Aedra Capitolia. The wonders of the capital city of Aedmeria were plentiful, stretching from the marvellous theatres that dotted the urban landscape to the parks, recreational centres, shopping districts, and other leisure activities that had thoroughly transformed the city from the previous centuries. The great capital of the Aterni Empire, from where the ancient emperors and empresses of old led the Imperial government as their troops marched thousands of kilometres away into cities of subjugated peoples-turned-provinces, had gone through an evolution not unlike other cities in the Dominion, with the advent of important technological advances that radically modified the very fabric of day-to-day life. And yet, it also experienced a unique evolution of its own; the great façades of the monuments that stand as an eternal testimony of the accomplishments of the Aterni Empire and the subsequent Imperial Aedmeri Union —the Imperial Palace of old, with its towering columns and marble floors, or the Magister’s Palace, where less-worthy audiences were held by the monarchs of the time— remained ever placated in the history of the city, but surrounded by the unmistakeable presence of a society that urged itself forward into the future with a ferocity and violence so great, very little could withstand their stampede. This was the Aedmeri way.
All too often, this had spelled doom for the peoples that advocated for this progression. The Aedmeri were not unscathed by this danger; the fervent desire to replace the obsolete structure of the monarchy, impatient in their march forward towards a more equal society, led to the coup d’état of 1901, bringing a violent end to the Pax Eothasi on the continent and a brutal end to an otherwise peaceful Unió Imperion.
But the establishment of the republic was not to be. The treacherous military leaders of the coup, dedicated and documented fascists that had seeped through the ranks of the Imperial military until occupying places of power, had no intention of providing the political liberties that had been lacking in the Imperial Union. Instead, their paternalistic nature led them to believe that they knew best, and that only they could push the Aedmeri forward. Thankfully for them all, the Aedmeri revolts bore their fruits sooner rather than later; the heroic actions of the leader Priscilla Poriér led to what is known today as the Egalitarian Revolution, reshaping the foundations of Aedmeri society and government to more adequately fit the prestige of their people. From the ashes of this revolution arose the Popular Constitution of 1913, and with it, the rudimentary form of the Aedmeri Dominion itself.
The country had undoubtedly continued evolving since then —after all, a full century and then some had passed—. Now, the future of the country lied in the hands of the Aedmeri people themselves, operating the National Citadel as a beacon of great pride for the Dominion. And yet, despite this, a figurehead was still needed, a structure to guide the Aedmeri forward in the paths the Gods desired. Sometimes, when Cornelia thought too much on the fact that she formed an integral part of that structure and that the lives of hundreds of millions of her Aedmeri compatriots were in her hands, she began to feel somewhat dizzy. It was never a thought that lingered for long.
Cornelia looked through the immense glass window overlooking the Plaza Imperion, her arms crossed at the level of her chest and her mind deeply considering alternatives. The Secret Intelligence Service had just provided a report that was most alarming; the Shuraya Tower slave market, one of the most notorious slave markets in the world, had reportedly included Aedmeri citizens —captured by slavers during their habitual raids of cities all over the globe— in their catalogue. This was a desperate situation for the Aedmeri Dominion; the Shuraya slave market had already been extensively condemned by the Imperial government many moons before, but the new development was of particular humiliation to the Dominion.
The possible methods to react were rather limited, much to the Aedarch’s dismay. The Shuraya slave market should most certainly be closed, forcibly or otherwise, by the Aedmeri military. Cornelia was certain that this would be the inclination of the National Citadel, who was quite vocal in their emotional defence of Aedmeri values and customs and would view this as a direct act of violence against the Aedmeri people. But the feat would not be so simple; the slave market —and, what’s worse, its slavers— were under the direct protection of the Grand City of Shuraya, which meant an official declaration of war against another sovereign state over this matter. And still, the National Citadel would vote in favour; this was not, however, how the Dominion operated. It was clear that this situation would require a deft touch; Cornelia was not fond of the many dozens of subsequent meetings this would cause.
As she continued to glare out the window, watching as dozens of Aedmeri strolled through the plaza and nearby streets, oblivious to the inner workings of the Palace and the thousands of minor administrative tasks being fulfilled to ensure their organised daily lives, the recognisable thump of a knock at her door tumbled into the office. She turned slowly, careful not to latch the edges of her white stola —adorned with black and gold embroideries on the seams and with the Imperial coat of arms, a circular laurel wreath accompanied by a cog which held in its interior a hammer, representing the working peoples of the Dominion, and a torch, representing a singular brotherhood and unity between all Aedmeri peoples, faintly sewn onto the drapes which fell from her left arm— on the protruding marble edges of the base of the window. Falling into her certain, confident self, she merely uttered the word “enter”.
The doors opened to show Avilius Viraló, a young man of some roughly twenty-five years of age. His black hair, buzzcut short on the sides and more populated on the roof of his head, donned white highlights on the tips, immediately drawing the attention it was due. He was dressed in a black and yellow uniform, with a splash of burgundy red on his shoulder pads to indicate his position within the Palace: he was service staff, specifically of the equerry department, as denoted by the small emblem sewn atop the pads, and a high ranking one at that, as revealed by the cloth fringe that hung from the pad over the edges of his shoulders. He pushed the door open wide, then stood at perfect attention in the doorway facing the Aedarch of the Aedmeri Dominion.
“Mea leodiensis,” he said, bowing his torso slightly with his right fist pressed against his heart, as was the standard greeting when speaking with higher-ranking members of government. Cornelia returned the greeting, except with an open palm pressed against her heart, in contrast. Without further pause, Avilius continued.
“The Honourable Praetor Clara Ludwig of External Affairs has arrived at the Palace for her audience, ma’am. Shall we proceed to the chambers?” With a mere nod and no verbal response, Cornelia scanned the office quickly to ensure that she left nothing behind, then walked through the doorway with Avilius and down the long hall that led from the personal study of the Aedarch to one of the many chambers that were distributed throughout the entirety of the Imperial Palace.
The hall was adorned with long, red drapes, each marked with a golden silhouette of the Imperial seal, that hung from the ceiling beside the lofty columns decorated with reliefs of notable moments of Aedmeri history. The floor —an impeccable calacatta white marble with nary a hint of its age, despite the Palace accumulating nearly six hundred years of hard-worked experience— was covered with a red and golden carpet, leading the way through the centre of the hall down to wing of chambers of the palace. As she arrived at the particular room —the Rhoam Chambers, named so after the Aterni emperor who began conquests in the early 15th Century that would eventually lead to the Absolute Conquest, when the entirety of the continent of Eothasia was placed under the control of a single State—, she saw that a single bottle of expensive produce of the famously delicious vineyards of the State of Evras, far to the east, in the Province of Venza. The wines had been a delicacy for the imperial families of the Aterni Empire for generations; at the very least since the final expulsion of the Miverkians from the territory for Venza in 1438. Cornelia felt truly honoured to follow in the lavish footsteps of the rich historical nature of the Aterni Empire, although she was also consoled to know that, since the age of Emperor Rhoam, the wine had become a delicacy not just of the high-ranking members of the State, but also of all Aedmeri people.
Just moments after her arrival, mere seconds after the first droplets of the wonderfully selected wine from Evras emerged from her sizeable cage cup and sat upon her lips, the doors opened yet again. Through them walked Clara Ludwig, Praetor of the Praesidium since the last elections just a year and a half before. Dressed in an elegant blazer and a red dress shirt beneath, she walked in commanding the respect and reverence that a position such as hers demanded. She was a figure that Cornelia herself very much admired; she was confident, sure of herself at all times, and never missed a step. She was, by far, one of the most notable members of the Praesidium and a close confidant of the Aedarch herself. There was no question in Cornelia’s mind for the future of Aedmeria. In her eyes, Clara Ludwig should settle for nothing less than the position of Destinata ad Aedranus: Crown Princess of the Aedmeri and Primary Heir of the position of Aedarch. Undoubtedly, Clara Ludwig herself was well aware of her ambitions. Whether or not she would live up to the task in the eyes of the Aedmeri and their Dominion was yet to be seen.
Behind Clara Ludwig walked in another man, dressed similarly to the Praetor. He sported an intensely white, pristine dress shirt beneath a calm, navy blue blazer and dress pants. A small navy blue tie with yellow diagonal stripes spiralling down the front adorned his chest, alongside a small white handkerchief whose tip flowed out of the blazer’s chest pocket and laid itself gracefully over the edge. His hair, a constant light brown with no blotches that could indicate an eccentric character, was clean and formal, combed to a side in a uniform fashion that wasn’t entirely popular in their day and age, but was a suitable formal wear. Cornelia looked at him briefly, swearing on her mother’s grave that she recognised the man’s face —and position; he was an ambassador, undoubtedly, or at the very least an esteemed member of the Diplomatic Corps— but could not recall his name.
No matter, she told herself, I’m sure they’ll not wait long to introduce themselves.
“Mea leodiensis, Clara said, leading both herself and the man behind her to engage the Aedarch in the habitual greeting, “I bring before you the Honourable Decus Terion, selected ambassador of the Diplomatic Cooperation Initiative to represent the Dominion at the Novan Exemplarstate, for which he shall be leaving tomorrow at dawn.”
“Allow me to say, ma’am,” Decus began, a genuine if slightly brown-nosed smile on his face, “that it is truly an honour to meet one as esteemed and glorious as yourself. Your many years of reign at the head of the Dominion, with record validation from the National Citadel, most certainly prove your importance to the history of the Aedmeri people for the coming years.”
“Please,” Cornelia replied, skilfully concealing a wide-eyed expression to what was the umpteenth excessive greeting someone had given her across her more than ten years of reign, “the honour is all mine, Ambassador.”
Cornelia tried to peer into the farthest depths of the abyss of her mind, seeking to extract any valuable information of the ambassador that she could. She remembered that she’d read an extensive portfolio of the activities and plentiful experience the ambassador had collected over years at service with the Diplomatic Corps of the State Ministry of External Affairs. Slowly, but without doubt, the information began to flow back into her mind in titbits. First, he’d been an attorney with a law firm —Gods know which one— in the City of Isa, one of the most populated and important cities in Venza. He signed on with the External Affairs Ministry in the last decade and had become an important member of the treaty negotiation teams of the Diplomatic Corps at various junctures, including that of the Most Serene Republic of Montevento and the People’s Republic of Zhouran. His promotion to ambassador was signed into effect just the previous month, with the onset of the improving relations between the Novan Exemplarstate and the Aedmeri Dominion, at specific request of Praetor Ludwig. Surely, if the praetor deposited in him her confidence and trust with the dealings of such a new and important treaty as the one with the Exemplarstate, Cornelia would have no reason to doubt his abilities.
With the pleasantries expended, Cornelia moved swiftly to her designated chair at the head of the long oval table in the chambers. She took her seat quickly, then observed the intricacies of the surface and decorations of the table whilst Clara and Decus reorganised themselves to address each other more comfortably. The wood was a marvellous oak, masterfully carved into a comfortable and delicate shape. Cornelia brushed her hands against the surface, feeling the soft crevices with the tips of her fingers. The mere knowledge that it was oak reminded her of her time as a Civil Administrator in Cyrelidon, a city far to the east in the Province of Vyshia, where the thin layers of southern taiga offered a unique variant of oak to that present in the rest of the continent.
The praetor and the ambassador sat at the table and began their debate, drawing inspiration from the dozens of individual draft policies placed on the table for their study. Cornelia took quiet sips of the expensive wine as the two discussed the primary positions of the Dominion on some of the more important elements that needed to be established in the future treaties with the Exemplarstate. They spoke first of the matter of immigration, with the easing of restrictions to travel and the acquisition of citizenship on behalf of both Novan and Aedmeri citizens. They then dabbled on the topic of extradition, which would require lengthy negotiations with the Novans to ensure that both their and Aedmeri policies run in alignment. Even then, the discussion took longer than most; the treaty with the Novans —nicknamed the “Concordat” for ease in speaking— was unique. Never before had the Aedmeri Dominion entered a bilateral agreement so extensive and dense, and various policies were being modified to better fit these new circumstances.
The rudimentary first clauses of extradition were agreed upon, and they moved on to the matter of economic policy between the two countries. This was somewhat easier, given the relative compatibility of the economic structures of both the Novan Exemplarstate and the Aedmeri Dominion. The general agreement between the three of them was that they should be treated as though they were a socialist ally, and thus, approve various laxing policies with regards to commerce. This permitted them to swiftly handle the topic and finally sum up the first three sections of the agreement inside of two hours. The second half of the document, regarding defence and research, moved even more briskly, ending in just one more hour. The end product was a remarkable final draft of the various policies that the Aedmeri government would present to the Novans for the Concordat.
After another hour securing consensus in other areas —the manner in which they would be invited to Aedra Capitolia, how the negotiations would go and the general schedule of the events—, the meeting was finally adjourned. It had been an interesting few hours, though this was only a foundation; the agreement would have to be taken to the Council for official approval.
“Mea leodiensis,” Decus said as he stood from his seat and bowed to the Aedarch, “I simply wished to thank both you and matrona Ludwig once more for the opportunity to represent my Dominion abroad. I am certain that the partnership that blossoms from this initiative shall be a powerful bond that stands the test of time.”
“I share your optimism and confidence, Ambassador,” Cornelia said, standing from her chair herself and returning the gesture, keeping the falling drapes close to her chest. Without desiring to add to the mounting pressure the ambassador surely felt already, she did decide to give a quick warning.
“Remember, Ambassador, that there are many enemies in the world that would do us harm. This partnership may define the future of the Aedmeri Dominion.”
“You needn’t worry, matrona. I shan’t disappoint the Aedmeri.”
“I certainly hope not,” she responded, “for the future of our entire people is at stake.”
All too often, this had spelled doom for the peoples that advocated for this progression. The Aedmeri were not unscathed by this danger; the fervent desire to replace the obsolete structure of the monarchy, impatient in their march forward towards a more equal society, led to the coup d’état of 1901, bringing a violent end to the Pax Eothasi on the continent and a brutal end to an otherwise peaceful Unió Imperion.
But the establishment of the republic was not to be. The treacherous military leaders of the coup, dedicated and documented fascists that had seeped through the ranks of the Imperial military until occupying places of power, had no intention of providing the political liberties that had been lacking in the Imperial Union. Instead, their paternalistic nature led them to believe that they knew best, and that only they could push the Aedmeri forward. Thankfully for them all, the Aedmeri revolts bore their fruits sooner rather than later; the heroic actions of the leader Priscilla Poriér led to what is known today as the Egalitarian Revolution, reshaping the foundations of Aedmeri society and government to more adequately fit the prestige of their people. From the ashes of this revolution arose the Popular Constitution of 1913, and with it, the rudimentary form of the Aedmeri Dominion itself.
The country had undoubtedly continued evolving since then —after all, a full century and then some had passed—. Now, the future of the country lied in the hands of the Aedmeri people themselves, operating the National Citadel as a beacon of great pride for the Dominion. And yet, despite this, a figurehead was still needed, a structure to guide the Aedmeri forward in the paths the Gods desired. Sometimes, when Cornelia thought too much on the fact that she formed an integral part of that structure and that the lives of hundreds of millions of her Aedmeri compatriots were in her hands, she began to feel somewhat dizzy. It was never a thought that lingered for long.
Cornelia looked through the immense glass window overlooking the Plaza Imperion, her arms crossed at the level of her chest and her mind deeply considering alternatives. The Secret Intelligence Service had just provided a report that was most alarming; the Shuraya Tower slave market, one of the most notorious slave markets in the world, had reportedly included Aedmeri citizens —captured by slavers during their habitual raids of cities all over the globe— in their catalogue. This was a desperate situation for the Aedmeri Dominion; the Shuraya slave market had already been extensively condemned by the Imperial government many moons before, but the new development was of particular humiliation to the Dominion.
The possible methods to react were rather limited, much to the Aedarch’s dismay. The Shuraya slave market should most certainly be closed, forcibly or otherwise, by the Aedmeri military. Cornelia was certain that this would be the inclination of the National Citadel, who was quite vocal in their emotional defence of Aedmeri values and customs and would view this as a direct act of violence against the Aedmeri people. But the feat would not be so simple; the slave market —and, what’s worse, its slavers— were under the direct protection of the Grand City of Shuraya, which meant an official declaration of war against another sovereign state over this matter. And still, the National Citadel would vote in favour; this was not, however, how the Dominion operated. It was clear that this situation would require a deft touch; Cornelia was not fond of the many dozens of subsequent meetings this would cause.
As she continued to glare out the window, watching as dozens of Aedmeri strolled through the plaza and nearby streets, oblivious to the inner workings of the Palace and the thousands of minor administrative tasks being fulfilled to ensure their organised daily lives, the recognisable thump of a knock at her door tumbled into the office. She turned slowly, careful not to latch the edges of her white stola —adorned with black and gold embroideries on the seams and with the Imperial coat of arms, a circular laurel wreath accompanied by a cog which held in its interior a hammer, representing the working peoples of the Dominion, and a torch, representing a singular brotherhood and unity between all Aedmeri peoples, faintly sewn onto the drapes which fell from her left arm— on the protruding marble edges of the base of the window. Falling into her certain, confident self, she merely uttered the word “enter”.
The doors opened to show Avilius Viraló, a young man of some roughly twenty-five years of age. His black hair, buzzcut short on the sides and more populated on the roof of his head, donned white highlights on the tips, immediately drawing the attention it was due. He was dressed in a black and yellow uniform, with a splash of burgundy red on his shoulder pads to indicate his position within the Palace: he was service staff, specifically of the equerry department, as denoted by the small emblem sewn atop the pads, and a high ranking one at that, as revealed by the cloth fringe that hung from the pad over the edges of his shoulders. He pushed the door open wide, then stood at perfect attention in the doorway facing the Aedarch of the Aedmeri Dominion.
“Mea leodiensis,” he said, bowing his torso slightly with his right fist pressed against his heart, as was the standard greeting when speaking with higher-ranking members of government. Cornelia returned the greeting, except with an open palm pressed against her heart, in contrast. Without further pause, Avilius continued.
“The Honourable Praetor Clara Ludwig of External Affairs has arrived at the Palace for her audience, ma’am. Shall we proceed to the chambers?” With a mere nod and no verbal response, Cornelia scanned the office quickly to ensure that she left nothing behind, then walked through the doorway with Avilius and down the long hall that led from the personal study of the Aedarch to one of the many chambers that were distributed throughout the entirety of the Imperial Palace.
The hall was adorned with long, red drapes, each marked with a golden silhouette of the Imperial seal, that hung from the ceiling beside the lofty columns decorated with reliefs of notable moments of Aedmeri history. The floor —an impeccable calacatta white marble with nary a hint of its age, despite the Palace accumulating nearly six hundred years of hard-worked experience— was covered with a red and golden carpet, leading the way through the centre of the hall down to wing of chambers of the palace. As she arrived at the particular room —the Rhoam Chambers, named so after the Aterni emperor who began conquests in the early 15th Century that would eventually lead to the Absolute Conquest, when the entirety of the continent of Eothasia was placed under the control of a single State—, she saw that a single bottle of expensive produce of the famously delicious vineyards of the State of Evras, far to the east, in the Province of Venza. The wines had been a delicacy for the imperial families of the Aterni Empire for generations; at the very least since the final expulsion of the Miverkians from the territory for Venza in 1438. Cornelia felt truly honoured to follow in the lavish footsteps of the rich historical nature of the Aterni Empire, although she was also consoled to know that, since the age of Emperor Rhoam, the wine had become a delicacy not just of the high-ranking members of the State, but also of all Aedmeri people.
Just moments after her arrival, mere seconds after the first droplets of the wonderfully selected wine from Evras emerged from her sizeable cage cup and sat upon her lips, the doors opened yet again. Through them walked Clara Ludwig, Praetor of the Praesidium since the last elections just a year and a half before. Dressed in an elegant blazer and a red dress shirt beneath, she walked in commanding the respect and reverence that a position such as hers demanded. She was a figure that Cornelia herself very much admired; she was confident, sure of herself at all times, and never missed a step. She was, by far, one of the most notable members of the Praesidium and a close confidant of the Aedarch herself. There was no question in Cornelia’s mind for the future of Aedmeria. In her eyes, Clara Ludwig should settle for nothing less than the position of Destinata ad Aedranus: Crown Princess of the Aedmeri and Primary Heir of the position of Aedarch. Undoubtedly, Clara Ludwig herself was well aware of her ambitions. Whether or not she would live up to the task in the eyes of the Aedmeri and their Dominion was yet to be seen.
Behind Clara Ludwig walked in another man, dressed similarly to the Praetor. He sported an intensely white, pristine dress shirt beneath a calm, navy blue blazer and dress pants. A small navy blue tie with yellow diagonal stripes spiralling down the front adorned his chest, alongside a small white handkerchief whose tip flowed out of the blazer’s chest pocket and laid itself gracefully over the edge. His hair, a constant light brown with no blotches that could indicate an eccentric character, was clean and formal, combed to a side in a uniform fashion that wasn’t entirely popular in their day and age, but was a suitable formal wear. Cornelia looked at him briefly, swearing on her mother’s grave that she recognised the man’s face —and position; he was an ambassador, undoubtedly, or at the very least an esteemed member of the Diplomatic Corps— but could not recall his name.
No matter, she told herself, I’m sure they’ll not wait long to introduce themselves.
“Mea leodiensis, Clara said, leading both herself and the man behind her to engage the Aedarch in the habitual greeting, “I bring before you the Honourable Decus Terion, selected ambassador of the Diplomatic Cooperation Initiative to represent the Dominion at the Novan Exemplarstate, for which he shall be leaving tomorrow at dawn.”
“Allow me to say, ma’am,” Decus began, a genuine if slightly brown-nosed smile on his face, “that it is truly an honour to meet one as esteemed and glorious as yourself. Your many years of reign at the head of the Dominion, with record validation from the National Citadel, most certainly prove your importance to the history of the Aedmeri people for the coming years.”
“Please,” Cornelia replied, skilfully concealing a wide-eyed expression to what was the umpteenth excessive greeting someone had given her across her more than ten years of reign, “the honour is all mine, Ambassador.”
Cornelia tried to peer into the farthest depths of the abyss of her mind, seeking to extract any valuable information of the ambassador that she could. She remembered that she’d read an extensive portfolio of the activities and plentiful experience the ambassador had collected over years at service with the Diplomatic Corps of the State Ministry of External Affairs. Slowly, but without doubt, the information began to flow back into her mind in titbits. First, he’d been an attorney with a law firm —Gods know which one— in the City of Isa, one of the most populated and important cities in Venza. He signed on with the External Affairs Ministry in the last decade and had become an important member of the treaty negotiation teams of the Diplomatic Corps at various junctures, including that of the Most Serene Republic of Montevento and the People’s Republic of Zhouran. His promotion to ambassador was signed into effect just the previous month, with the onset of the improving relations between the Novan Exemplarstate and the Aedmeri Dominion, at specific request of Praetor Ludwig. Surely, if the praetor deposited in him her confidence and trust with the dealings of such a new and important treaty as the one with the Exemplarstate, Cornelia would have no reason to doubt his abilities.
With the pleasantries expended, Cornelia moved swiftly to her designated chair at the head of the long oval table in the chambers. She took her seat quickly, then observed the intricacies of the surface and decorations of the table whilst Clara and Decus reorganised themselves to address each other more comfortably. The wood was a marvellous oak, masterfully carved into a comfortable and delicate shape. Cornelia brushed her hands against the surface, feeling the soft crevices with the tips of her fingers. The mere knowledge that it was oak reminded her of her time as a Civil Administrator in Cyrelidon, a city far to the east in the Province of Vyshia, where the thin layers of southern taiga offered a unique variant of oak to that present in the rest of the continent.
The praetor and the ambassador sat at the table and began their debate, drawing inspiration from the dozens of individual draft policies placed on the table for their study. Cornelia took quiet sips of the expensive wine as the two discussed the primary positions of the Dominion on some of the more important elements that needed to be established in the future treaties with the Exemplarstate. They spoke first of the matter of immigration, with the easing of restrictions to travel and the acquisition of citizenship on behalf of both Novan and Aedmeri citizens. They then dabbled on the topic of extradition, which would require lengthy negotiations with the Novans to ensure that both their and Aedmeri policies run in alignment. Even then, the discussion took longer than most; the treaty with the Novans —nicknamed the “Concordat” for ease in speaking— was unique. Never before had the Aedmeri Dominion entered a bilateral agreement so extensive and dense, and various policies were being modified to better fit these new circumstances.
The rudimentary first clauses of extradition were agreed upon, and they moved on to the matter of economic policy between the two countries. This was somewhat easier, given the relative compatibility of the economic structures of both the Novan Exemplarstate and the Aedmeri Dominion. The general agreement between the three of them was that they should be treated as though they were a socialist ally, and thus, approve various laxing policies with regards to commerce. This permitted them to swiftly handle the topic and finally sum up the first three sections of the agreement inside of two hours. The second half of the document, regarding defence and research, moved even more briskly, ending in just one more hour. The end product was a remarkable final draft of the various policies that the Aedmeri government would present to the Novans for the Concordat.
After another hour securing consensus in other areas —the manner in which they would be invited to Aedra Capitolia, how the negotiations would go and the general schedule of the events—, the meeting was finally adjourned. It had been an interesting few hours, though this was only a foundation; the agreement would have to be taken to the Council for official approval.
“Mea leodiensis,” Decus said as he stood from his seat and bowed to the Aedarch, “I simply wished to thank both you and matrona Ludwig once more for the opportunity to represent my Dominion abroad. I am certain that the partnership that blossoms from this initiative shall be a powerful bond that stands the test of time.”
“I share your optimism and confidence, Ambassador,” Cornelia said, standing from her chair herself and returning the gesture, keeping the falling drapes close to her chest. Without desiring to add to the mounting pressure the ambassador surely felt already, she did decide to give a quick warning.
“Remember, Ambassador, that there are many enemies in the world that would do us harm. This partnership may define the future of the Aedmeri Dominion.”
“You needn’t worry, matrona. I shan’t disappoint the Aedmeri.”
“I certainly hope not,” she responded, “for the future of our entire people is at stake.”