perhaps tiring of his own theatrics, the King extinguished his cigar into a beautiful crepe (Sardou was fascinated by Carlo's pettiness) and requested that they get down to business. Prime Minister Bonadeo agreed with the sentiment, and Sardou nodded, clasping his hands together. "Agli affari!" He proclaimed in Parthonopian, before standing up from the table.

The three leaders, as well as essential staff such as translators, made a short journey from the dining hall into the Silver Cabinet, a finely decorated meeting space for very high level affairs, which had already been set up. Sardou sat at the head of an ancient table, while the seats on the left were reserved for Bonadeo and his staff, and the right for Carlo and his.

Once all were seated and prepared, Sardou spoke.

"Prime Minister, Your Majesty, we have hosted this conference in the interest of peace. Our interest is in the prevention of conflict in our neighborhood. You both come with long-standing points to levy at one another, and it is our hope that in the resolution of these points we can build a peace more amenable to all."

"Secondarily," Sardou's pace slowed slightly, "I would like to provide a preface to this discussion that any resolution that does not provide answers for the 26 families I represent who lost loved ones on AP Flight 818, will be unacceptable to my state." A friendly smile then returned. "With that clarified, it is my hope that we can begin by bringing to awareness the distinct points that should be raised in this conference for resolution. I am sure you both have much to say on this. Who would like the floor?"

[Parthonopia]

Taking his seat at the table, Carlo was placed to the right of Sardou at the head of the table and directly across from the Produese Prime Minister. He rapped his knuckles twice on the antique table as he sat down, before scooting his chair in and adjusting his tie and the lapels of his jacket. He sat there stone faced, his attention on Sardou as he calmly endured the man's opening address. He could not help but believe that there was some sort of mild sardonic tone with whatever the Mèron man said. No attitude transparent enough to warrant lamenting on, at the least.

Everything was finally in place for the meeting to begin, both of the parties present with the laughably unbiased mediator at the helm. The First Deputy was brief, yet poignant, in his short statement which opened the floor to begin the talks. Carlo had to force himself to refrain from twitching at the mention of the Flight 818 crash. He had known it was certain to come up at some point, although he had been satisfied in avoiding the topic thus far. Regardless, he had a plan on how to deal with the subject, a compromise he found to be an acceptable concession, and was eager to get it over with.

With Sardou finished, the time had come for the two Orthurian state leaders to try to talk it out. Carlo adjusted his position in his chair to turn his body from the head of the table to be squarely placed, looking at Bonadeo. He gently cleared his throat and hovered his open hand, palm up, above the table. He raised his eyebrow with this gesture in a silent offer of the chance to speak first. There was no response, nor did the Produes move fast enough, and Carlo took that failure as his opportunity to get the ball rolling.

For the past few days, since agreeing to meeting in Senone in the first place, Carlo and his staff had been prepping for this moment. He had read and been fed an enormous amount of information on both Sardou and Bonadeo, as well as briefings and refreshers on the their respective nations. Carlo was well know for being quite the speaker, his social skills a major attribution to the success of Risorgimento and his success as an influential political leader. As he was prone to do, he had hand written nearly illegible cliff notes of speeches for this occasion, along with posts of favorably worded points and zingers.

He cleared his throat once more, this one louder than the previous, and tapped a pen he was holding on the side of a glass of water in front of him. As he was prone to writing speeches before delivering one, he was just as prone to ignore the notes when it came time to it and would almost always speak off the cuff. Any tidbits of importance in his notes would surely surface in his speech. Placing down his pen he shuffled some of this papers on the table, but as he did so he maintained laser eye contact with Bonadeo.

He had waited long enough and began to talk, maintaining a pleasant yet stern inflection, "Thank you, once again, Signore Sardou, for this opportunity, and as well to you, Signore Bonadeo, for cooperating. Might I start by saying that peace and stability in Orthuria, and for Lira at large, is of my utmost concern. I would say that this sentiment is a given, yet with the current state of the world it may become increasingly difficult to convey that."

"First of all, may I pass along my deepest condolences for the loss of life from those on board the ill fated AP Flight 818. Unforeseen tragedies such as this are always the most devastating and the nature of this event being internationally felt only helps to widen the shock," Carlo paused for emphasis and to take a sip of water before continuing, "I am well aware of the implications of this tragedy and of the subsequent, slanderous rhetoric that has in part lead to this conference. Despite what some may infer, yet no verifiable source has proven, I am keen to point out that this tragic accident, while severely saddening, is just that; an accident."

He let that line sink in for a brief moment but kept up his spiel before giving anyone else enough time to butt in.

"However, in the spirit of diplomacy, of peace, and of amiable relations, as my first order of business here I wish to inform that the release of the black box from the flight to Porduzi officials is authorized. This is ensure to Produzland that there was no ill will here, nor was any foul play at hand. Parthonopian involvement in this tragedy is limited to being the site of the crash. Any and all relevant, or pertinent, information on the crash gained from investigations by Parthonopian agencies will also be relayed. It is my goal to assist those affected in learning what they can, and wish to know, about what happened. However, the importance of the sovereignty of my home is at the forefront of all decisions that I make. There will be no international investigation into this accident, held on Parthonopian soil. Take of it what you will. You may address it as you wish but this is where it stands."

Carlo looked to gauge the reactions from his audience but did not skip a beat, "With that out of the way, I wish to impress upon you all that this meeting is for the purpose of broad strokes. We are all aware of what we wish to discuss and of what issues need addressing. I will restate the specific, general interests of Parthonopia to be discussed here and trust that whatever we may broker can be more meaningfully fulfilled and structured by our staffs and subordinates. I have no doubt that Signore Sardou's amenable peace can be accomplished here, but it will all come down to your decisions. I am a reasonable, pragmatic man; avoiding a cataclysmic war is imperative."

"Let me reiterate, peace and stability in Orthuria is of my utmost concern. War, at all costs, is to be avoided, not sought after. However, just as the tragedy that befell Flight 818, there will always be unpleasantness that is unfortunately unavoidable. As the course of history has steadily moved towards war, it would appear more and more likely with each passing day that one is in the near future."

"My deterrence to war is not to be misconstrued with a fear for its repercussions. Certainly not to be mistaken as cowardice or a lack of confidence in the abilities of Parthonopia's armed forces. I did not issue Monday's ultimatum rashly or without the implicit intent of backing up my words; the time of continuous, systematic transgressions by the Produese state against her neighbors must come to an end."

"This summit solves nothing unless we can all come to an agreement. War in Orthuria is not avoided simply by my presence here. First, demands must be addressed and grievances attended to. As I said before, we are all well aware of what these issues are, as were they clearly outlined in the ultimatum. I will reiterate them, however, if in case you did not care to bother to read it. At this time it boils down to three main points."

Carlo raised a hand next to his head with his index finger extended from a closed fist, he used his fingers as bullet points to his short list of demands as he spoke them.

"The issue of Cabeca. A long time former independent state free of Burlon rule now wishes to once again exert their sacred right to self determination. Just as my fellow countrymen, as well as myself, fought for this right over the past two decades, now the proud Cabecan people do the same. As a sign of good faith, the federal government in Produzland must take a responsible stance on the growing tension in this region and meet the demands of the people. I do not expect Cabeca to be immediately declared a free and independent state but steps must begin to be made to allow for either some sort of referendum on independence, or at the very least further autonomous control. The Cabecan issue also extends to cover the illegal seizure of over one hundred Parthonopian nationals. Their involvement in any riots," he said the word blithely, "has been exaggerated and their immediate release is required."

"The second issue is that of territorial disputes between our two nations. This is an issue that is tied to those I will raise in the third and final point, but an issue weighted enough to necessitate its own point. The illegal occupation of rightful Parthonopian territory, the Parthonopian speaking and ethnically comprised region of Subparrania, is the most contentious dispute that must be addressed here today. Over the past two decades as Risorgimento was slowly and effectively achieved, the Parthonopian people in this region have voiced their hopes of rejoining their brethren in the new found, unified state. Their complicit occupiers have ignored these calls, despite mass approval for integration into the Kingdom from both the ruling and working classes in the region. I have attempted diplomatic outlets for the return of this territory for some years now, to no avail. It is only when the war that my people have only anticipated for years arrives on your doorstep that any meaningful attempts at diplomacy were made. There is no room for negotiation on this subject; Subparrania is to no longer be contested, to be ceded over to the rightful owner."

"Lastly, I wish to address points of major historical grievances against Produzland. The list of charges of demonstrably horrible, and inhumane acts the Produese have gotten away with throughout history is a long, and honestly sickening, list. The section of that list that was perpetrated upon my people and our ancestors is longer than I would wish to admit. There are two important things that must be done in order for relations in Orthuria to begin to thaw. Signore Bonadeo, if you truly wish to come to an amenable peace, today you must, on behalf of your nation, you must officially nullify your nation's participation in the antiquated Treaty of Oliviera and you must own up to the heinous acts your nation and government committed upon the untold millions of innocent Parthonopians during the Porduzinate."

Carlo had grown in enthusiasm as he had delivered his opening statement to the point that he was almost standing. He had kept himself from doing so and cleared his throat once more before concluding.

"With this all said, I have done my part and informed you that I am interested in peace but not at the detriment of my people. There are subjects I am willing to discuss and others that are set in stone. The three issues I have just raised are more certainly the latter, but there are acceptable compromises that can be reached. I leave that to you, Signore Bonadeo, to decide, as I leave you the floor."

[Produzir]

Bonadeo sat firm and straight eyeing Carlo up and down as he went on, his hands clasped together in front of him. Bonadeo still keeping his eyes on Carlo, sipped a glass of water provided on the table. When the king had finally given the floor to the Prime Minister he put his fingertips to the table edge and stood up. He took a large breath, locked eyes with Sardou for a brief moment who gave the prime minister a nod in response, and Bonadeo began; "We accept your condolences of flight 818, and we will accept your offer of the blackbox of the flight. We understand you do not wish for your sovereignty to be infringed upon, and we will not press the issue of a foreign investigation inside your territory, at the moment. As we are not here for a court session, and this is not an inquiry".

"Hopefully that clears up the issue of Flight 818 for this conference. Me and my staff will accept or refute your points in the order you, your majesty, presented them to us in. Us in Produzland can also say war is in the least of both of our interests. Hopefully as a king you value your people's lives as opposed to simple territorial expansion or showing dominance to a foreign nation. My predecessors as Prime Minister and I have made it so Produzland does not have to resort to sending young men to their death, accordingly we have attempted to keep that ideal and avoid war with the small nations of the Parthonopian peoples over the course of the last decade, so we decided to remove ourselves from the region's affairs and let your country exist as a sovereign state. However, this ideal has been increasingly difficult to maintain with your government openly threatening my country and my people. I need to look no further than the ultimatum that brought us here, in which you yourself your majesty said this;" Bonadeo picked up the first document on a stack of papers that had been set aside to him on the table as he sat down. He cleared his throat and read off the paper, "There is no room left for Produzland in Cabeca or Subparrania. The Prime Minister has by this Friday, January the 17th, to decide how he wishes go about returning the Subparranian marches to Parthonopia as well as the course to independence a future Cabecan state will take", in our opinion and the mind of the common Produe, this is a threat of war against our nation if these demands were not met by your desired deadline. Are we wrong to be skeptical of you speaking now that your best interest is to avoid war?" Bonadeo said in a stern voice and pressed his hands to the table leaning foward.

Bonadeo stood straight again in front of his seat, "Now, let me and my staff continue, your next concern was the self-determination of the State of Cabeca, comprising of the provinces of Biscegona, and San Aurelio. While we can debate on the annexation of the Republic of Cabeca in 1937, that situation is of the past under a President who has been dead of four decades, and a party that was voted out of power in accordance. We must focus on the present, in which many independent polls including The Observer, Noite de Proádusia, and EdRP, have shown that the majority of Cabecans are Unionists and support remaining within our country. However we can see the benefits of an official referendum sponsored by our government in Burlon. Which is one of the points I will concede on, an accept the possibility of a Cabecan independence referendum, it is not in my power as Prime Minister however to execute direct executive orders, but I will be in favour when it comes to future discussion within the Produese parliament".

"The second part of your request is the release of the Parthonopian nationals arrested in the San Aurelio protest earlier this year. I'm sure you had this idea yourself in mind but I will reiterate, we will release the Parthonopian nationals in exchange for the release of Ambassador Alexandre da Sapateiro. We can also debate on the issue whether the seizure of the Parthonopian nationals or Sapateiro was legal or illegal, but again we aren't here to discuss those issues themselves."

"Next, you want to discuss the issue of the State of Subparrania, consisting of the provinces of Tiombora and Maletra. This is the first issue my government will not be so easy to give in on. We will only cede the territory to the Kingdom of Parthonopia in exchange for massive financial compensation for the territories lost production. We can negotiate on the exact amount of money, but we specifically request the finances be in our currency, the Produese Rozar. My advisers suggested a second offering, but I personally think you would favour the former agreement. In exchange for Subparrania, you cede the eastern Rodaves, or a large portion of territory to the east of the State of the Rodaves, exact borders can be negotiated on. It may sound unreasonable, but it is why I believe you'd prefer the former agreement."

Bonadeo rolled his eyes and sighed as he knew what he was getting into with this next point of Carlo's. "Lastly, historical grievances of the Kingdom of Produzland. This is quite a controversial issue, but to put it mildly, we have displayed what took place during the Great Olympic War in what was then known as the former Parthonopia, a forced relocation of Parthonopians from the gained territory in the Treaty of Oliveira, while yes we can admit rather cruel actions occurred in the disputed Porduzinate", Bonadeo hesitated before continuing, "A genocide is a exaggeration of the events that really occurred. And as such we will not commit to lying to our people on behalf of appeasing your nation".

Bonadeo looked away for a second letting out a short group of breaths. He stood his hand straight again towards Carlo though and fixtured his hands. "That is our immediate response to your proposals. Thank you". And he sat back down again to take another drink of water.

[Parthonopia]

"A tad winded after that, are you now, boy?"

Carlo had listened to Bonadeo drone on and rolled his eyes throughout the show, each pass heavier and more exaggerated. After the man had taken a seat back down, his rebuttal to Carlo's address concluded, Carlo was riled enough to dive head first into the debate. While he had certainly wanted to, he did not interject whatsoever while Bonadeo spoke. It was only right to extend the man the same courtesy he had given Carlo, so there were no interruptions. That was only for the first round of the talks, however, and Carlo would not give Bonadeo the chance again.

"First of all, remain seated while you are speaking to me here, like a civilized statesmen."

He was having fun at this conference, finally, although before he had arrived he was sure he would enjoy heckling the two Liran world leaders he was meeting with. He had been watching Bonadeo intently and the young man did have quite some degree of charisma to him. Carlo could tell that he was unnerving the Prime Minister, even as early as during the brunch. He would be sure to keep it up.

"For a learned man such as yourself, you hold an interestingly inaccurate world view," he scoffed, "but I will credit you for being wise enough to come to terms on the Cabecan issue. Regardless of what your biased media may have to say on public opinion in the region, it is clear that independence is a contentious topic. I look forward to seeing this referendum and I even wish you luck," Carlo raised his glass of water out in front of him to the height of his forehead, "may the vote swing for you in the manner you are so sure it will. If what you say is true, you have nothing to lose."

Carlo took a sip from the glass and placed it back down on the table, rather forcefully. He carefully licked his lips and made a satisfied ahh after he swallowed the water. He then, rather spontaneously, shuffled in his seat as he dug one arm into his pants pocket. He rummaged around until he withdrew something from within there that he kept concealed in his fist.

"Now I will give you my two cents on Subparrania," suddenly he opened his hand to reveal two small copper coins that he then tossed onto the center of the table, in Bonadeo's direction.

"This is the main topic of discussion to be had here today. This issue is the issue at the forefront of the ultimatum that brings us here. Subparrania, and their sister region Cisparrania for that matter," he gave a sideways glare to Sardou, "were historic homelands of Parthonopian ethnic people who spoke Parthonopian before there ever was a unified Parthonopian state," he spoke with energy and bravado, gesticulating his arms with a similar tone.

"Territory apart of the first Kingdom for centuries! Now repressed, abused, and ravaged for almost a century by unwelcome invaders. After the Olympic War they were free for a short time until occupied once again. Subparrania is Parthonopian, the people there wish to be Parthonopian. My two cents on Subparrania; these two cents," he pointed, dramatically at the coins he tossed on the table, "are the extent of payment a Produes shall receive for returning what they had stolen."

[Produzir]

Sardou was amused by the King’s showmanship, but made no attempt to interject.

“I’d personally disagree with your sentiment, but unfortunately these are negotiations, not an unconditional surrender to your government. We’re not about to give up territory that has been under Produese administration for 120 years only under the context of avoiding war. Territory has monumental value and isn’t a chess piece on a board”, Bonadeo responded.

Carlo interrupted, “Administration is over. Should have never been, and all that can be done is to end it now!”

“Well your majesty if it shouldn’t have ever been your ancestors should have won the war it started, we can’t change the reality of history.”

Carlo laughed aloud at Bonadeo’s comment, a loud slap on his knee could be heard from under the table. He turned to look at his aide Hugo who was wide eyed as he looked back at Carlo. The King continued his exaggerated chuckle as he turned back around to Bonadeo before becoming completely silent. He slapped the table with an open palm and answered with force, “You are correct in saying that this is not a chess piece we are talking about, just as you are correct in the fact that we cannot change the course of history! I would never have guessed that I would have been in such agreement with you, Signore Bonadeo,” he said sardonically, “what can be done, however, will affect how the current reality is shaped, the future’s history. How is that book going to paint you?”

“Regardless of how unjust you feel the cession of Subparrania was, you should not be forcing the ‘repercussions’ of that event onto the people 120 years later. Not a single person alive today was involved in that event.”

Carlo quickly interjected, “They may not be alive but their children are; the same children that have raped and pilfered from my people for lifetimes!”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s their ‘successors’ they’re different people that had different motives and different lives. Hell, my predecessors were Parthonopian immigrants to Produzland!” Replied Bonadeo.

“And good on your grandparents,” Carlo rolled his eyes, “regardless, none of this changes the facts of the current situation in the region.”

“It does in the fact your motives for retaking the region are unethical. If you were simply asking me to hold a referendum and see if the Subparranian people wanted to leave for your country, this would be a different conversation.”

“Refrain from interrupting me in the future,” Carlo said with a glare, “The only thing unethical here is the treatment of the Parthonopian people by the Produese. You said yourself we were not going to get into the legalities of how this territory was acquired or whether or not it was legitimate, which it was not. But what you are concerned with now did not stop your government from repressing separation movements in the region that began in the early aughts. Subparranians have spoken in the past, and they still do today, that they do not wish to be a part of Produzland.”

“Pardon me, but you have already interrupted me several times, we are equals here after all”, Bonadeo said sternly. “I attempted but your main reasoning for the cession of Subparrania back is that question of legality, so you’re forcing my hand to make it about legality and how your reason is unjust.”

Sardou cleared his throat. It seemed the only thing to rouse an interjection was when the argument about the issues became an argument about the argument. “Please gentlemen, and we were making such progress!” He might have laughed in a different context.

Bonadeo closed his eyes and breathed. “Okay, our apologies First Deputy. Anyways-”

“The boy does not speak for me,” Carlo was quick to quip.

Bonadeo sighed and refrained from speaking.

Sardou nodded. “That’s quite alright, I do not wish for an apology. I wish for us to return to the matter at hand.”

Carlo gave a clap, “Ah, yes! The matter at hand,” he turned to glare at Bonadeo once more, “if we are quite done with semantics, that is. The matter at hand is that the time has come for a Subparrania separate from Produese control. The people demand it, history and law necessitate it, and the ultimatum requires it. Perhaps Signore Bonadeo can propose a better solution to this problem than the two laughable excuses he offended me with earlier.”

Bonadeo was now getting visibly frustrated. “Ignoring the fact you have no direct evidence of Subparrania even wishing to leave its current state, I think it is perfectly reasonable to at the very least request financial compensation for the territory”.

Carlo gave a sarcastic chuckle, “This I can agree to! I have given you my offer,” he once again gestured to the coins on the table, “you may collect your payment whenever you wish.”

“Your majesty, geopolitics are not a joke, and by your ‘gesture’ I am convinced you aren’t taking this as seriously as you should. You’re the king of Parthonopia, not the king of Olympia.”

“Oh, my poor man,” Carlo shook his head, “I’m afraid that I am taking this all very, very seriously. In fact more seriously than I believe you are. I was serious when I lead Risorgimento to where it has brought my people. I was serious when I was crowned King of Parthonopia. I was serious when I wrote that ultimatum on Monday. Just as I am serious now.”

“Your people are still starving and are making-”

“Let me stop you right there! My people starve due to a system of forced division and oppression, a century long, inflicted upon my people! From hefty debts and reparations paid to courts like your own,” he turned to Sardou, “and yours,” Sardou almost shrugged. He assumed Carlo was fully aware payments to Mèronie from the Treaty were forwarded directly to Cisparrania, when they were a signatory.

Carlo turned back to Bonadeo, “Payments that crippled the local economy for decades to come. Not to mention the many other restrictions and damages done by that damning Treaty. Now you expect more for returning what should have never been taken?”

Bonadeo sat still and glared straight at Carlo, “You really are out of touch with your people. Lest we forget that you were a prince of a rich coastal faring nation on the Pyrrenian Bay, you wouldn’t know the common man in Ancona, much less the whole region.”

Sardou knew immediately that would set Carlo off. Rather than futilely try to prevent it, he calculated that to intercede when the man had released some of the pressure built up might be preferable.

“The Duke of a city state on the brink of failure, which I restored, from the infrastructure to the economy, with the help of the working classes! The Parthonopian people have been stranded, abused, for decades and went to bed at night praying that one day their pride, their safety, could be restored. I gave them that.,” Carlo thumped his chest with his thumb with each word of the sentence, “I am here today because of the will of the people. I am out of touch? You, boy, are out of touch with the will of the Parthonopian man! Who are you to tell me what my people wish? I tell you!”

“If you really wanted to show your people you cared, you would be able to realize that you meanwhile live in a palace not having to care about how you’re going to feed your children. And your only claim to that luxury life is that of your ancestors. Sure it’s one thing to have a monarchy, but to give that monarch absolute power in the country just off birth, it’s disgraceful to the common man!”

Carlo spat onto the floor with force as Bonadeo spoke his last line. He looked at the man with disgust as he growled, “I worry every night on how to feed my children! The people of Parthonopia are my children and I have worked for decades, tirelessly, and continue to do so, to improve their lot in life.”

Sardou glanced down to the King’s saliva that sat on one of the most expensive floors in the country. He did not comment on it. Leaning forwards, he said “This is not a productive avenue of discussion. Let us capitalize on what agreements have been made. There will be consideration of a referendum on autonomy and/or independence in Cabeca, and a release of Parthonopian nationals as well as Ambassador Alexandre da Sapateiro.”

“Ah, yes, the pedophile,” Carlo interjected. Bonadeo’s face spun back to Carlo with disdain.

Sardou paused to allow the King to speak, but didn’t seem to react at all to the words, continuing on. “And, of course, the release of all necessary information surrounding Flight AP 818. These, I would consider successes.” He paused for a moment. “Perhaps a recess? Your majesty, I believe I may have just the vintage of proper Parthonopian red you might enjoy, though I would trust your judgement of its veracity over mine.”

Carlo grinned, wondering if the greasy Meron was perhaps less of a weasel than he had imagined. He made sure to quickly clear that thought from his mind, however, to ensure he did not fall into any traps.

“A recess sounds wonderful. I would be delighted to share a drink with you, Signore Sardou.”

[Meronnia]

Chambre Gris

King Carlo and his staff had the Chambre Gris for their own during the recess, a finely decorated room with a more casual atmosphere. Lounging chairs, book cases, and a beautiful view of the coast.

First Deputy Sardou entered the room in which the monarch was stationed, with a bottle in his hand. Looking down at the label, he read out “Vino di Piana del’Taur.” Looking up to face Carlo, he smiled and continued “Twenty years. From my own collection.” He placed the bottle down on a small table between the chairs in the room. “I’m told it’s an excellent wine, though I have not yet had the pleasure of breaking it out. It is one you have a personal connection to, I believe?”

Carlo smiled a sly grin as he picked the bottle up from the table and looked over the label himself. He spun the bottle around in his hand, “A 2000, Reserve, I see. Was a beautiful year. Mild winter and a good harvest.”

He placed the bottle back down on the table and looked up to Sardou who remained standing. He snapped at one of his aides to provide him and the First Deputy with glasses.

“A fine choice, might I say, the vintner is very skilled at his trade. The product of my, former, father in law’s personal sommelier,” Carlo gestured to the chair across from him, “please, take a seat, let us chat for some time while we wait for the pencil pushers to finish their drafts.”

Sardou smiled and maneuvered towards a chair. The King had not been all that talkative thus far in the conference, but it seemed at last that a good shouting match and a good wine were the correct levers to pull. He gratefully accepted a glass from one of Carlo’s aides, nodding in thanks, and allowed it to be filled as he spoke.

“Your Majesty, before we put business behind us for a time I must apologise. Being a mediator I do not speak for the boy,” one of Sardou’s talents was adopting other people’s vernacular to communicate with them, “however it is unjust for you to have been insulted so under my roof.”

Carlo had to pause and refrain from the sip of wine that he was about to take as he gave a short, hearty laugh in reply. He then stuck his nose into his glass and took a deep inhale before twirling the liquid inside of it and then drinking some.

“Insulted?” He opened his mouth and his eyes wider before another quick chuckle, “Not at all! In fact I am having a wonderful time,” he leaned forward in his seat and held his glass out in front of him to toast with Sardou, “I must thank you again for the opportunity in Senone, today.”

Sardou smiled and toasted with the King. Carlo was just the sort, of course, to be having fun with it all. Sardou took a deep sip of the Parthonopian wine. He let the moment sit, before sighing. “It pains me greatly, your majesty, to have to admit this.” He looked into the glass for a moment. “The Parthonopians do know how to make a fine drink.”

“Haha!” Carlo gave his knee a vigorous slap with delight. He raised an eyebrow to Sardou and took a deep swig, “Contrary to popular belief, Parthonopians are good at more than fighting and screaming; we are also very good at singing opera and making love. Although,” he chuckled and continued with a wink, “the Meron are quite good at the latter as well, or so I’ve been told. Certainly a driving factor into why I learned the language so many years ago.”

Sardou gave a sly smile and nodded, before taking another sip. “There are certainly many delights you will have to trial in Senone before you leave.” Sardou mused for a moment, staring out the window into the bay. He spoke quietly, almost to himself. “Fighting and screaming, opera and love-making...” He tilted his head, and a grin spread across his face. “Ah, but you’ve repeated yourself.”

“Perhaps that would explain why we are so good at it,” Carlo jested in return. He could not trust the Meron as far he could throw the man, but was coming to accept that he could enjoy some light humor with him at the least. He sat back in his chair and relaxed, shortly finishing the rest of his glass and placing it on the table. In the background of the room his staff were working diligently, tapping away a proposal and other documents. It was not long before one saw the King’s empty glass and walked over to refill it.

“More wine, Signore Sardou?”

Sardou smiled and accepted, thanking the staff member in Parthonopian. He let the comfortable silence rest for a while, begrudgingly enjoying the Parthonopian wine. “Your majesty, I’m sure you have experience enough to know I came both to drink wine, and discuss business.” He sat up a little in his chair. “My government has been preparing proposals on the disputed issues. It is my hope that we can cooperate on these matters, and thus pressure the Produese into acceptance.”

Carlo, who had been previously grinning, changed his expression before placing his glass down onto the table. It was not that he was disappointed with Sardou, he would have been a fool to think the man was only there to drink with him. He had foreseen the business talks and his displeased look was only a part of the game.

“It never is, just for the wine, is it?” He gave a dry chuckle, significantly less enthusiastic than his previous ones, “My government too has been preparing proposals. Produese will accept, regardless, but I am curious to hear what you have to say.”

Permission to continue. Sardou placed his glass on the table and spoke evenly, “The Produese, as I’m sure you are all too aware, are a frustratingly bullheaded sort. Accepting their wrongdoings seems impossible to them.” He waved his hand airily, “All the other issues are minor in comparison to Subparrania, of course.”

“As I understand it, it is your primary goal to ensure the wellbeing of your people, and their right to freedom within the traditional Parthonopian lands. The Produese, of course, only seem to care about sovereignty.” Sardou cleared his throat and leaned further, as he continued the pitch.

“The unitary nature of Produzland is, in the long term, unsustainable. We propose that Produzland’s provinces of Tiombora and Maletra be combined into a Subparranian administration, with significant devolved authority. Further, customs and tariffs between this territory and Parthonopia should be ended, and use of Parthonopian currency in this territory should be allowed. A devolution model which could even provide an example for Cabeca, that is unless full independence is achieved for that territory.”

Sardou eyed Carlo carefully, “Perhaps even a model that could inform the future of Cisparrania, depending on the attitude of the government of that state.”

“Devolution,” he paused, “it could work. As a step towards full integration into Parthonopia. Devolved Produese power is still their finger in the pie. There is no agreement where Bonadeo walks away with any control in Subparrania.”

Sardou shrugged. That was the end of it. “So long as a stable peace is achieved, amicably between all, our proposal is just one of many. I’d note, of course, that devolution wouldn’t only be supported by my government during Produese sovereignty over the territory.” Sardou didn’t have to say it directly, but Carlo would know he didn’t want Parthonopian troops in that territory.

“Yes, yes, as long as a stable peace. Is that not what we all want? Come now,” Carlo sighed, switching his position in the chair, “there is plenty more time for business discussion later. Let us enjoy a fine wine for a moment without such tedious conversation.”

...

Chambre Rouge

Prime Minister Bonadeo and his staff had the Chambre Rouge as their base camp for the recess. The room was dominated by a great fireplace opposite the doors, which the lounging chairs arced around.

The Produese were left to their own devices for some time before being interrupted by none other than the First Deputy, Sardou, who entered with a smile and offered Bonadeo a handshake. “I would not be fulfilling my duty as a host if I did not check in on my guests,” he exclaimed.

“You’ve certainly accomplished that feat with splendor First Deputy”, Bonadeo patting the shaking hands as he spoke. “Can’t say my tenure during this conference though has had a lack of frustration however”.

Sardou nodded sympathetically, leaving a moment’s silence before responding “I find often it is the most brutish men you must be most delicate with. Nonetheless, progress has been made. You’ve done well, Prime Minister. Most points of discussion have already left the table.”

Bonadeo gave a light smile and nodded in return. “Thank you First Deputy, I was confident before the meeting we could solve those issues swiftly, the issues on the Subparrania and the disputed Parthonopian genocide I thought distastefully of however. How does one negotiate with someone unwilling to negotiate? Perhaps a hyperbole, but this is probably the biggest challenge I’ve had on my hands since entering politics”, Bonadeo looked down at his palms in compliance.

Sardou smiled and led the man to the chairs by the fireplace as he spoke. “That only speaks to how well you’ve done at home, Mr Prime Minister.” Taking a seat, he continued, “I do not expect to be able to broach an agreement on prior happenings in Tiombora and Maletra today,” Sardou referred to the Porduzinate gracefully, “though a good start, and one more palatable to your government, I’d imagine, would be conceding that the nature of the Treaty of Oliviera was unjust.”

“Oh of course, however by first impression the hope for a true compromise seems dim. Secondly I would concede Oliviera was unjust, in spite of the fact it was brought on Parthonopia by itself in the grand scheme of things. However, I’m not going to put an undeserved blemish on my historical counterparts that they didn’t deserve only to make Carlo and his administration happy if it came down to it”, Bonadeo responded quietly.

“While Carlo is boisterous and confident, I’m not deterred or threatened by the man or his country”, the Prime Minister continued.

Sardou eyed the man carefully, perhaps analysing his words. Seemingly satisfied, he continued. “Well, Prime Minister, I serve only as an adjudicator. I must leave it to you to measure the value of the past against the value of the future.” He paused to give the words their full effect.

“Regardless, that is but one matter we have not yet drawn to a happy conclusion. There still sits another; perhaps the most significant issue to be solved during this conference.” Sardou left his words there, subtly inviting the Prime Minister to speak first on the matter of Subparrania.

Bonadeo’s frustration came up again, “I believe me and my administration is being perfectly reasonable on this issue, what kind of delusional man believes they deserve any kind of territory for the whopping sum of nothing?! And only on the basis of historical grievances? There hasn’t even been a referendum on the region’s will, the only primary source that Carlo is using is his own air-filled head... My apologies for getting a fair bit frustrated but he’s treating this like he just pummeled our country into submission and this is our conditional surrender. The man’s treating my administration, and I’d even argue yourself like children.”

Sardou sighed and shrugged. “He embarrasses his nation with his conduct. You might be able to enjoy that and take some pride in the contrast of how you represent your peoples, with a small amount of effort.” Looking into the fireplace, the First Deputy tilted his head to the side slightly. “Perhaps a referendum isn’t a bad idea…” he mused.

Turning back to Bonadeo, the First Deputy stood. “The strongest wills are those that can make the hardest decisions, Mister Prime Minister. I believe I see a strong will in you.” Looking down at his watch, Sardou continued. “The recess will expire soon enough, I will give you some time to consider things.” With that, he was gone.

[Meronnia]

Back at the Table

The First Deputy stood alone in the meeting room. He glanced at the empty chairs facing each other, and checked his watch. He sat at the head of the table, and went over his paper notes. The recess would be over very soon.

Not long after, the main door opened, Carlo bursting through and entering the room like a boxer into the arena. Chest puffed out and head held high, he waltzed towards his seat with his staff in tow. He sat down slowly, undoing the button of his suit jacket as he did so. Once seated he swiped at the wrinkles on his pant legs before placing his arms on the countertop. He looked towards the First Deputy, giving him a respectful nod before chuckling to himself briefly. He raised his right hand and made a light snap with his fingers, saying with a grin, “Bona boy must be taking a quick, light sleep in the lounge, I’m sure he will be with us soon.” Sardou made a thin smile and nodded to the King, but did not respond.

Carlo turned out to be correct and Bonadeo entered the room, fed up with the negotiations that had recently come to a standstill, it felt like months since he last spoke to the conference. He tightened his cuffs and took the seat adjacent to Carlo, with his staff following close behind and parking behind Bonadeo. He folded his legs over one another and said sternly, "Hope I haven't caused any delay, glad to see my peers appearing to already be prepared for the continuation of these talks."

Any smile was quickly erased from Carlo’s face once Bonadeo had joined them. He stiffened up for an attack and said, “Ah, glad you could join us. I presume you’ve finally come to the table to negotiate, or are we to continue bickering like fishwives?”

Sardou leaned forwards a little, tactically interjecting before things fell apart before they’d begun. “Your Majesty, Prime Minister, let us review. The horrific accident of Flight AP 818 will be reviewed internationally,” Sardou had a reference sheet of the agreement drafted so far in front of him, but he spoke from memory rather than read it, “the Parthonopian nationals detained from protests in northern Produzland will be repatriated, and Ambassador da Sapateiro released. And, of course, a referendum on the future of Cabeca.”

Sardou glanced at the men either side of him, showing little emotion. They’d made progress, certainly, but the real challenge had been left for last. Subparannia would be delayed no longer. “The next matter at hand, gentlemen?” He opened the floor to the inevitable chaos to come.

Bonadeo jumped at the opportunity to speak first on the issue, "We in Burlon stand by that Subparrania will not be handed over without return. We have specified previously that we will accept the transfer of the territory with, at minimum, financial compensation, whether in currency or the economic output of the region for a specified amount of time." Bonadeo uncrossed his legs and sat forwards to await Carlo's response.

Carlo rapped his knuckles on the table and said blithely, “So seeing as we are still at an impasse here,” he glared at Bonadeo, “what else is on the table that needs discussing? Let us circle back around to your unlawful occupation, perhaps when you will have some more reason. For now, maybe we can discuss something easier to agree with; plainly stated facts of history. Have you come to terms at least, Signore Prime Minister, with accepting the heinous actions of former Porduzi soldiers perpetrated upon my nation?”

The Produese staff looked towards their Prime Minister, who after a few seconds of silence began with the safest thing he could say, "Would you care to specify, your majesty? "

Carlo could not help but grimace at Bonadeo’s slimy dodge of a response. Shaking his head he replied, “You know full well what I am referring to; the Porduzinate. Come now, surely you can recognize that we have made some headway today. Even more may be made between us if your government no longer sweeps this matter under the rug and recognizes its past atrocities rather than deny them.”

Bonadeo nervously gave a minor shrug and tried to give a bit more into Carlo's cause, "Look, we recognize that the forced relocation program of the Olympic War period in Parthonopian territory resulted in the deaths of some Parthonopians, however it's a hyperbole to refer to this period as a 'Parthonopian Genocide', or the 'Porduzinate' as you in Parthonopia call it."

“Hyperbole,” Carlo refrained from seething and chuckled instead, “of course it is hyperbole to put the apt title of a genocide on the systematic rape and murder of over a million Parthonopians. There are two ways I see the remainder of this conference unfolding; we can come to an agreement or your citizens can experience what my ancestors did. I’m no longer in a mood for games. The price for Subparrania has already been paid, three times over. I could care less that Porduzi history books glance past the glaring atrocities committed by your people in the past; only if, that is, if Subparrania is ceded over.”

"As stated previously", Bonadeo said tiredly, " We'll only accept the transfer on Suparrania in exchange for financial compensation, these are negotiations, where you win some, you lose some. I can't hand over Suparrania for nothing."

Carlo smirked, “Correct. I understand that you cannot accept a sum of nothing for the transfer; which is why I believe the massive amounts of wealth and capital plundered from the region over the course of a century is more than a fair price. You also seem to forget that my offer, while lacking a cash value per say, is not nothing.” His hands were moving to punctuate the sentence as he spoke, “you said yourself now that you win some and you lose some. I am all too aware of that. I am, however, willing to gamble that our two nations armies going toe to toe today ends in a win for mine…”

Carlo leaned back into his chair, shrugging nonchalantly, “My offer is not nothing, Prime Minister, it is the chance for you to hand over Subparrania peacefully, with no loss of life. No blood spilt. Did you forget why we are here today? This is only a formality, if we do not reach an agreement the ultimatum still stands. I can always just take it from you, which I assuredly will cost you more than ceding it now.”

Bonadeo internally rolled his eyes, "Look, I'm going to be honest, you may think highly of your country, but you're not going to win a war against us, you're diplomatically isolated and geographically disadvantaged. We've had four wars between us since 1800, and Parthonopia has won one. I like to wonder why you're so confident in yourself."

“I am not confident in myself,” Carlo scowled, “I am confident in the Legion. The Army of the Parrania Guard alone stands at two men for every one of its Porduzi counterparts. I told you I’m willing to roll the dice here, but your willingness to do so shows me you have no empathy for the countless thousands of your people that are going to die for nothing.”

Carlo abruptly erupted from his chair, it wheeling backwards a few feet as he did so. He slammed a fist on the table as he nearly shouted, “My Army of the West is just as strong as the EdGP and poised to be moonlighting in Burlon next week's end. Regardless of my international standing and whether or not Parthonopia could withstand a joint force against her, what is for certain is that before my demise I would ensure every last city, town and village in Produzland receives the same treatment Parthonopia has by Porduzi hands in the past!”

With that he turned around and began to head to the door, his staff still seated and dumbfounded. As he approached he exit, one hand on the door knob, he turned around to witness Sardou and Bonadeo’s reactions. Taking it all in for a brief second he quipped, “Now all of the cheap, swill wine I have been subjected to, and,” looking squarely at Bonadeo, “your piss poor diplomacy have upset my stomach. I must relieve myself, so I will leave you here to reflect on the future of our continent. When I return, I hope to find you in a more amenable mood, less I am done talking with you and will be moving on to talking over the phone with my friend the Grand Marshal.”

Sardou, who had silently observed the men argue, crossed his arms as he watched the King walk out the door. He observed the faces of the Parthonopian staffers.

As Bonadeo turned away from the door which Carlo exited back to Sardou, he gave a shrug and let out a frustrated quip, "Is my administration really being that unreasonable?" Sardou turned and simply replied, “Perhaps you also need to relieve yourself, Prime Minister.”

[Parthonopia]

After a short, brisk stroll through a finely decorated corridor, Carlo entered the only bathroom he had made note of earlier, off of the dining hall where he had lunch prior to the talks. He was moderately impressed by the aesthetic of the restroom. Marble tiles with thick black veins running through them lined the floors and walls; copper faucets and bowl sinks, with a green patina, sat atop a large granite slab countertop. The entirety of the palace strongly reminded him of the urgent need for renovations at the Castello d’Cormor, but this bathroom specifically so. He was taking some notes on design ideas for when he returned home. A series of antique mirrors were on the wall above the countertop, Carlo standing in front of one, twisting the ends of his mustache with his pointer fingers and thumbs. Satisfied with the curl, he finished straightening it out and spun around on his heel.

Before him were three urinals; he would’ve expected a bathroom attendant at the doorway dispersing mints and cologne if this weren’t an international conference to avoid an imminent continental war. He approached the center one and unzipped his pants before beginning a long, steady stream. He looked to the ceiling and simultaneously released a healthy sigh of relief as he emptied his bladder.

He snapped his neck backwards, mid stream, to the sound of the bathroom door abruptly swinging open. Bonadeo let it close behind him while he pulled at his collar, looking around at the overly aesthetic lights of the bathroom. He turned the corner to find three urinals in a line, with one in use by his majesty himself.

Unfortunately Bonadeo quickly came to realize that Carlo, occupying the middle urinal, had swung his neck around to stare at him once he entered the room. Bonadeo decided to hide the awkwardness he was expecting once he approached the urinal to Carlo’s right. The brusque monarch grunted and turned back to stare at the wall, muttering loud enough for Bonadeo to hear, “Don’t get old, boy, you find yourself in here more and more often.”

Bonadeo avoided eye contact with Carlo as he pulled up next to him and unbuckled and unzipped his dress pants, beginning to relieve himself as well. As soon as Carlo could hear the sound of liquid hitting the porcelain he turned his head towards Bonadeo’s. He grinned, holding back a laugh, and raised his voice this time, “I’m impressed, haha! I took you for the kind that has to sit down when they piss.”

Finishing before the king, despite arriving into the restroom after him, Bonadeo zipped and fiddled with his belt buckle before turning away from the urinal and retucking his undershirt into his dress pants. At the moment however, Bonadeo had thought of his father, and his origins as a Parthonopian condottieri, and began to let out, in Parthonopian. He began with a sigh, "You know, my father always told me a phrase he got from my grandfather, 'La vittoria sulla morte è la nostra gloria promessa'." Bonadeo chuckled, "He wanted me to be in the military, fight for the country. I always thought about it. But, I realized the best way to fight for my country was in an office, not on the field. And I will not send my people to fight to the death for glory."

Carlo, finally finishing up, gave a vigorous shake and turned right around after a jostling. He stared into Bonadeo’s eyes, who continued talking while returning the eye contact. The king let him talk while he put away his private, closed up his pants and tidied his shirt.

"It pains me, you know", he continued. " As a Parthonopian and a Produe. Because I know our two peoples can do great things together. But when they fight, they have lasting impacts on both of us. I brought up those wars in the conference room, but they didn't accomplish anything. We're still on the brink of war today! That's why it pains me that I represent one side of this conflict. I was elected to fight for the Produese, and even if they despise me for what I represent, I will fight for a better future for them too."

Carlo made a loud snorting noise as he sucked in mucus from his nose and out of his throat, turning around to spit it out into the urinal. He turned back to Bonadeo, retaining the somber straight face he had been wearing the whole time in the restroom. Raising a single eyebrow he began his interrogation, “And what does that future entail? How important is Subparrania to that future?”

He walked closer and closer to Bonadeo with each question, “Is keeping Sub so important for that future that it is worth the many, many, countless unnecessary deaths that doing so will cause?”

Another step forward and he was face to face with the Prime Minister, within inches of him and their toes practically touching. They were both engaged in a deadly blinking contest, neither one backing down. Carlo smirked and looked up at Bonadeo, who had a full head of height on him. This time speaking in decently fluent Produese, he followed with one more question, “If your future is decidingly for the betterment of Produzland, why do you continue to waste my time bringing up your family’s Parthonopian past?”

Bonadeo had tried to open up to the man and negotiate with him, but now he had really come to realize what this man truly is, a child. And a bit out of character, he finally decided to put that child back where he belongs. "Alright I am finished negotiating with you Lestaca, I've been just about accommodating enough of your sad excuse for diplomacy! You might be standing there thinking you're invincible now because you got your little Parthonopian states duck's in a row, but I promise you, you're standing on a tower of sand. If you want to walk out of this conference here and now, you do it! But I can promise you every inch of soil will cost you in blood until you have nothing left to give, you understand me? It will pain me for your ill-trained levy patriots to die on the battlefield, but if that's the fate you wish to put them to, then so be it. We don't wish to fight our fellow Orthurians, but if that’s what this means then so be it, because we will run Parthonopia into the ground just like every single time your country tried to challenge us before. As much as I respect my lineage, I was elected to lead the Produese, and that's what I'm going to do."

Carlo’s grin grew as Bonadeo’s angry ranting became more irritated. He was finally getting to have the fight that he so craved but was certain that the Produese Prime Minister was too spineless to entertain. It seemed that he had at last gotten under the man’s skin enough to get him fighting back. He nodded smugly, conceding the slightest sign of his apparent respect and delight in an enraged politician speaking plainly and honestly. He smiled wide, giving a firm pat on Bonadeo's shoulder, “Now I believe that you may actually have the littlest bit of Parthonopian blood in those veins, boy! After seeing that baby uccellino of yours over there,” he motioned with his head to the urinals, “I’m both surprised and a tad impressed by the enormous size of your balls, which you have on display with that adorable tirade.”

Stepping in even closer, his nose almost making contact with his counterpart, he furrowed his brows and glared. Continuing in Produese, a hint of disgust in the tone of his voice, “Bona, my friend, I am not leaving this conference without an agreement. In fact I am not budging one single inch from where I stand now unless we begin to get somewhere. Where do you want to go with this?”

Bonadeo stood confused at the reaction his fit of rage had entailed, and raised an eyebrow. Then lowered it and decided to continue, "I'm going to get a return for my people, and I'll sell the territory to you for fifty billion Roçars. You can accept the offer and use your people efficiently, or pay it with your people as my army's target practice."

“Fifty billion!” Carlo scoffed, taking his right foot and gently kicking the sides of Bonadeo’s dress shoes in between his legs. “Huh? I would’ve figured that with an offer like that, those massive coglione of yours might be dangling so far right now, they might poke out from the bottom of your trousers, haha!”

Carlo moved past Bonadeo with a grunt and walked to the same sink and mirror he stood before earlier, beginning to wash his hands. He looked up from the faucet and into the mirror to talk to Bonadeo’s reflection, “Fifty billion… that’s more than double the entire economy of the region! Not going to happen.” He smirked as he glared at the Prime Minister with his raised eyebrows. He shut the water off and snapped his wrists making a single forceful shake with his hands to lightly dry them. Turning around he extended his moist right hand out to Bonadeo, some soap suds visible in between his fingers.

Raising an eyebrow of his own he said firmly, but a tangible hint of excitement hidden within, “Twenty five, not a cent more. To be paid off over the next two decades.”

Bonadeo breathed loudly from his nose. "Forty billion, and we'll give you the next two decades. And we'll help you fund some infrastructure projects."

Carlo feigned pulling his hand away from the deal making gesture he had been extending. “I’ve seen the Produese shoddy workmanship, you can keep those crumbling buildings in Burlon. Thirty billion and we can have a deal, someone with more legislative skills than you can write up the specifics on the matters of customs and citizenship in the region for the interim.” He held his sloppy, wet hand out in front him, slowly bringing it back to his side as an incentive for Bonadeo to jump to agree. He cocked his head, sneering at the Prime Minister while he let his offer linger.

Holding back the urge to roll his eyes at Carlo's snarky comment, Bonadeo took a long stare at Carlo's hand out in front of him. He adjusted his head to face the king and firmly gripped his hand, "We'll accept that, your majesty".

Carlo, his eyes interlocked with Bonadeo’s, returned the favor, squeezing his hand and unrelenting on the hold. A wide smirk peered out from under his graying mustache while he mused, “Boy, do I love hearing you call me that.”

[Meronnia]

The First Deputy sat at the table, the seats of both of his guests empty. Powerless to directly intervene in the off-the-books discussion ongoing down the hall, he simply had to hope he had positioned the two men and their thoughts to collide in the right way. At the very least Sardou didn’t have to wait to find out, as his agent was regularly updating him on the conversation picked up by the concealed devices in the bathroom. Apparently, they had done it.

As the men filed back into the negotiating room Sardou gave his classic smile. “Gentlemen, I hope a moment of relief and reflection has been enough to cool tempers? Shall we charge once more into the question of Subparannia?”

Carlo was clutching his lapels as he sauntered in sneering, Bonadeo shuffling in behind. He met eyes with his staff who were less informed on the deal brokered in the bathroom than the conference host was. The gleeful look on his face and confident gait were convincing enough that something favorable had transpired. If not that, the monarch may have just wrapped up a sizable bowel movement. He dragged his chair out from under the table as he boisterously exclaimed, “Perhaps we should pick our words better, Signore Deputy. Charging into Subparrania has caused nothing but pain in the past, after all , between the Olympic War, genocides that may or may not have been one, this meeting. We can, however, discuss how we can go about finishing our talks.”

"I agree", Bonadeo said from behind. " It's best for all of us to proceed with a peaceful and agreeable decision discussing Subparrania."

Sardou simply smiled and nodded. “By all means then, let us arrive at an agreeable compromise, and then let us all return to our families and nations. Who will take the floor?”

"We've decided on a good exchange price for the territory of thirty billion, to be paid over the course of the next two decades. Hopefully we can sort specifics as we continue this meeting, but I hope that the main mountain that necessitated climbing during this conference has been scaled", the Prime Minister said.

Sardou’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, his face betraying none of his foreknowledge. He tactfully made no comment as to the where and when of such an agreement being made, instead he simply turned to face the Parthonopian King for some sort of confirmation.

"I hope what I just stated corresponds with what the king and I have agreed upon", Bonadeo continued.

Carlo sighed, “As much as I have enjoyed this dog of a time with you two, it does seem as if old Bona and I have come to an agreement. We shook on thirty billion, over the course of the next two decades,” he gestured with his head towards Bonadeo, “as my esteemed colleague has mentioned. We’ve saved the more tedious details for now, but I’m sure we can breeze past that. After all, there is a reason we all travel with a throng of bureaucrats.”

Sardou tapped his hand on the table, giving no pause to the discussion. “Then we have terms.” A staffer filtered out of the background with a bottle, and the three men were poured a glass of wine. The First Deputy raised his to his counterparts; before long the final clause would be typed up and printed for them to sign. “It has been a pleasure to host you, Prime Minister, Majesty. I hope to not do it again.”

After raising his glass the Prime Minister smelled the wine, wasn't fine Galician Arra de Viera red wine, but it was serviceable, he thought to himself and sipped the glass. "As to you First Deputy, and Obrigado for hosting our administrations. You know you're welcome in Burlon anytime."

Carlo joined the toast and slugged the whole glass down in one go. Forcefully placing the glass down he let out a refreshed, “Ahh.” He clapped twice and stood from his seat, “Thank you gentlemen, and I use the term loosely. I must say I’ve had enough of all the cock measuring now and do believe it is time we test the durability of it all. I do pray that I won’t have the opportunity to do this again, as fun as it was. Let us sign off on it all and get on our way, before we begin second guessing our decisions, haha!”

Bonadeo let out a quiet sigh and put his hand on his face at Carlo's crude analogy. Afterwards Bonadeo spoke his agreement, "Yes, let's proceed and have this transition documented and officialized".

[Parthonopia]

Flight to Ancona
17th of January, 2020

Vast pastures of flatland, speckled with towns strewn about, streamed past below. The simple day to day comings and goings of the average person silently hummed on while Carlo gazed upon from his window in the sky. They were all so blissfully unaware of how their average day and life was so narrowly saved today. His chair reclined as far back as it would go, he settled fully into it while blowing out a cloud of smoke. He twiddled his cigar in his hand while he stared off, relaxing in his seat with one hand on his stomach while he smugly grinned to himself, proud of his accomplishments today. He glanced off out the window once more, catching a glimpse of the reflective glare of the sunlight bouncing off the water of the Aniene. He could feel the air change as he passed from Meronian airspace and over the pastural plains of northern Parthonopia. The cities of Cisparrania majestically floated by below him, the first he had seen of Tiapolo in person for many years, albeit from a distance. He would remember the image of it now, as he held the vision for so long of his time there many, many years prior. He quietly thought, gazing down, mentally assuring himself that he would return to Tiapolo one day. He then reflected some more, accepting that he may have to visit Senone again in the future, perhaps. He shuttered and shrugged it off, he would burn that bridge when he got there.

"At least it wasn't Burlon," Carlo griped aloud. With a deep sigh he tapped his cigar on the rim of an ashtray next to him, before turning his body to lock eyes with his aide Hugo Baldassaro. The man was on the phone, as he had been since they had returned to Boulanger Airport and departed the dreadful conference he had just sat through. Carlo was unsure who was on the other end of the line as he had been drowning out Hugo's voice and the slew of messages, statistics, and information he had been relaying. The king decided to tune back in, if only for a moment, not surprised to find Hugo was still rattling off, addressing Carlo, in fact, at that moment.

"As I was saying, Signore Damiani is not happy, your majesty. He's going over the numbers.."

Carlo cut him off, "And the numbers say what, exactly?"

"We cannot afford it, the money isn't there," Hugo reiterated apprehensively, as he had been doing for near half an hour.

"We aren't to pay when we land, what is the fuss for?"

"We can't afford it now, the money won't magically appear by December. Adelardo is already stretched thin dealing with this recession," Hugo was attempting to get as much in as possible before he was inevitably interrupted once again. That was as far as he could get, without insulting the King and allowing him to speak.

"Falcone can print some more, that's enough of this, I do not want to hear any more of your pessimism. Today was a big day, boy, a big day. You will see in time that the money does not matter, Hugo. It is Parthonopia's time in the light, you know. Destiny plows forward; we won a major victory today, on several fronts. The biggest victory is that we bought ourselves something much significantly more valuable than money; time. The chump change to be gathered to throw at that Porduzi pissant will be nothing, there is a lot that can happen in a year."

Hugo sighed, certain that Carlo was immovable, as he had learned this the hard way over the many years he had worked with the man. He decided to recline back into his chair as well, letting silence overtake the room. It was a short flight and nothing more could be said that had not been already. After a brief time of mutual silence, Carlo content with himself, he jostled in his seat, leaning over the aisle to face Hugo.

"Ring my butcher for me, will you, I guess it is time to bring him up to date."

"Yes of course," Hugo shuffled around, procuring the phone from his inner jacket pocket and dialing it. Leaning over to hand it to Carlo, the king snatched it out of his hand without a word and placed it to his ear.

"Yes. Hello Bart. I'm sorry, my friend, today is not the day. You may take a break, I will be in Ancona within an hour, we can catch up better then. Yes. I really am sorry, but no frets, there is always the future."

---

January 17, 2020

International News
Article by
Pepi Panforte

King Carlo Returns

Senone Conference Concluded,

Porduzi PM Cedes Subparrania

Meronia Backs Off

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"A tremendous success, [Bonadeo] is a testament to the devolution of Porduzi politicians but held up as well as a man of that level of will could muster. The First deputy, on the other hand, is one who truly has a role in the undetermined fate of Lira..." - King Carlo, upon arrival at Ancona Premier Airport, asked about his thoughts on the Senone Conference and his counterparts in it.

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King Carlo at Boulanger Airport, before departing Senone.

A universal sigh of relief was enjoyed today across Lira and even more clearly here in Orthuria after news of the conclusion of the Senone Conference was announced. King Carlo returned from the Meronnian capital late this afternoon after a day spent there in a summit alongside the Meronnian First Deputy Maximilien Sardou and Prime Minister Ricardo Bonadeo of Produzland. While this was not King Carlo's first international conference with foreign heads of state, it is significant as it marked his first diplomatic mission abroad as the representative and head of state of a united Parthonopia. The Senone Conference even more significantly marks a brief moment in history where the nations of Parthonopia, Meronnia, and Produzland have come together to reach an agreement. Albeit a compromise, King Carlo returns home with some sizeable gains, both politically and physically.

A series of topics are said to have been discussed and ultimately resolved; including, but not limited to, issues such as the illegal occupation of Subparrania by the Porduzi, discriminatory arrests of Parthonopian nationals in Cabeca, and the aftermath of the crash of AP Flight 818. King Carlo addressed reporters upon his return to Ancona, laying out a brief summary of the conference he took part in today. The main takeaway for now, he stressed, was that crisis in Lira had been averted in the short term. He followed up by emphasizing that the peace may hold if agreements and compromises like the one brokered today become more frequently sought after. The King condemned any sabre rattling by either the Porduzi or Meronnian governments, insisting that Parthonopia, and himself for that matter, can only engage nations internationally in the same manner that we have been engaged. An amicable end to the Senone Conference ensures that tides of war that seemed looming just a week ago are averted for now.

According to Castello d'Cormor staff informed on the discussions that took place, it appears that during the hearings the Porduzi government made several concessions, the most of all involved nations. Both of the questionable territorial claims that haunt the dysfunctional Burlon government were placed in the crossfires. That of the illegal occupation of Parthonopian ethnic Subparrania, which the Kingdom has claims of its own on, as well as the surging independence movement in the autonomy seeking region of Cabeca. Produzland Prime Minister Ricardo Bonadeo, whom King Carlo described as an awkward speaker and even more awkward deal broker, conceded to agree to a referendum in Cabeca for which the people of the aspiring nation may vote to determine if their goal is fulfilled or if they are continued to be under direct rule from the Burlon regime. Even more importantly, and closer to home, an agreement was met, in King Carlo's favor, over Subparrania.

The historically Parthonopian owned and inhabited region is also the subject and primary territory that the heinous genocide during the Olympic War, the Porduzinate, were committed. Subparrania has been under occupation by Porduzi armed forces since the signing of the now defunct Treaty of Oliviera. Today King Carlo and PM Bonadeo found a mutually agreeable compromise to the current position; a deal in which the territory will be sold to the Kingdom's government for a total of $30 Billion Rocars over the course of the next two decades. The logistics of this peaceful territorial change of hands include a customs free zone and special economic privileges to relieve any problems that may occur from the change of currency. Any Porduzi citizens that remain and wish to become Parthonopian citizens are free to do so, with care taken to make any process expedient and light. Porduzi nationals that do not wish to remain and live under Parthonopian law will be provided funds and safe passage out of the nation. The first official payment of the sum is to occur on December 15th, 2020.

Other, less agreeable compromises were forced to be met to reach successes such as the gain of Subparrania and the international recognition of King Carlo and the Kingdom of Parthonopia. As part of an exchange for the release of the wrongfully and falsely accused 100 Parthonopian nationals, kidnapped in response to protests in December 2019 for the independence of Cabeca, the notoriously criminal former Porduzi Ambassador to Parthonopia, Alexandre Gervásio da Sapateiro, is to be handed over to Porduzi officials. While the release of the 100 Parthonopian citizens comes as a tremendous relief to the Kingdom, and especially so to their family, it is disheartening that the pedophile Sapateiro may potentially return to the streets once home in Burlon. Officials from King Carlo's inner circle have made it clear that they hope the Porduzi government may show some good faith and continue Sapateiro's sentence in Produzland. The Parthonopian high court made sure to state that the sentence of Sapateiro's guilty findings is not commuted in Parthonopia and that he legally remains guilty, regardless of if he remains imprisoned in Produzland.

AP Flight 818, which met a tragic end in a field near Campobasso earlier this month, the spark leading to the series of ultimatums issued by the parties involved in the Senone Conference, was also finally settled. Parthonopian sovereignty has been maintained and there will be no international investigational witch hunt into the details of the flight's accidental crash landing. Parthonopian authorities will, however, hand over the black box recovered from the crash and in their possession to Porduzi officials in a show of good will and to clear the slanderous allegations that the tragedy was some how orchestrated by the Kingdom.

King Carlo, who walked away from this meeting even more solidified in his position on the continent, made mention to his approval of the outcome today but to remain vigilant against what he described as, "Dreadfully vacillating and wily characters whom only ever serve their own best interests."

While many interests of Parthonopia were met today, King Carlo warned that they were only done through great effort of his own and the embedded truth that appeasing him, over war, was in the best interest of Produzland today. Further, he insisted that, despite partaking in talks with the First Deputy Maximilien Sardou, Parthonopian and Meronnian relations are still on a shaky footing. King Carlo portrayed First Deputy Sardou as a skilled politician and potential force against Parthonopian interests while navigating the current situation in Lira and further abroad. King Carlo reiterated, consistently throughout any public remarks on the conference, that while vigilance is key, today peace had won out.

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