09-16-2018, 09:24 PM
10.00
Once all eyes in the room were again facing forward, Etan Bloomberg let all he'd just heard sink in. It was a few words that kept flashing in front of his eyes again and again - "all foreign military or intelligence forces, determined by the Gurantor, shall be asked to leave the Federation of Lauchenoiria." With that single sentence, everything he'd hoped to get out of these negotiations fell apart right in front of him. He tried to stay composed, to register nothing more than professional disappointment - as opposed to the awful, bone-deep horror he actually felt. Images kept flashing in front of his eyes - the burning police station in Melissa City: Dr Antonin with a bag over his head: dead bodies on the floor of an abandoned building in Melissa City. When he'd let these things happen, they'd felt justified -it all had to happen, he'd told himself, if any good was to come of this awful war. But now, with Operation Counterpoint's designs on Conternia foiled, with all his efforts rendered void, he couldn't stop himself from feeling the weight of it all, of every single death. Innocents dead, his country's own agents betrayed, his own mentor disgraced - and for nothing. He coughed and composed himself, before rising and addressing the gathered diplomats.
"Good people of these great nations, I will be frank with you: I cannot pretend to be altogether satisfied with this outcome. I made it clear that I think a complete evacuation of Conternian troops from Lauchenoiria would be a mistake, and run counter to the country's best interests. Nonetheless, I acknowledge that, in this case, that is not Conternia's decision to make, and I wish to express my recognition of and respect for the decision that the Guarantor has reached, and would encourage all my fellow delegates to do the same."
He scanned the faces surrounding him, and saw, from what he could read on their poker faces, a general sense of scorn, an unspoken response of 'who do you think you're fooling?' to his apparent humility and graciousness. In days to come, Bloomberg would often think back on their expressions in that moment as the defining moment of his time as Prime Minister.
"I should also like to add", he continued, "that I am prepared to fully cooperate with the Truth and Reconciliation Committee's investigation. I applaud this effort to bring closure and justice to this war, and Conternia is willing to do anything it can to aid in their efforts."
With that, he sat down, and again scanned the crowd, but this time the face that stuck with him was that of Barrow, a few seats away from him: conspiratorial yet disapproving, in a manner that whispered "only I know what you did". For most of the people in this room, today represented an ending. Etan Bloomberg, however, felt as if his ordeal was just beginning.
Once all eyes in the room were again facing forward, Etan Bloomberg let all he'd just heard sink in. It was a few words that kept flashing in front of his eyes again and again - "all foreign military or intelligence forces, determined by the Gurantor, shall be asked to leave the Federation of Lauchenoiria." With that single sentence, everything he'd hoped to get out of these negotiations fell apart right in front of him. He tried to stay composed, to register nothing more than professional disappointment - as opposed to the awful, bone-deep horror he actually felt. Images kept flashing in front of his eyes - the burning police station in Melissa City: Dr Antonin with a bag over his head: dead bodies on the floor of an abandoned building in Melissa City. When he'd let these things happen, they'd felt justified -it all had to happen, he'd told himself, if any good was to come of this awful war. But now, with Operation Counterpoint's designs on Conternia foiled, with all his efforts rendered void, he couldn't stop himself from feeling the weight of it all, of every single death. Innocents dead, his country's own agents betrayed, his own mentor disgraced - and for nothing. He coughed and composed himself, before rising and addressing the gathered diplomats.
"Good people of these great nations, I will be frank with you: I cannot pretend to be altogether satisfied with this outcome. I made it clear that I think a complete evacuation of Conternian troops from Lauchenoiria would be a mistake, and run counter to the country's best interests. Nonetheless, I acknowledge that, in this case, that is not Conternia's decision to make, and I wish to express my recognition of and respect for the decision that the Guarantor has reached, and would encourage all my fellow delegates to do the same."
He scanned the faces surrounding him, and saw, from what he could read on their poker faces, a general sense of scorn, an unspoken response of 'who do you think you're fooling?' to his apparent humility and graciousness. In days to come, Bloomberg would often think back on their expressions in that moment as the defining moment of his time as Prime Minister.
"I should also like to add", he continued, "that I am prepared to fully cooperate with the Truth and Reconciliation Committee's investigation. I applaud this effort to bring closure and justice to this war, and Conternia is willing to do anything it can to aid in their efforts."
With that, he sat down, and again scanned the crowd, but this time the face that stuck with him was that of Barrow, a few seats away from him: conspiratorial yet disapproving, in a manner that whispered "only I know what you did". For most of the people in this room, today represented an ending. Etan Bloomberg, however, felt as if his ordeal was just beginning.
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