Remembering Better Days [Closed, IC]

The Grim Reaper

The Grim Reaper

TNPer
"Friends, countrymen. The world is changing, and the very nature of our culture is at stake. Imperium has never been stronger - we grow from strength to strength. However, the more we assert ourselves in a brave new world, the less we are prepared to assert ourselves in our old one. Reconciliation - a new Latin League - is the only direction left for Imperium, and one that Imperium will not accept."

Opening Statement of "Foundations of the New Pax Latina", by
Senator Aemilius Ephyrus Angelis of Korinthos,
to the Private Tribunal for Restoring Historical Perceptions of the Imperium
​

The 'Legationem'
The Outer District
Alba Longa, Imperium Augustum

Sitting upon a shallow hill, just on the outskirts of Old Alba Longa, the Legationem. The oldest hotel in the Imperium, it has been the exclusive purview of the August Senate and its chosen representatives for the past 300 years.

In the 1700s, the Legationem was handed over to the August Senate by the Estate government of Campania, ruled from Neapolis. Until that point, the building had been the fabulously exquisite home of the ambassador from Neapolis to Alba Longa, renovated almost unceaselessly as part of the cultural cold war between the two cities.

Today, the Legationem serves as an international embassy, of sorts, with its rooms and services charged directly to the August Senate, and a never-ending stream of politicians, advisors, and academics flowing in and out of its doors. Its name is a watchword for the dark underbelly of Imperial domestic politics, and for the glowing capstone of its international politics.

The August Senator Aemilius Ephyrus Angelis was a familiar face on the ground floor of that old establishment - although none of the staff would ever admit it. Hailing from one of the major breadbaskets of the Imperium, Aemilius was an up-and-coming senator from Korinthos. In the days of the Latin League, Korinthos had been the League's major connection to Alainn, in days when trade between Alainn and Alba Longa was inconsistent and mired in political red-tape. To the modern day, those the Korinthians choose to represent them have been supporters of internationalism, idealism, and multiculturalism. However, even for Korinth, Aemilius' conciliatory stance regarding the Imperium's neighbours - Alainn and Silly String - was considered unusual.

Generally speaking, whilst Aemilius enjoyed being important, he disliked being the center of attention. He demanded secrecy, even when entering through the front doors of the Legationem (as opposed to its more popular entry, leading to the basement valet parking). And, even more so, Aemilius disliked being unusual.

It was much easier for him to be around those who agreed with him, or who would be agreeing with him in future. It was for this reason he had summoned a hand-picked delegation from Silly String and Alainn, to shore up support for his growing domestic faction of pro-conciliation politicians.

At this moment, in fact, they were due to meet him. He had prepared one of the Legationem's many conference rooms for use, the Vetus Atrium. It was the large entry hall to the building after its second extension as an embassy, the largest of the less expensive rooms. The Vetus Atrium was magnificent - gold trimming on its beautiful red carpets, the colors of Neapolis and in the modern day, the elected senators. Its tables were modern - minimalist wood, with microphones that were not, for this occasion, plugged into anything, and power outlets for ample laptops and devices. The Vetus Atrium was not held to have as much historical or cultural significance as many of the other large, older halls of the Legationem, and so it was used as a general purpose hall for large functions that were either not worth the financial outlay, or worth avoiding the increased scutiny that comes with such an outlay.
 
The doors swung open suddenly, too polite to make a bang despite the force of their motion. Right behind them was the source of the push: a large, heavyset man with an overabundance of energy.

"Aemilius!" he boomed, striding into the conference room. "I'm glad I found you. If I had disrupted another trade negotiation in my search, I think your people would have kicked me out." He laughed at the expression that crossed the senator's face. "I could have asked for directions, but I find my way produces quicker results."

He gave the plush chairs a cursory glance, then settled into the closest one. He swiveled to face Aemilius again, leaning back in his seat as if he were going to put his feet up on the table. "Today it will just be me," he said after a moment's examination, finally speaking in a more conversational volume. "I flew out a few days ago, but the others are stuck on the island. They should be able to join us tomorrow."

A girl... a woman... a young woman entered the room as he was speaking. She seemed to fall right on the line between those two categories, into an awkward middle ground that introduced stammering and self-correction into any attempts to definitively classify her. Everything about her, in fact, was awkward. Her gait, though even and steady upon examination, nevertheless brought to mind images of scurrying mice. Her attire was professional and her hair immaculate, but they only conjured adjectives like "unkempt" and "disheveled". She had a firm grip on the item in her hand, which still seemed on the edge of falling to the ground. No individual detail could be criticized, and yet...

"Here's that folder you wanted, Wohehiv," she said, handing it to him, then moving to stand at not quite the right spot behind him.

Wohehiv flipped through the papers and nodded firmly. "Good. Did you bring the other thing I asked for?" A soft squeak and fading footsteps told him she had hurried off again, and he smiled wryly at the other man. "My assistant, Alamea. Green and untrained, but, well, you know how wealthy families are." He shrugged, the movement rippling across his shoulders. "What can you do?"
 
Aemilius quirked an eyebrow, finally settling into this man's stride.

It was an interesting dynamic. Both were heavyset. Both were fit. Both were energetic.

But, there was a subtle difference. Wohehiv's muscles moved in waves, fits, and starts of joviality. Aemilius' were subtle, mechanical, woven through repetition and care.

It was a bit awkward to have someone this animated bounding about the halls of the Legationem. Most of the regulars around were aged, or at the very least, exceedingly uptight. At the very least, he was somewhat notable - although, looking at him again, his tan would probably stick out enough in the sunlight.

Ah, he's asked a question. Rhetorical, off the cuff. Respond with something light. Or...just nod and smile. Moment's passed.

Damn. Still had slower wits about him than his city counterparts.

Just follow the script.

"Wohehiv, wonderful to see you! Have you been to see your room?" Aemilius rolled his shoulders back, going in for a handshake as he produced a manila folder.

"How was your flight? Not too bad, I trust. I've just been organizing an itinerary for us."

A man in a suit approached from the service door, pulling a bottle of red wine from behind his back and a pair of glasses.

"A d'Angelis Reserve Korinth. My family's vinyards, since the early days of the Imperium. We're not known for our production - most of our grapes are sold to a local vinyard, and we only retain enough for our personal cellars. But, I can assure you it places with the very finest of the Korinth reserves. This is, to borrow a phrase popular in my hometown, the wine they use to tint Caesar's glasses.

But, I bore you. How is life in Silly String?"
 
Wohehiv leapt to his feet to shake the senator's hand heartily, nodding with pleasure. "And what a room it is, my friend! It is clear you spared no expense - why, I think it might even rival the lowest tier of rooms at the Pukalani." His eyes misted over, remembering his too-brief time there many years prior. Each night had cost him a month's income, but it had been worth it. The food, the drinks, the private masseuse - all complimentary, of course. One wanted for nothing at the Pukalani.

Aemelius' voice brought him back to the present. "Oh, the flight was as it always is," he replied, flapping his hand dismissively. "I believe I spent more time waiting than I did in the air. But it is always so nice to see things from above. Gives one a new perspective on life!"

Wohehiv settled back into his chosen chair and interlaced his fingers, nodding his appreciation to the wine server. He lifted the glass and gave it an interested sniff before tasting it thoughtfully. "This is a lovely vintage," he said, appreciation shining in his eyes. "Robust, without being overbearing, and delicate, without being frail." He took another sip, holding it longer. "Cherry, pomegranate, and a hint of strawberry, with a smooth, oaky finish. Very nice."

Wohehiv seemed to ignore Aemelius' last question, as he opened his folder and leafed through the papers inside it. "Here we are," he said after a moment, pulling one out and presenting it with a flourish. "My accreditation as an official emissary of the String. A technicality, of course - most of the time it approves anything Nahuel puts in front of it - but mandatory nevertheless."
 
Aemelius tapped his fingers, looking over the accreditation momentarily. All in order, of course. Wohehiv was a wealthy man - had he paid to have his papers faked, Aemelius would have never noticed anyway. But it never hurt to look for the occasional mistake.

They say that in the eternal war between Alba Longa and Neapolis, a spy had been arrested entering Alba Longa for using papers that had been cut from the roll against the direction of writing, rather than with it. The frayed ends were caught easily when a guard, in the hot midday sun, took off his hide gloves to take the papers. When he had noticed the ends, he did not even spend time to read the meticulously printed forgery or investigate the ink.

It was one of the many parables taught to young nobles in Alba Longa. In Neapolis, predictably, the parable switched the two cities. One wonders how Silly String reminds the forgers of the future to take heed of those tiny mistakes.

In hindsight, it was rather odd that such importance was placed on a parable about forging papers. Wait, we're in a meeting.

Aemilius returned the papers to Wohehiv. "Immaculate, as is to be expected." The silent observer stepped forward, deftly placing a manila folder in front of Aemilius as he topped up both glasses. Aemilius leaned back slightly, leafing through his manila folder, before stopping for a moment, his thumb hanging on a page. He pulled a page out, closing his folder and returning it to the table. Placing the page in front of him, he looked at Wohehiv, ignoring it for the moment.

"I've heard of the Pukalani. I've always wanted to pay a visit, but it's a busy life lived in between the agricultural seasons and the Senate's sittings." Aemilius smiled. "It really is so hard organizing a trip to Silly String - between booking, security checks, and arranging the visas, it does take longer than the flight. It's terribly unfortunate for the both of us."

Aemilius gave Wohehiv a moment before clearing his throat and moving on to his page.

"Well, I assume you're up to speed with the inner workings of the August Senate. But. then again, I suppose no-one really is. I suppose I'll give you a quick run-down of the relevant facets.

The Senate has three Colleges - one for the hereditary nobility, one for the elected nobility, and one for the hierarchical nobility. The second would mainly be what would be consider as local MPs or government officials in most nations. The third is mainly clergy, academics, emergency services, and the military, as well as the public service. I am a member of the hereditary nobility - more specifically, the Rural Bench. My college is the highest of all three, known as the Electoral College. When Caesar passes away, it falls on our shoulders to elect his replacement from his immediate family and those of his relatives who sit in any of the Colleges.

Quite simply, I wish to discuss the matter of supporting an early election campaign with you. Whilst your financial backing would be appreciated, it is not really my concern at the moment.

My concern is the growing influence Silly String and Alainn could exert on the Electoral College. The growing power of the Imperium as a manufacturing and agricultural power is indisputable, but we are quickly coming to the limits of our trade network. Isolationism is not working particularly well for us.

There are multiple factions of varying power within the Imperium - but none that propose a real solution to the Imperium's dire straits."

Aemilius sipped some of his wine.

"We need a Caesar who can see the Imperium as more than borders. We need a Caesar who can see Silly String as more than a neighbour - but as an ally, and a friend which speaks and thinks like we do. I think that Silly String and Alainn, together, could exert as much pressure as all but the most organized of factions in the Imperium. With a bit of campaigning, we could match the oldest factions with a concerted effort at changing my people's stance on the silent backdoor meetings that govern my nation. They don't have a plan to rebuild the Imperium, and they don't have a plan that even purports to look at the Imperium as an ideal, and not a nation. The dreams of my ancestors, who called for independent cities with a single goal of societal upheaval, is sleeping, but not dead.

All I need is for Silly String to work with my chosen candidate, and do it publically. On what issues? That is for us to decide."
 
Wohehiv chuckled quietly at Aemilius' inspection, as if in response to the implication that his papers might be forged. It never ceased to amuse him how little non-citizens truly understood about SillyString's unique democracy, despite - or perhaps because of - how freely available that information was. But, he supposed, people suffering under the thumb of opaque governments could not truly fathom a nation without secrets.

On the other hand, information too freely available could itself be a form of opacity...

He shook himself subconsciously, breaking out of that train of thought to return his attention to the matter at hand.

"If we're being fair, dear Senator, it cannot be said that the delays are caused by my country. After all, as long as a traveler can pay their bills, what care we for ulterior motives?" He said it good-naturedly, a smile hovering just out of view, the remark teasing the sensibilities of both nations. He was pushing, he knew - but he wanted to see how Aemilius would respond. Touchy and defensive of his homeland? Wry, acknowledging its faults? Eager to add his own complaints? A little push could tell you so much about one's character.

He quirked an eyebrow when the senator cleared his throat and tried to redirect the conversation, but let the matter slide. He listened quietly as the man laid out the outline of his proposal, nursing his glass of wine. When Aemilius fell silent, he steepled his fingers and thought about his first question carefully.

"Let me be blunt, sir," he said, finally. "You talk of societal upheaval and early elections, in a system where elections occur only upon a death. Do you intend to dispose of your Emperor?"
 
Aemilius' eyes glazed over for a moment.

He had, like all young men and women of good repute, been trained extensively in the manners of court and cafes. But for the most part, not that many in Imperium were fortunate enough to receive the more...traditional lessons.

Conducting espionage, plotting sabotage, leading armies.

Aemilius was part of a new generation, which had not yet learned how the world worked. One which would take a backseat in the perpetual War that formed such a crucial part of the national myth of Imperium. He had not yet learned the stoic rationalism of his elders, ready to look Death in the face as part of the natural cycle of rebirth and eternity. The idea that one would attempt to assassinate Caesar was preposterous, surely.

It would be illegal, put one at risk of falling afoul of the August Senate and the royal family. There were unpopular senators, surely, but to kill Caesar was to kill Imperium. No, Aemilius wished to act within the law.

"No...no, not in the sense you mean, I think.

It would be too difficult. The Lictorial Service is at Caesar Augustus' beck and call - they would cripple any assassination attempt should the merest whiff of it appear within the Senate."

Aemilius noted what seemed to be a look of uncertainty, assuming that it was confusion at the foreign term 'Lictorial'.

"The Lictorial Service is the government's security and logistical service. Many nations would term them as part of the general public service, but here they operate independently as an armed service. They also provide general secretarial services to bodies of government, and individual Senators and members of the royal family - my accountant, lawyer, GP, are all on retain, and my Senate office receptionist a courtesy from the Lictorial Service, and all of them can tote an M20-A3 assault rifle like an extension of their own arm. The vast majority of senators, however, do prefer the independence of...managing a team of their own. Although it is a decent boon, now and again - the Lictorial Service is very, very good at navigating the bureaucracy. Much like a goat is good at navigating a small hedge maze.

But yes, I do retain a personal team outside the pay of the Lictorial Service. As far as I know, the Service is only aware that I happened to take a private taxicab into the city today, although they could easily assume I came here to the Legationem, should one of my peers be a bit less aware of the Service's predisposition to gossip and have brought one who saw me. It is my personal team who accompanied me - actually..."

Aemilius indicated towards the silent observer who had handed him the folder and served the wine.

"This is my nephew, Ioannes. I believe he'd take John - ah, yes, John is fine, if you can't get your tongue around Ioannes. A more modern name, his mother - my sister - lived in Neapolis. Came down to work on my farm after finishing high school and studying agricultural science on the side. 24 now, and he's got a nose good enough to taste Caesar's own wines. Not a bad shot, too - that far out, you need to be able to keep yourself safe from vandal and vermin alike.

Didn't bring his gun, though, the Legationem is pretty strict about that sort of thing, as are most institutions serving Senators."

Aemilius checked his folders for a moment.

"But no...I don't propose to...what you think I propose.

No.

What I propose to do is simple. With your assistance, we can indicate that Silly String wishes to support the personal endeavors of a heir to the throne. The Senate will either fall in line, or attempt to block such foreign involvement by a majority vote. If I can convince them to fall in line, it would be a strong mark in favour of that heir, given their support from Silly String.

From there, all that needs to be done is for the Senate to attempt to force Caesar to match the support from Silly String, financially and politically. Because it involves a royal heir, a foreign power, and a vote of the Senate, it becomes a clear-cut succession crisis if Caesar refuses to play along. Then, all I need to do is call upon the kind of people who could plan and manage a succession crisis - some of the Senate's heavy hitters.

When faced with the threat of execution at worst, or destroying Imperium and purging his government at best, Caesar will gladly accept a de facto regency."
 
"Fascinating," Wohehiv said thoughtfully, his eyes lighting up. "It is always interesting to hear about the subtle manipulations of power, even in a supposed autocracy. Sometime you really must tell me more about these intricacies." Distasteful as he found the structure of most governments, he was nevertheless an avid student of their inner workings.

Wresting himself back to the present, he continued, "So, you cannot kill your emperor, neither because of risk nor, by my judgment, a certain loyalty to the one who embodies your system. Instead, you propose to.. carefully separate him from his power, while leaving him the dignity - or is it disgrace? - of his title. It's a very neat plan, I'll give you that. Tidy." He smiled approvingly at that, disdain for messy, bloody, complicated conspiracies evident from his tone of voice.

While he was speaking, Alamea tripped quietly through the doors, clearly trying so hard not to disturb the two dignitaries. A wooden box was haphazardly cradled in her arms, and she took an aide's position near Wohehiv. Aside from a flicker of his eyes, he ignored her.

"I have some questions, naturally. First: What sort of personal endeavors are we talking about?" He left the question there, not wanting to influence Aemilius' reply with comments on SillyString's priorities.
 
Aemilius considered the question. Perhaps...of course.

The euphemism was unfamiliar to Wohehiv, perhaps.

"Well, that...depends.

The potential heir would, of course, have varying personal endeavours. There are multiple potential regents - five, in fact. Two daughters, and three sons. It is a simple task to select one whose personal endeavours align with those of your own."

Aemilius considered the conversation at hand, rolling it around his tongue. Generally speaking, in Imperium, such euphemistic conversation was considered an artform. This sort of stonewalling was common-place as part of the general give-and-take of social etiquette at the highest level, like apologizing for having no hot drinks on hand, or taking one's footwear off. Aemilius was not quite as competent at it as many of his compatriots, and he had the faintest idea that it was entirely counterproductive to continue on this line of thought.

"Generally speaking, the royal family has enough assets that...hobbies, and personal endeavours such as charitable work or moralistic endowments, can be considered large-scale investments. The royal family is particularly rich, even among the upper echelons of North Pacifican royalty and celebrity, and much of Imperium is particularly...not poor, but certainly...wealth efficient. Many of our charities expect to pay dividends to investors, in one way or another, and numerous royal endeavours of note are expected to give returns. This would be one of the more direct ways in which Silly String could profit from our domestic politics, the long-term political implications for trade and transit aside.

The question is broad, and the answers varied. We are a sovereign nation, after all, and one, if you'll excuse me for saying so, which perhaps has more land and space to work with than Silly String. A little more subtlty too - although has been established, your nation has its own advantages. I can, however, offer some suggestions.

It may be best for Silly String to attempt to invest in an heir interested in something you already have a foothold in, or direly need a foothold in. We could discuss your personal position, and that of your nation in more detail, perhaps - that seems to be the line of thought with the most potential. If it is not something that the royal family is not already interested in, I can assure you, at least one heir will be happy to develop such an interest given enough incentive. Although, I should point out that given the circumstances in Nierr and Ghistown, eco-friendliness is the order of the day. We're not terrible at it, which is surprising for a nation of our particular...loominess and bent...but it may be preferable for us to direct the world's attention away from our occasional mishap and slip-up."
 
"Aha!" Wohehiv said quietly, a tinge of excitement infecting his voice. "You have stumbled upon one of the few international issues which the String will take an interest in. Not for us are your wars, your peace, your space explorations... but environmental health, particularly in such a close neighbor? Yes, that would be the avenue to win national support... and perhaps national funding.

"I see two other areas of immediate interest, agriculture being the first. As you know, SillyString imports nearly everything, from food to furniture. The Imperium's space and arable land would provide an excellent basis for a trade agreement. Sadly, we cannot offer much besides money - but perhaps that's not so sad after all?

"On a more local level, the more upscale resorts on the island would leap at a chance to attain privileged access to a neighboring nation, particularly one as grand and storied as the Imperium. Individual tours of historic sites, visits to the finest wineries and restaurants, access to the rich and famous... they will pay a premium for those. Not to mention, contracting with the luxury resorts almost always includes access rights to that resort's rooms and services, at will and in perpetuity.

"Now, the latter arrangements really are strictly local. Only one district focuses on providing these kinds of services, and the national view is that it is up to its members individually to arrange and afford. But I think if we could arrange a combination of some of these individual deals with either of the national priorities I mentioned, they could be presented and easily accepted by your countrymen as a national pursuit of our interests.

"I have found, in my myriad wheelings and dealings, that most people refuse to believe that our hotels, neighborhoods, or even districts can truly negotiate independently of our," he smiled a worryingly wolfish smile, "central bureaucracy. I expect this to hold true here as well, which I believe you can use to your advantage."

He sat back, awaiting Aemilius' response.
 
Aemilius selected an article out of his folder, and flicked through it. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he started marking off various points on the article, and making notes.

"So, we have a starting point on your end then. Environmental health, agriculture, and tourism. I suppose it is then my turn to try and meet you."

Aemilius continued to look through the article. The 'Doomsday Book', it was called, a humorous play on the historic Domesday Book of an ancient trading partner with Alba Longa. A courtesy provided to the Senate by the Lictorial Service, it was a rather long record of the Senators and their various businesses and interests. It is said that a rare few Senators have access to a Doomsday Codec, a significantly more detailed, bound publication, bordering on a pick-and-mix of blackmail compiled by the staff directly under the chief of the Lictorial Service. Aemilius is not one of them, but the Doomsday Book will do for now.

"It is my opinion that, for the moment, agriculture is the best move forward. Your suggestions of tourism and environmental health are interesting, and will work well later, but I'll come to those in a moment. Those two suggestions would require me to entreat the Senate directly, and it would be best to start by canvassing individual support through agricultural contracts. You are right in saying that preferred contracts between ourselves and the String would certainly interest us, in exchange for money. The question, simply, would be what produce you were looking specifically at obtaining. I assume that String prefers to sell its own seafood, to preserve its brand, but that too is something we could discuss - given our size, it may be viable for smaller, more budget resorts to purchase our seafood, reducing the cost of your own premium brands to higher-class resorts. However, I expect you are more interested in things like vegetables and fruits, as well as dairy projects for baking and consumption. It would, of course, depend on the cuisine you wish to cultivate in the String.

However, it would be prudent to discuss tourism and environmental health at your convenience. Given our proximity, it may be most appropriate to create a marine reserve between the String and Imperium. While it would make maritime transport en masse between our closest points more difficult, it should be trivial to set up long-term aerial connections over the reserve whilst retaining space for small-scale marine tourism. And at any rate, the closest trip to Alba Longa would most likely not cross over the reserve. Such a reserve may be an effective capstone to our tourism proposal, and it would be a way for us to introduce a preferred heir into the Senate.

The question I must pose now, however, is how the String would likely wish to proceed in specific, regarding tourism and agriculture. Will we be looking at specific, branded deals? Are we looking mainly at luxury, premium tours, as I expected? How will we be theming these agreements, if at all?"
 
Wohehiv shook his head slightly in response. "The String has no interest in luxury tourism arrangements - as I said, those would be negotiated by individual, independent hotels. I cannot myself negotiate on their behalf, other than to say that I am sure they would be eagerly interested. I or any of my colleagues could of course put you in touch with the ones we have personal connections to. I am not sure I understand your question about theming - on our side, they will simply be trade.

"As for agriculture, some products would be negotiated by the String, and others individually. The broad categorization comes down to whether something is a staple, like bread, or a basic ingredient, like wheat; or whether it is a luxury good, like caviar. Staples and basic ingredients are purchased by the String - preferably for a set price negotiated in advance - and then sold at a minor markup to interested parties. Luxury goods, on the other hand, are acquired by individual hotels on their own recognizance."

It occurred to him how odd the String's classification system was sometimes, or at least, how odd it could seem to outsiders. When you gave it some thought, it wasn't entirely unreasonable that wheeliyaks, the odd contraptions that allowed a single vessel to be paddled on both land and sea and which were almost necessary to traverse SillyString's odd geography, were considered necessities and thus negotiated nationally. But tell someone that your kayak-with-wheels-on is a government-subsidized staple, and they'll fall apart laughing.

No matter - wheeliyaks had not yet come up, so he was spared the need to explain them.

"We do, as you guessed, fish locally. Why not? We are an ocean nation. Our fishing is regulated and limited, though, in the interest of preserving our surrounding environment and ensuring a sustainable food supply. So, we do import some seafood regularly. We also must import fish and other aquatic foods that are not local to the area, in order to provide for our visitors.

"And that brings me to your next point - the question of cuisine. There is, naturally, a native Sillish cuisine, and as you might imagine it is heavily fish and seafood based. But our guests come from all over, and we do endeavor to provide them with any cuisine under the sun - for a price, of course. As a result, we import a huge variety of products.

"From the Imperium, given that it is our very close neighbor, the String would certainly be interested in a contract for basic and staple foods, such as wheat, corn, milk, bread, meats, that kind of thing. And of course, as with all things that can be billed as luxury, there would be some interest (but again, not from the String) in local delicacies - your fermented cheeses, your pickled tongues, and the like.

"Finally," he concluded, leaning forward and steepling his fingers, "your idea for a marine reserve is an excellent one, as it goes right to the heart of our interests. It is environmentally sound, provides an exciting new attraction for tourists with a variety of means to be experienced, and would likely catch the attention of the world in its novelty. This, I think, would make the String salivate."

He took a hearty draft of his wine, and fell silent.
 
((The double-bracket indicates OOC text.))

"I think we can resolve the topic of agriculture sufficiently enough to pass on to our aides, in fairly little time. We should start there - Ioannes, I'm sure, is starting to bore of our talk. Not that writing emails is any better, but it would give him something to do when we move on to the discussion on the reserve.

Now, in Imperium, exports are generally conducted by contracting Imperium itself through the August Imperial Brokerage Agency - AIBA. AIBA handles all sales by corporate bodies that are not intended for consumers within Imperium. A trade agreement would entail creating a Brokerage Commission for Silly String. The Commission would then be available to advise and procure for any Silly String citizen, as well as for your government and your companies. It would handle all legal, shipping, and domestic taxation requirements - if I recall correctly, you do not have import tarriffs, but if you were to introduce them in future, the Commission would be available to account for those in serving exporters and importers. The Commission serves as what many nations would call an 'ombudsman' - issues with your contract or the products received would be raised with the Commission, which can claim reparations from the exporter in question on your behalf.

In terms of the agreement between our governments, AIBA generally offers renewable, offset year-long contracts, enough to cover each growing season. For instance, in January 2016, AIBA would commit to a schedule for exports from January 2017 to January 2018. The initial agreement would include exports to cover the period before exports under the contracts begin. If the contract isn't projected to change very often, the renewal process should only be a formality - it is not an involved process.

As far as stable goods go, let me think.

For cereal grains, we can easily handle both barley and wheat. Rice, we do not produce in any significant quantity, unfortunately. We import it, and rice is not a good which requires much processing, so you would find it more convenient to purchase it elsewhere. Corn is simple, milk and dairy is simple. We can produce risen loaves of bread easily, but it is relatively costly in Imperium, as it is mainly produced for export and not domestic consumption. Flatbreads, like pita, are significantly more popular here, and are produced efficiently for sale directly to the consumer and for export. In terms of spices and herbs, we cover the range used in "Mediterranean" cooking, and to a lesser extent those used in typically Alainni ((Middle-Eastern)) cooking - the mix 'baharat', for instance.

Meat and seafood, we can also handle easily. Goat, lamb, chicken, pork, and beef are all easily come by. With our coast and the size of the sea we share with Alainn, we have access to much seafood ((as in the Black Sea)) that is somewhat more difficult to come by elsewhere - shell-fish, for instance, is trivial to farm on our coasts.

Fruist and vegetables are much the same as the spices. Regarding more processed or expensive produce, there may be some Silly String wishes to purchase collectively as well. We tend not to drink grain alcohol in Imperium - beer, for instance, is extremely unpopular. However, it would be trivial for AIBA to create a fairly standard set of cheap table wines - blending some of the more consistent varieties, for instance. There are a number of wineries that provide low-cost standard products - the warmer climates on the inner coasts of Imperium cultivates grapes that do not have the same quality of variation that my preferred wines do, but it lends itself well to a consistent brand that can be sold like the average nation cans beer. All AIBA needs to do is create, say, three cheap blends - a red, a white, and a rose - to the preferences of the String, and the Commission would charge a nominal fee for quality control, and adjust the ratios as necessary to retain the intended flavour in mass batches. AIBA would, of course, then handle the specific requirements of producers to supply Silly String with more carefully cultivated wines. In the case of cheese, we can do much the same - offer producers a standard procedure in exchange for the assured export contract, and create a cheap, factory-produced standard product for your preferred styles. Perhaps a soft cheese, a hard cheese, and an intermediate cheese, or the former two with cow's milk, and a cheese from sheep's milk and from goat's milk. Any other such produce, you are welcome to inquire after now, or have an aide make an inquiry with the Commission after it is formed.

Imperium is relatively self-sustainable in industry, although many of our goods are made for consumers rather than for export. For instance, our furniture would not lend itself well to Silly String's needs. But any other industries you may be interested in - where low-cost, or high quantity are a greater issue than luxury or complexity - you are welcome to raise. The exception are our mainstay industries - transportation, electronics, small arms, industrial manufacturing and tools, and, as has been discussed, processed agricultural goods.

If you have no other questions on that matter, we can discuss the matter of this marine reserve. The most important thing to discuss immediately, I suppose, is Silly String's current capacity to support such a reserve. One imagines that you would have the diplomatic clout and international goodwill to secure private sponsorship and charitable contributions, which is quite enough for us to commit to the project, but going forward, Silly String may be interested in contributing materially to other aspects of the reserve. The scientific aspects, the law enforcement aspects, et cetera. Does the String have any extensive bureaucratic or technical experience with environmental reserves and the like?"
 
"We do indeed. Our national remodeling project was designed and supervised by many of the best environmental scientists, both Sillish and foreign. Their goals at that time were to diminish any harmful effects of such terraforming and to guide our progress in order to minimize our footprint in the future. Once that project was completed, the leading scientists were formed into our Environment Protection Committee, with more junior scientists serving as research assistants. The Committee provides ongoing guidance when it comes to the environmental impact of proposed projects, and their approval is required for any construction, terraforming, or the like to take place.

"This is not quite the same as an environmental reserve, but the scale and nature of the two are similar." Wohehiv paused to think for a moment. "As for the goods you describe, those all sound within the realm of what we would be interested in purchasing, and I'm sure one or more of our bureaucrats would love to start hashing out the specific details of which standard cheeses and wines to stock and which specific goods to order in which amounts. I'm sure you understand that I am not familiar enough with the exact needs of my country in this regard to finalize anything immediately."

He glanced down at his now empty wine glass and frowned, almost imperceptibly. "I appear to have run dry," he observed, thoughtfully. "No, no, dear fellow, I would not presume to impose on you for more of your excellent vintage. The hour has grown late while we have immersed ourselves in conversation. Perhaps enough has been discussed for today, and we might pick up again tomorrow when the other two of my delegation have arrived? I do wonder what could be keeping the Alainnis... but perhaps we might retire to dinner, and they could meet us there..." He trailed off wistfully.

Alamea nudged Wohehiv slightly, nigh imperceptibly, and he brightened up again suddenly with a smile. "Oh, but I forget myself! Please, accept this humble gift. It is for you personally, from my estate - not a formal diplomatic gesture." He presented the wooden box to Aemilius with a dramatic flourish and a smile.
 
Aemilius smiled at the box for a moment, gesturing towards his nephew. Stepping forward quickly, Ioannes bowed deeply, holding his arm across the top of his pectoral muscles in the Augustan fashion. As Ioannes took the box, Aemilius repeated the movement with his arm, bowing just his head.

Placing the box squarely in front of Aemilius, Ioannes lifted the lid, presenting the contents for Aemilius' consideration.

The hinges came up silently, without resistance. Sitting almost unnaturally flush with the otherwise unassuming wooden box, the delicate furnishings had a disproportionate buff to them. Hidden within the palm-sized chest was a velvet cushion, seasoned with a subtle caramel musk. Typical of traditional Latin craftsmen trying - and succeeding - to appear a bit more modern, the incorporation of strong scents underplayed by thick, flowing textures. At any rate, the pine roisins used to treat its own wood lent the whole affair a tangible grounding.

And on that cushion was a deep, blood red mahogany pen. Its tip was gilt in what appeared to be white gold, and it was trimmed with the same. This was with an exception, of course. The pen was capped with a deep, iridiscent gem. A commoner would peg it for a cheap diamond with an exceptional cut - a jeweller for an expensive opal carelessly cut. A stone of the same quality adorned the pen's white gold clip, spitting faint traces of colour throughout the clip. Veins of fibreglass struck out through the electroplating, occasionally taking up the sparkle of the stone set in the clip.

Aemilius smiled - partially out of politeness, and partially out of awe. Indeed, it was a gift that he could appreciate. It was not traditional, by any means. The use of adornments on pens was considered gaudy by most Augustine standards, and white gold was unpopular. However, there was something about those seemingly subpar stones that struck both him and Ioannes - for different reasons.

Ioannes leaned over, and whispered to Aemilius. It was a short sentence, one as efficient as any factory-line. Those subpar stones may fetch only glee from a man who spent his life on a farm, but Ioannes trained for years as a biochemical engineer at one of Imperium's top universities. At war, he managed fuel and pharmaceutical stockpile management for the Medical Service, and at peace, he worked as a consultant laboratory technician. And, at the moment, he saw the true value of those stones.

The sentence was immaterial, with the exception of one word - 'bezoar'. A relatively commonplace term in Augustan mythology, and in modern health science, but one that carried degrees more nuanced weight here.

Aemilius did not have the same eye, nor experience, as Ioannes. For that matter, it was a near-miracle that Ioannes recognized the stone as a bezoar - he was a chemical engineer, but this purported bezoar was an obscure one. A development by some private research and development company somewhere in the world. The merest contact of a common toxin - in particular, arsenic and its compounds - would render the stone ever so subtly discoloured, as if an opal were viewed from a different angle. With the careful management of the fibreglass strands by a craftsman, Ioannes surmised, you could provide a consistent viewing angle such that the colours would either remain consistent or be entirely concealed, meaning that any discolouration would be easily observed as a result of toxic atmosphere.

The bezoar at the top did not have this same purpose, Ioannes surmised. The fibreglass strands did not have this placement for the top bezoar, but they were certainly the same - no doubt costly - stone. Instead, there has to be another factor at play.

And indeed there was, although neither would figure it out until given time to investigate the gift further. Hidden in the crown of this capping bezoar were minute needles - one could prick a finger on the bezoar, drawing blood immediately past it into the cap of the pen. Blood would be drawn into the seat of the cap against the pen, when the tip is capped. The pen could then be uncapped, allowing the blood to flow, concealed, into the tip of the pen by capilliary action, reacting with the special-order ink - again, producing subtle discolouring on the presence of a myriad of common toxins.

The implications were staggering, well-founded, and not entirely unexpected. Welcome to the major league, Aemilius.

Ioannes stepped forward, lifted the box to Aemilius, and offered him the pen - which Aemilius gratefully accepted, as well as the unassuming leather cover that was tucked away behind the velvet. The box itself immediately went into Ioannes' coat, and the pen placed in its cover and pocketed. Aemilius noted that the cover had a rather unconventional look to it - lacing trimmed a hole in the leather, giving way to the clip and its bezoar while concealing the rest of the pen from the elements.

Before Ioannes could step back, Aemilius tapped the fist now facing him.

"Would you go prepare the autocart? I'm expecting we'll be eating in the Basement."

Ioannes bowed to Aemilius - this time only to his shoulder-height, rather than his waist - and again to Wohehiv. He placed the wooden box on Aemilius' right, carefully aligning it parallel to the table's edge. He quickly made his way to the door, pulling a small black flipphone from his jacket and sending a text as he did. Stopping short, he stood idly, seemingly at ease, his hand on the door handle.

Aemilius returned his focus to Wohehiv.

"An autocart is a three-wheeled vehicle. They're used commonly in Imperium, because they're extremely affordable. They're not particularly fast, and a bit space-starved, for which I apologize, but they're the only way to travel in many of our cities, beyond the tram routes. Government regulations do a great deal towards preserving our cultural heritage, but one of the unfortunate costs is that road access within the city can't handle most vehicles. Tram routes use a small number of spine roads that run through the city - selected for both general accessibility and the costs in expanding those roads.

A lot of autocarts can only handle one passenger, and they're generally used for commutes by people living in the apartment buildings of the city. Senators, like myself, have a permanent membership with the city authority's taxi service, so I've called ahead for a four-person autocart for the day. It's a bit more discrete.

They do seat a little awkwardly, however, as they carry four and not five, like international-sized vehicles. I assume you will be sitting in the back, Wohehiv. The other back seat will be for Alamea, unless she'd prefer to sit with Ioannes in the front. I don't mind, either way. Excuse me for a moment, I will just check on our dinner plans."

Quickly pulling a phone from his jacket, he started to browse for something. Its counterpart in Ioannes' hand vibrated, drawing Aemilius' attention.

A silent glance was shared between the two, and Ioannes quickly departed with a nod.

Aemilius looked back to his phone, and then returned it to his jacket pocket.

"Well, we seem to be ready to go, if there is nothing else to discuss. I had a few different plans for dinner. The first is that we could eat here, at the Legationem. Glassbox, on the top floor, is a lovely place for effectively anything you want. Some of the best cooks in the country, making an eclectic selection of cuisine. They're not exactly specialists, though, and as some of our more illustrious Senators will remind you frequently, cooks are not chefs. Still, it's one of the few places in Imperium you can get more than one foreign cuisine at the same table, let alone at a high quality. Like the rest of the Legationem, we own it in common.

The second is that we could go to the Iron Curtain. An odd place, but fantastic food. Run by a fairly traditionalist family for decades, and vehemently pro-Emperor. Entire place is painted in Augusticana - I think they actually got an autographed picture, a few years back. Still, they're not particularly notable. Most of their patrons are wealthy enough not to need to deal with a family business to score political points, and there's a point in the political hierarchy where being pro-Emperor and pro-Senate are one and the same thing. As far as the Senate is concerned, they're no more pro-Emperor than your average housepet, and we've been using the place for so long that we put together an investment pool to bribe the floor staff with the interest. Many of them are former servicemen, actually. Just not from the Extraordinary services, or the Emperor's finest.

The last option is the one that I figure you'll be drawn to. The Basement, in Alba Longa's night market. It's not actually affiliated with the Senate - it's a personal haunt of mine. Not many of the Senators have the same mercantile activity I do. Sure, many of them have farming background, but very few ever actually got their hands dirty. It's a popular place to swap stories and favours between those of us in, or formerly in, the business of small-scale dealing. Lots of them are self-employed - wealthy and educated, thanks to a combination of smart work and hard work. Some of the best produce in the country gets skimmed off the top in those rooms, to keep the Basement the kind of place you can take a new political ally.

I actually once had a complimentary glass of wine from a cask that, the barkeep said, was going to the palace itself. I don't quite believe the implication that it was for Caesar, but I can assure you that very few wine casks are worth a wax seal like the one on that barrel. Wouldn't be surprised if it was a table wine for the Vestal Virgins."
 
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