#fernoss

[ceazsocs]

did someone say: out of context oc memes?

[poisonous-letters]

Diplomancy

Caliban stared at the small letter in his lap with fingers rapidly tapping against his knee. It was definitely one of the most odd requests he had gotten. Fernoss, the militant nation of steel, had sent a request to his company. ‘The best Diplomancer you can offer’, they said. Naturally he was going to send himself…

What was the meaning of the request though? They were famous, or infamous depending on which side of the blade you were on, for being able to overpower most opponents standing in their way. The fact they needed a Diplomancer was worrisome. “Sir, you may be needed.” The driver’s voice ever so gently pulled the sorcerer out of his thoughts. From the windows he could see they were surrounded by rather crudely dressed men. With a small nod he moved to push open the passenger door before pausing.

“Be ready for my signal,” he whispered to the backseat before stepping out of the car. His left hand came up to fix the sweep of his black hair to the right while his right hand adjusted his tie. “Gentlemen!” A silence so heavy you could hear a dead man breathing blanketed them all.  “What seems to be the problem?”

One of them stepped forth from the crowd. Presumably he was the leader, or so his excess armor and mask suggested. “We were tipped off some Diplomancer would be passin’ chru ‘ere,” ‘What a disgusting accent,’ was the only thought on Caliban’s mind at that exact moment. “We were also told if’n he didn’t make it any furder than ‘ere we’d be paid handsomely.” There was the catch. There was always a catch on outings of this nature. They could never go smoothly it seemed.

“Sir, if I may call you that? I assure you that whoever promised you that payment is much more likely to, ah well…” The suited man found himself clearing his throat while his hand made unintelligible gestures before him. “To put it all too simply, they are more likely to kill you than pay you. They, for lack of a better analogy, do not want any loose ends on their ropes.” The many glances held between the gang was apparent to all but their leader who seemed entirely too steadfast on the idea of getting money.

With a scoff the masked man pulled a pistol free from his hip, lazily aiming it toward the floundering Diplomancer’s forehead. “Awfully big words for someone with only their life to gamble.” Caliban had to force the smile not to surface onto his face. ‘What an imbecile, playing directly into my hand.’

“I hear you clear, sir. And, unfortunately,” his hand pulled open the back door of the car. “I have to disagree that I am the one gambling my life.” The pistol suddenly became unbearably hot, forcing the leader to throw it to the ground. A woman in a suit much like the one the diplomancer was wearing stepped out from the car. “I assume you thought a diplomancer would come along unarmed, entirely assured that his words would be enough?” The female removed her black sunglasses to reveal two orange eyes aglow with the flames of a pyromancer. The fear was rippling throughout the crew of gangsters now. They were eating out of his hand… “So, which will it be sir? Will you lose your head at the hands of your employer or…” His eyes glanced behind him to the female while his lips still struggled to contain the smirk. ‘Not yet,’ he told himself. “Will you burn in flames from Hell before your departure for a similar temperature?”

The leader snarled before yelling, “Quit your gawpin’ you bunch of kittens! Ready your weapons! It’s just a single pyromancer, she can’t take us all!” Right into their trap. Caliban let his lips curl into the dastardly smile with a small exertion of diplomantic pressure from his mind to the rest of theirs. The driver side rear door slammed open with their other companion, a muscular male, stomping out of the car with his heavy broadsword in tow. The weapon was as tall as him and appeared to be as thick as the tree trunks he called arms. That he was able to lift the weapon was a miracle in its own right, but he went a step further by effortlessly swinging it in a flourish and pointing it toward the masked leader. This was followed by another push of diplomantic energy surging across everyone. And, just like that, they all scattered to the wind like hogs set free of their pens.

“Well, that was fun!” The woman returned her sunglasses to her eyes with a giggle before sliding back into the car. The muscled male gave a grunt of agreement before gently sitting the massive blade back into it’s hidden slot in the floorboard of the car. All three doors shut moments before the engine revved back into life.

“Indeed. Aphra, good show. And Dyn?” The male grunted again. “I appreciate the theatrics, they helped wonders, but maybe next time not that weapon. It helps to have a trick up our sleeves.” A begrudging mumble of yes sir could just barely be heard over the air conditioner. “Thank you.” His gaze returned to the letter. Signed by the king, emblazoned with his royal symbol. Worrisome indeed. And if the thugs were to be believed others knew of his coming. Perhaps it was a set up…

The moon was high in the sky by the time their car pulled into the courtyard of the Fernossian castle. And, much to the expectations and displeasure of Caliban, they were surrounded by guards and semi-automatic rifles in a near instant. “Get out slowly.” Following his own instructions he took a step out of the car, flashing a greasy smile at the guards. “I thought I’d have a welcome party, but I didn’t realize it’d be such a…”

“Formidable?” The diplomancer snapped his fingers in an ‘Aha!’ fashion at the word spoken by Aphra.

“That’s it! I didn’t expect it to be such a formidable one.” None of the armed appeared to appreciate their jokes, staring forward with their icy eyes. “May I speak to whoever is in charge around here? I assume you’ll get your general instead.” Before any of the soldiers could break away the general, with all of his uniformed and awarded glory, stepped forward.

“And I didn’t expect to see the likes of you to ever show your despicable face around here, Diplomancer.” The smile quickly dimmed from his face when the man approached him. It would be best described as a light bulb on its last legs just fading out of existence. The general seemed to see the smile fade, giving him a small smile of his own. “Why are you here?” The diplomancer refused to answer, glancing around as if he was waiting for someone. “I ask again, why. Are. You. Here.” Each word was more and more demanding leading to a threatening step forward. Caliban held the letter up to the man’s face, making him snatch out of his fingers to silently read it to himself. “This can’t be right..”

“Ah, you must be the Diplomancer!” The armored King came strolling from the shadows of his castle with arms open wide. “I am so glad you made it in!” Before he could approach any further the general intercepted him, pulling him to one side. Angry whispers could be heard between the two men for quite some time before the general was dismissed with a steaming red face. “You may stand down, men.” The King approached the small group once again. “Would you like to come with me to my private advisor’s room?” Without waiting for an answer he done a one-eighty on the heels of his feet and strolled away.

Caliban moved after him, signalling his two companions to follow behind him. “Your Highness, it appeared that your General had no knowledge of our arrival?” A nod. “Is there any reason for that..? Isn’t he your right-hand man?”

“What I choose to do with my information and my kingdom should not matter to you, Diplomancer. The most you should be worried about right now is doing your job well enough to make me want to pay you.” How crass.

“I understand, your highness. My apologies.” A small tug of diplomancy to tide the man back over to neutral, if not positive. “May I know why you requested my presence? Or is that to wait for when we are alone?” … No response. Moments later the door of the advisor’s room shut behind them, plunging the room into a dead silence.

“Now then. I have called you here for a number of reasons. I would like to end the war with Magar. We have lost too many a man, and my population's morale is falling. As well as my fiance refuses to carry out our wedding until the war is over!” There it was…

“And why is that, your Highness?” The King muttered some unintelligible gibberish. “I’ll have to ask you to speak up, Sir.”

A large sigh. “Because it is her homeland.” A juicy tidbit. “Can you help then?” Ending a war between two nations with vehement hate for each other, that have been locking teeth for literal decades; all for a wedding. ‘Average wednesday,’ the mage scoffed sarcastically to himself.

“Of course I can!”

Weeks of preparation. Letters sent back and forth from the kingdom of Fernoss and the queendom of Magar, from King to Queen. Slowly it came out that the Princess had run away from home to be with her lover but Queen Lashraa refused to believe so. At every end and bend she claimed that Fernoss had kidnapped her and was holding her there against her will. All in all it was like reading a poorly constructed, half-baked novella based entirely on the ravings of a madman.

Eventually the Queen agreed to meet at the borders with King Sorn. Both of them, of course, heavily guarded. Caliban was forced to ride with Sorn and his general who still shot him steely glances every few seconds. The atmosphere in the car was enough to make any newcomer shiver but none of the three moved to make any remarks over it.

“Your Highness,” the general began. “With all due respect don’t you think this is a bit rash?” Sorn raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. “Ending the war just so you can have your wedding. You must keep in mind this is the enemy, sir. Do you do not remember why this war began in the first place!?”

“I remember very well. But that was long ago, Nar. Before you, or even I, was born. To continue a war over something that none of us were alive for is silly, no?”

“Ending it is an insult to our ancestors and all of those who lost their lives at the hands of the cretins!” Nar bristled in sheer anger, deep breaths flaring his nostrils. Caliban sat up a bit taller through the arguing, staring ahead out of the window.

“They will all be dutifully remembered. But my utmost concern is not my wedding, General, but that we do not shed any more unnecessary blood. On either side.”

Nar began to yell again but was cut off by Caliban, “A noble reason, Your Highness. I am glad to hear you have seen reason where you’re father, and his father before him, could not. Truly Fernoss is in brighter directions under your rule.” With a muttering resembling ‘always a kissass’ General Nar fell into silence. The Diplomancer breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he could at least stop any further arguing. It would not do to have Sorn upset during the peace dealings.

An hour passed before they arrived at the designated meeting point. It appeared the Queen had been there for quite some time and had already set up a tent for them to meet in. She was sitting in a small wooden chair, scowling at them the moment all three exited from their car. “And where is my daughter?” Caliban glanced behind them to see the car approaching from a rather confusing distance. He had told them to stay far enough behind so an ambush wouldn’t capture all of them but this seemed excess.

“She is on her way, your Highness.” The Diplomancer gave a flourishing bow. “I am not sure if you were informed but I am Caliban, Head Diplomancer of Mornotty & Dimes. I will be here to help everything move along smoothly.” The expression that settled over her face seemed to suggest she was impressed that Sorn was going to this length.

Moments later the second car came to rolling stop next to theirs with the Fiance-Princess stepping out of the passenger door. Not forgetting her manners she gave a small curtsy to her mother, who nodded. “Then let us begin.” Taking his lover’s hand Sorn led them both into the tent with the Queen and Caliban following.

“Queen Lashraa, to begin I--”

“Please, just Lashraa. I respect you Diplomancers far too much to force you to use formalities.”

“Oh, thank you Madame.” Caliban forced a small smile while still ever so gently tugging at everyone’s minds with his power. “To begin I wanted to thank you for humoring us, I understand how rightfully outraged you are at your daughter running away from home.” Sorn began to speak but silenced from the glare the Diplomancer shot him. “But, as unfortunate as it may be, it is not my place to explain. So if you would...?”

The Princess nodded, taking a deep inhale. “Mother,” her voice of bells gently pealed. “I understand you only want the best for me. And that you are scared for my wellbeing, but I did run away of my own will. Sorn has not done anything wrong to me, he has shown me extreme hospitality. Fed me every night, and has not laid hands upon me in a violent or otherwise unsavory way.” The rehearsing had gone well. The Queen accepted the speech, smiling at her daughter with small tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Maybe he should pull back on how hard he was tugging at her mind…

“So you believe her?” Another nod with a small wipe at her eyes. ‘Excellent.’ “I believe His Magesty has something to say as well?”

The King rolled his shoulders. “Madame Lashraa, we have been locked in this struggle for far too long I feel. Ever since my Grandfather’s life. Many of our soldiers on the field today have no idea why they are fighting, just that they must fight. It is…” A small choke. “It is entirely unnecessary bloodshed. Young men who are entirely innocent to the crimes and sins of our ancestors. Do you not agree?” Caliban saw the woman begin to hesitate, amping up the pressure that he was pushing against her. Just enough to bring logic and rationale to the fore mind instead of emotions.

“Yes, I do have to agree. And I am glad you were the better person and initiated. I.. Apologize for being so stubborn. To both of you.” ‘There we go.’

That night the Diplomancer and his associates were beginning to set off. They were approaching the car when a hand landed upon his shoulder. Glancing over it he could see General Nar. “May I help you, General?”

“Drop the theatrics, Caliban. I want to talk to you. Not to the Diplomancer. To Caliban.”

“Then you have him, General. There is no theatrics to drop.” The man frowned deeply.

“I wanted to thank you. For helping this all along.”

“I was only doing my job, sir. Is that all? I really must go, I imagine my office is falling apart without me there to take care of it.” The General took a deep inhale, glancing away.

“...Could we stay in contact? For old time’s sake, if nothing else.” Caliban had to restrain himself from scoffing.

“I am sorry General, but that chapter of my life is shut. That Caliban is long dead. And, even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want to stay in contact with his abuser.” Shrugging the hand off of his body he entered the car without even a glance back.

[ceazsocs]