12-24-2020, 11:44 PM
Stepping through the door away from the main floor of the conference center and into the corridors and conference rooms that the Laeralian delegation had occupied was always a tremendous relief for Alexandre Herault. Out on the main floor, where his boss and the other “front-facing” Laeralites were circulating between the delegations, Alexandre always felt a prickly, itchy sensation that he was being scrutinized. With so many foreign visitors in attendance, and so many pairs of eyes shooting glances at the young man with the ear of President Liu, Alexandre couldn’t help but feel judged. Evaluated. Monitored.
It had always been that way; being an upstart young person trying to break into Laeralian politics with no connections had been one thing when he’d been on the staff of a junior member of the Neidong provincial legislature and quite another when that legislator had ended up becoming President of the Allied Provinces of Laeral. Now that he was out of the spotlight and no one was watching, he didn’t have to fidget with his tie or worry about his posture for the cameras. He could break into a brisk walk, or loosen his tie just a little on his way to check in on the negotiators’ progress. He took a sip from his to-go cup of an extravagantly sugared coffee confection as he scanned his security badge to enter the negotiators’ main room in the back of the conference center.
“Drop your phone in the box!” a Foreign Ministry staffer called to him from where she was in a huddle with two other bureaucrats. “It’s policy. No leaks from here.”
Alexandre took out his Hirondelle smartphone and set it in the bin by the door, as the staffer, an older Arrivée woman, rushed over. “Now who are you?” she said. “You must be new; I’m Agathe Morvan, from the Foreign Ministry.”
“Alexandre Herault,” Alexandre said.
Alexandre saw the moment that her eyes went wide, and she seemed to look the younger man up and down, as if surprised that the president’s chief of staff was less than a decade out from grad school. “Oh!” she said. “Terribly sorry, Monsieur Herault. I’m sorry, I didn’t get a good look at you.”
“No worries,” Alexandre said. He was being sincere; it happened all the time. “And please, call me Alexandre. I’m just here to check in on your team’s progress on the draft agreement.”
“Well,” Agathe said, “we’ve been coordinating the wants of the different delegations in our draft language, and we’re expecting to have a completed first draft by tonight. If you take a look at our preparations here…” she gestured to the whiteboards set up around the perimeter of the room, each with headings labelled with a country’s name or a topic like “Canal” or “POWs.”
“Looks good,” Alexandre said. “Can I get a draft to show the president?”
Agathe’s brow furrowed for a moment at this, before reaching over to one of the work tables pushed up against the wall and grabbing a few papers. “It’s in a rough state, but this reflects our progress as of about an hour ago. We’ve addressed all of the priorities the president and Minister Misra mentioned, and Ambassador Lin okay’ed an earlier version of this draft. Vice-Minister Zhu was talking with the Iskiram nobles for several hours earlier, so I’m hoping to hear from him soon.”
Alexandre glanced down at the papers, now over eight pages long, annotated with notes in two different languages and several different sets of handwriting. “This looks very impressive. The president has a lot of confidence in your team; I’m glad it’s being borne out.”
“Thank you,” Agathe said. “I just noticed that this copy is a little cluttered with all the notes. Do you want me to print off a clean one?”
Behind Alexandre, the door swung open again, and a Foreign Ministry staffer Alexandre vaguely recognized rushed in, weaving around the tables and one cluster of staffers to join another group in a rushed discussion over Manauia Island.
Alexandre shook his head. “No, this is great. Knowing the president, she’ll want to see one fresh from the drafting room. I’ll get this out to her and report back with her thoughts.”
A moment later, he was back outside in the hallways of the Jinyu Conference Center, eight pages of the draft agreement placed inside a policy folder, on his way back outside into the public eye. He tightened his tie once again on the way out.
It had always been that way; being an upstart young person trying to break into Laeralian politics with no connections had been one thing when he’d been on the staff of a junior member of the Neidong provincial legislature and quite another when that legislator had ended up becoming President of the Allied Provinces of Laeral. Now that he was out of the spotlight and no one was watching, he didn’t have to fidget with his tie or worry about his posture for the cameras. He could break into a brisk walk, or loosen his tie just a little on his way to check in on the negotiators’ progress. He took a sip from his to-go cup of an extravagantly sugared coffee confection as he scanned his security badge to enter the negotiators’ main room in the back of the conference center.
“Drop your phone in the box!” a Foreign Ministry staffer called to him from where she was in a huddle with two other bureaucrats. “It’s policy. No leaks from here.”
Alexandre took out his Hirondelle smartphone and set it in the bin by the door, as the staffer, an older Arrivée woman, rushed over. “Now who are you?” she said. “You must be new; I’m Agathe Morvan, from the Foreign Ministry.”
“Alexandre Herault,” Alexandre said.
Alexandre saw the moment that her eyes went wide, and she seemed to look the younger man up and down, as if surprised that the president’s chief of staff was less than a decade out from grad school. “Oh!” she said. “Terribly sorry, Monsieur Herault. I’m sorry, I didn’t get a good look at you.”
“No worries,” Alexandre said. He was being sincere; it happened all the time. “And please, call me Alexandre. I’m just here to check in on your team’s progress on the draft agreement.”
“Well,” Agathe said, “we’ve been coordinating the wants of the different delegations in our draft language, and we’re expecting to have a completed first draft by tonight. If you take a look at our preparations here…” she gestured to the whiteboards set up around the perimeter of the room, each with headings labelled with a country’s name or a topic like “Canal” or “POWs.”
“Looks good,” Alexandre said. “Can I get a draft to show the president?”
Agathe’s brow furrowed for a moment at this, before reaching over to one of the work tables pushed up against the wall and grabbing a few papers. “It’s in a rough state, but this reflects our progress as of about an hour ago. We’ve addressed all of the priorities the president and Minister Misra mentioned, and Ambassador Lin okay’ed an earlier version of this draft. Vice-Minister Zhu was talking with the Iskiram nobles for several hours earlier, so I’m hoping to hear from him soon.”
Alexandre glanced down at the papers, now over eight pages long, annotated with notes in two different languages and several different sets of handwriting. “This looks very impressive. The president has a lot of confidence in your team; I’m glad it’s being borne out.”
“Thank you,” Agathe said. “I just noticed that this copy is a little cluttered with all the notes. Do you want me to print off a clean one?”
Behind Alexandre, the door swung open again, and a Foreign Ministry staffer Alexandre vaguely recognized rushed in, weaving around the tables and one cluster of staffers to join another group in a rushed discussion over Manauia Island.
Alexandre shook his head. “No, this is great. Knowing the president, she’ll want to see one fresh from the drafting room. I’ll get this out to her and report back with her thoughts.”
A moment later, he was back outside in the hallways of the Jinyu Conference Center, eight pages of the draft agreement placed inside a policy folder, on his way back outside into the public eye. He tightened his tie once again on the way out.