For More Vivan-Cola! [INVITE ONLY]

[Pikabo]

---

​

​

Agreement between the Lawstoner Republic and the Marquisate of Vivanco ​

on procurement of $500-million worth of Vivanquian agricultural products​

and on a $100-million credit facility to finance rural development in Vivanco.​

---

1-1​

---

Lawstoner Republic

Is it any wonder that a man goes mad?

Inside the plane, Jejomar barely kept his seething to himself when he watched with Untalan, whose happiness was emotionally opposite to what was pulling down Jejomar's lips. It was the sight of the continuous boarding of their so-called humble delegation. The uniformity in the long and consistent line of suits would not have been disturbing if only the consistency was confined in the colors of their dark business attire, not their numbers as they enter the plane. They came in from the front like a black mamba slithering into a dead animal's mouth. Hopefully, the scorned look of irritable passengers will convince Untalan sooner of this absurdity.

Jejomar always believed he was one step ahead of Untalan. He thought he could take away some things, including the permits to use government planes to fly on this mission. But not this time.

The creepy bloke managed to play him well. Who knew stopping him from calling Tjinder Air Base would convince him to go to an Iterienflieger Ticket Office and fork the bill without notifying Jejomar.

To try and turn this around, Jejomar threatened Untalan to not use this trip to please anyone in the department and allow other department permanent vice ministers to do the same, or there will be an inquiry. Unfortunately, an inquiry wasn't all that it seems and Untalan even insisted on it to make good PR (at least for the department when it comes to pass). Now Jejomar has to deal with this set-up.

But Jejomar won't give up so easily in a momentary loss...

"Game set and match, Herr-... Gat Untalan." Jejomar said, winking his brown eyes at a pair of similar ones.

Untalan looked at Jejomar, a deceptive smile forming around his indomitable pretense. "What do you mean, Herr Minister?"

Jejomar looked back at the plane window. "Is it really necessary, Gat Untalan? This humble delegation won't get any humbler than what it actually is."

"Herr Minister..." Untalan took a deep breath and sighed as if there was something Jejomar did not understand. "This trade deal isn't just the Außendepartmentium. We lead the effort, but not its entirety. Besides, certain policies our department is not responsible for all what's left to be finalized. So we have a delegation from the Schatzkammer, a delegation from wirtschaftliche Zusammenarbeit und Entwicklung, a group from Information, and- Oh look! There's the Kabinettsbüro team."

Untalan pointed somewhere at the tarmac. Jejomar stood up to get closer and look outside the window, trying to get a sharper look down there which, from here in business class, somehow worked for Untalan. Unless it is another one of his little tricks to play diversions, it has happened so many times it never came off as a surprise nor an effective one. It only made Jejomar convinced he is obligated to do something about it.

To that end, at least at this early stage, his overwhelmed self conceded to give himself a defeated nod. Just this once, one of very few instances.

"And there's Legal, they're the ones who ironed the agreement." Untalan pointed again, wherever they are down there (maybe up in the sky like Untalan's head), if it does even point at someone or something. Jejomar does not even want to follow it with his eyes to see what he already knows he couldn't.

"Obviously," Untalan continued, "we can't afford creases to a multi-million dollar deal, attached to a potential trade partner. This is why we are not just one delegation, and if I may improve your understanding, I believe there's an economical difference between 'humble' and 'downsizing.' We need the Privatsekretäre, the Pressekretäre, and the Verbindungsvertreter."

"You mean Pressesprecher." Untalan said. "Remember Boob's liquidated the press offices in every department and absorbed all of the responsibility and personnel. It's his staff now."

Untalan nodded. "Anyway, we're doing the Vivanquians a favor. Kaxiaus region has too many concerned farmers. It's almost as if they received comprehensive education."

"Oh?" Jejomar scratched his chin. "I'm curious to know what's it this time."

Gasping at Jejomar (despite both of them know how many times Untalan has done this before), he delivers a sing-song explanation. "Well! We all know in any democratic nation, with all its fallations and lunations, there is no comprehensive education. For the name 'comprehensive education' is to make up for the mere fact it does not rear, only...arrears."

Jejomar smirked from the corner of his mouth. "So you want to help those people?"

Untalan scoffed and laughed out his vain sense of humor. "Oh-ho! Herr Minister, our long-term objective is to get Vivanco's most favored nation status. Farmers cry and fall down to their knees once they see the 'eggs' in millions. Once we sign it off, they'd be doing the same thing to their parliament. Everyone, both of us, wins. Then we grant them the same status for a sweet conclusion."

Jejomar snickered. He muttered to himself, "That or it's just eggs, then they won't just be crying or falling on their knees."

"What?" Untalan looked studiously at the curves of Jejomar's lips, probably to trace what it spit out just now.

What Jejomar broke off in what he wanted to look like a thoughtful trance, might have ended up a childish daydream to Untalan. Good enough, Jejomar supposes.

"Yolk on our faces, Herr Untalan." Jejomar smiled.

Untalan didn't look convinced. Jejomar looked around in a puzzled reaction he did not even realize he was doing until he spotted his can of Vivan-Cola.

Jejomar got an idea. He grabbed the can and lifted it up to his face. He took a long gulp and proclaimed, "Er. Für mehr Vivan-Cola!"

 

[Vivanco]

The newspapers weren't as kind as the day was being in Petria. The latest Petria Herald had been published with the newest political outrage. Corruption cases everywhere, separatist movements, the great claim that the government was doing nothing for the good of Vivanco...

It was strange how strong was still the phisical news, in this age of technology, how much power had the newspapers.

With a cup of tea by his side, Fernando Larrosa, mayor of Petria, was reading such newspaper in his desk, in the Town Hall. An ancient barroque palace that was reused as an administrative host. The mayor's office was strange. It didn't have as much detail as many other rooms would have. A floor of wood, stone walls, in a circular base, and a dome as ceilling. The light dimly came from the window at his back that gave view to the main square of the city, the Rethan Square, a reminiscent name of an ancient kingdom.

He ought to have the visit of the Vivanquian's Minister of External Relationships and International Trade, Rudolph Van Daster. They knew eachother as if they were family. They were, but only very partially. Rudolph was the son of the second marriage of Fernando's great grandfather. So, they were connected, slightly.

A knocking came from the door and Fernando left the newspaper on the desk, standing up and readjusting his suit vest. In came a lightly taller man than Fernando, much older, with a poblated moustache, greying, and glasses, in a suit one could say came from a museum or a time travel.

"I apologice for being late, the traffic is always giving me trouble." Said the man in a sheepish yet firm voice as he took off his coat with a smile before closing the door.

"One can only expect so much from you, Rudolph." the younger mayor said with irony and a smirk, as he walked infront of his desk, taking a chair out so that Rudolph may sit. Once he took his seat, he went back to his, taking a sip from the tea.

"So, today is the day, isn't it?" said the mayor.

"I suppose it is. One could have said that the Duke was going to come, since he seems to like so much foreign visitors."

"A little too much, I'd say."

"Your words, not mine. You have read our letters, right?"

"Yes, and I insist that there need to be an implementation of electronic administration for these official things."

"It's just tradition, Fernando. And, well. It's always good to have phisical copies of things, just in case."

"Sure. Anyway, what made those of Lawston choose Kaxiaus, out of all the regions? With all the trouble we are having already with them!" He said taking the newspaper again and pointing at a headline that claimed the rise of separatist movements in Kaxiaus.

"Well, they are a rich agricultural land, quite fertile. And maybe that can quiet them down just enough."

"And why should I go again?"

"Mere protocol. They come to sign the agreement, after all. A bit of Vivanquian hospitality wouldn't look bad for international press."

"Should we also kiss the land they walk onto aswell?"

"Fernando!"

"What?"

"Those are not manners. If you want to keep your status within the party and go for the reelection, I would reccomend you do as you're told."

"Very well. But I think it's going to take them a while to get here, to Petria. In the mean time... Would you like some tea?"

"Coffee would be much better."

"Very well then. You still have to tell me all about these... Lawstonians, or however they're called."

 

[Pikabo]

Marquisate of Vivanco

If getting out of the plane was easy, leaving the airport is an entirely different matter. They're still looking for the people from the Lawstoner Embassy and they've been standing in the Arrivals Bay for five minutes.

It's been so long, Jejomar has been tapping his shoe for nearly a minute and counting... Granted, he knows it hasn't been that long, but there aren't many cars either. With no serious traffic to justify any significant delay, the sight of an uninterrupted flow of cars got on his nerves. (His mind actively wrestles with reason that the uninterrupted flow of cars equates to no traffic, when it is actually not... Or is it???)

"Hast du den Lokalzeitung heute gelesen?" Jejomar asked Gat Untalan. Although yes, the creepy son-of-a-gun isn't holding a newspaper, there is no way Gat Untalan is playing games on his phone.

"Ein Lokalzeitung namens Petria Herald. Seems like the Vivanquians couldn't keep a strong face."

Jejomar nodded. He read a little about Vivanco. The country is rich but the people, like Lawston, are educated. Therefore, the possibilities of a mini-revolution inside every home rises every six and a half seconds or when a parent tells one of the kids to do some house chores. That's the downside in modern developed countries. Put kids into school, they get out deluded and feeling entitled. And it gets worse from there, as they get a few diplomas closer to the baccalaureate...

Well, it's more like the problem of the current generation. Perhaps in every current generation, the next would always be seen in the same light. Could be, or there's no problem at all. Or perhaps Jejomar and others like him simply feel threatened-

Er. Before he unintentionally gets himself sidetracked into a midlife crisis this early, he has to think more about the task at hand...

Still, the grooming of the next generation is annoying. Jejomar has had a couple under his roof. Both of them were sent into boarding schools. The next thing he knew, slowly, as they came home each school break, sporting different weird haircuts and hair dyes, both of them had become activists. The worst thing any parent could expect from their children in their young adulthood. Especially if one of the parents is a politician, and, most critically, if the children are political activists.

And I thought I sent them to Courantist schools. Jesus...is it really hard to take the unusual request and turn my children into patriotic fiscal conservatives?

Before Jejomar really gets lost, Petria is a big town with big fish to fry...

Nah. Jejomar knows this visit is all about formalities. The deal has already been done. It's just a custom they are required to do physically in order to officially sign the agreement. Fellow foreign minister, responsible capitalists, peace and free trade to all men. All sorts of ceremony and stereotypical bullshit about a brotherhood or some community of free, sovereign nations.

All at least for him. He's not sure about the delegations from different departments...

Wait a minute.

"Gat Untalan...where's everybody?" His staff isn't even here with them.

The man glanced at him with a flash of self-importance (justified by his career seniority), looking like he can't be bothered by his own boss (debatable, unbelievable!) to continue reading his obviously more important news feed.

"Hmm. They already left. The buses rented by the Embassy took them to City Hall, External and International Trade, wherever else they're needed."

...Excuse me?

"So you're telling me...that they, with our staff, are on the road...while both of us are still here?"

Gat Untalan nodded. "We need them to be there before us for the cameras. We don't want Documentation to show we're THAT many. Unlike the Vivanquians, we got a mask on our face. A double. One intricate mask of efficiency and one of practicality."

That is...mild.

Before Jejomar could give Untalan a teeny-tiny piece of his V.E.R.Y. C.A.L.M. mind, a car flying the Lawstoner flag stopped in front of them.

"Los, Herr Minister."

"Wie zufällig. How serendipitous." Jejomar muttered. Welch ein Glück. You're lucky it's here now. Otherwise, we could've had an interesting earful experience.

 

[Vivanco]

The Minister filled the mayor in with a few brushes of what they knew of Lawston. The names of those who were going to come, a bit of their tradition... Meanwhile, the minister had opened up the window of his office and reached to the half-smoked cigar and lighted it up, taking a few drags as he listened, not paying much attention.

"So, what you're telling me is that they don't have anything extraordinary. We don't have to pull some certain manners or say certain words..."

"As far as I'm concerned." Said Rudolph

"Good. I don't want to be seen doing some weird thing for some... strangers."

"What a good thing that only I can hear that."

"We could call that luck." He said taking the cigar off his mouth and looking outside at the square.

"Today will be the signing, and tomorrow the ceremonial stuff. I suppose your people have already managed all of the things for them, like where they will stay and all of that."

"I made sure of that personally. Just in case, we've cut the main road to the Town Hall so that their official car could come here easily."

"Well, then we better get going before they arrive."

The mayor turned off his cigar again and left it on the marble ashtray on the desk, and moved to the door, holding it open for the minister.

They walked across the granite halls of the Town Hall of Petria, the old "Palacio De Los Pescadores", and they waited for them with the rest of the Town Hall Councillors, the 32 of them, across the stairs that lead up to the door, as the police secured for the people that accumulated across the square, awaiting the arrival of the foreigners.

 

[Pikabo]

The car rolled up to the steps of Petria Town Hall, or rather, more fitting, the palace. Vivanco is one of those olden states. A nation with the special dignity of having cultivated their culture without the scar of colonization and the invasive forces of imperialism. Certain things Jejomar admires from other certain countries.

Jejomar was about to open the door when Gat Untalan suddenly reached for him and pulled his away from the handle.

"Warten sie! Wait for your bodyguard to open it... All according to script." Gat Untalan pointed at the window, at Documentation pointing their cameras at them. "We've got cameras on us. Sei bitte vorsichtig!"

"Ja, ja!" Jejomar waved him off.

As the bodyguard opened the door, getting out of the car was a complete breath of fresh air. The air was getting stuffy with that man. Jejomar would not want to deal with him for a prolonged period of time.

Thank God their destination is distracting. While Rethan Square has its own fair share of beauty and history, most of the important history in the area must be concentrated in this grand creation of splendor standing high and mighty before him. Majestic and very, very old no doubt.

Because of the reportedly troublesome local traffic, the local authorities thought best, and indeed they did their best, to clear an entire main thoroughfare to ensure a speedy and smooth arrival. This is the only thing keeping Jejomar happy so far and he hopes the Vivanquians will make him very happy. While Jejomar understood the priorities of one senior beamter, Gat Untalan should have the basic awareness of keeping ministers happy too. To make sure they're the slightest bit more competent. At the very least, help them feel like it.

"Herr Minister! Don't forget to smile! Lächeln!" Gat Untalan cheered from behind, letting Jejomar lead the way.

That's...a little better.

Cameras flashing and attracted at their every movement, still too few to call it a mob. But they're scattered around like wild city birds, fluttering and pecking the air with their camera lenses... Besides, they are no celebrities. One is a politician and the other is a glorified bloodsucker. The rest of their colleagues are in the background, doing their job as Jejomar and Gat Untalan are doing theirs. All according to script. Gat Untalan is the director and Jejomar is... Wait, what is he even? And isn't he supposed to be a cabinet minister???

Of course, as soon as the distance between Jejomar and the Vivanquians came close, Jejomar widened his smile. Particularly, based on the pictures he saw from the bios, he smiled at the Mayor of Petria and the Vivanquian Minister. With an idea of order and precedence, Jejomar reached out his hand first to the Vivanquian Minister.

"Hallo! Ich bin der Außenminister, Lawstoner Republik! Schön, heute hier sein zu können. Die Fahrt hierher war sehr angenehm. Petria ist zwar eine sehr schöne Stadt. Touristisch, touristisch! So ein schöner Ort."

OOC:

Spoiler: Translations

"Hallo! Ich bin der Außenminister, Lawstoner Republik! Schön, heute hier sein zu können. Die Fahrt hierher war sehr angenehm. Petria ist zwar eine sehr schöne Stadt. Touristisch, touristisch! So ein schöner Ort."
Hello! I am the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Lawstoner Republic! Nice to meet you. The trip here was very pleasant. Petria is a very beautiful city. Touristy, touristy! Such a lovely place.

 

[Vivanco]

Rudolph felt delighted to find himself the first of the attention of the foreign dignitary, but his Lawstonian was quite rusted, not understanding all of the words that were just spoken to him, but he did understand some, and based on the context he could figure out the rest of them, and he tried to answer back.

"Es ist eine wahre Freude, dass Sie die Reise ... genossen haben" He said smiling gladly, a meak smile, humble like any other as he reached his gloved hand to him as well, shaking it as the flashing of the cameras bursted for the perfect picture

Fernando was standing close to the two of them, making sure that he would be in the pictures. Being amongst foreign dignitaries was always good press, and that's mostly what he needed the most, just in case something popped up from beneath the rug.

A few seconds passed before Rudolph signaliced with his hand over to the end of the stairs, to the entry of the palace, as an invitation for them to proceed to go inside with them.

 

[Vivanco]

The palace's current state could be established as "just restored ", although some wings are still closed to the entrance, covered by temporal wooden doors that were only accessible for construction workers. It was of neo-classic design, with huge pillars in the front before the huge stairs that welcomed the workers and guests.

Once inside, the ceiling went up and above to a exquisite piece of art, a mural painted of the local religion of the country, "Our Lady of Rethan", which showed a woman in red and yellow robes, from which beams of light seemed to cross on the fake reliefs on the painting. There was first a security check, of course, who was handing the act with utmost efficiency.

Rudolph spoke as they came through. "This would be the main entrance, which dates back to 1811, under the rule of the Duke Geriardu the Fourth, who wanted this to be a church-palace for his wife, Marie-Joanna. However, he died too soon to see his work completed, and his daughter, the Marchioness Mariann, with the turbulent political times she had to endure, decided to turn it into a parliamentary hall."

 

[Pikabo]

"How unfortunate."

A church-palace? For a wife? Must've been a chaste marriage.

Gat Untalan looked around to give himself some space to think about this palace...or parliamentary hall. This is still a city hall.

Is it?

Whatever it is, it has just finished renovation. By the looks of the makeshift wooden doors blocking some views of the palace halls they passed by, there is a high likelihood that the renovation is still ongoing. One could probably just appreciate the architecture. No need to worry about the semantic, the technical, or the etymological. That is not the point of the Vivanquian's little tour. As a foreigner- No. As a diplomat in this current undertaking, expected common courtesy is to express some degree of interest. Of course, no need to fawn. Just enough to highlight the respect for their culture and heritage.

To ensure that no compliments will leave any acquired taste, Gat Untalan thought of..well, remembered an age-old solution. He leaned over to Jejomar and whispered, "Let's speak in Tagapa. Talk only in Aleman to let them know what we want them to hear."

"Sige." Jejomar nodded excitedly, eager to participate.

Gat Untalan hopes he would not misplace this eagerness with childish abandon, the sort that would embarrass them and get themselves on a tabloid. Definitely in a filthy article next to this month's most-searched male porn star.

"Maganda...Malaki at dakila. Eh...pasensiya. Hindi ako arkitekt o taong dalubhasa sa sining. Sa kasamaang palad, politikar ako."

"Beautiful. Big and great. Forgive me. I'm not an architect or an enthusiast of the arts. Unfortunately, I'm a politician."

Gat Untalan and Jejomar almost jumped at the unknown voice that just spoke up behind them. The man smiled at them when they both looked to check who it was. Gat Untalan, though a bit late, was able to recognize the person. He nods to Jejomar. "Nakalimutan ko. May tagasalin pala tayo."

"Kanina pa natin siya kasama? Hindi ko nga na pansin siya eh." Jejomar replied with a delightful tone. Amused perhaps of this necessary surprise.

"Paumanhin po." The translator said. His head low and submissive. "Nagmamadali po kayo kanina kaya naisipan ko pong manahimik nalang muna."

"Ah. Ayos lang. Wala namang nasaktan, diba Untalan?" Jejomar replied to him reassuringly. Luckily, he replied first. Gat Untalan would have said something more up to his speed, which is harsh and intolerable.

Gat Untalan sighed. "Opo, Minister."

To think of it...neither the Vivanquian giving the tour nor the rest of the 33 with him have introduced themselves. Strange.

"Hindi ba natin kailangan malaman ang mga pangalan nila?" Jejomar asked, also aware of the fact.

Gat Untalan shook his head. "Baka kultur nila. Baka mamaya pa unfrung."

Jejomar hummed. It sounded doubtful.

"Tignan natin."

Spoiler: OOC Notes

"Nakalimutan ko. May tagasalin pala tayo."
I forgot. We actually have a translator.

"Kanina pa natin siya kasama? Hindi ko nga na pansin siya eh."
He was with us all this time? I didn't even notice him.

"Paumanhin po. Nagmamadali po kayo kanina kaya naisipan ko pong manahimik nalang muna."
My apologies. You sirs seem to be in a hurry earlier so I thought to remain quiet then.

"Ah. Ayos lang. Wala namang nasaktan, diba Untalan?"
It's okay. No harm done, right Untalan?

"Opo, Minister."
Yes, Minister

"Hindi ba natin kailangan malaman ang mga pangalan nila?"
Don't we need to know their names?

"Baka kultur nila. Baka mamaya pa unfrung."
Maybe it's their culture. Maybe introductions are later.

"Tignan natin."
We''ll see.