03-19-2023, 05:36 PM
The First Minister was not a diplomat, at least, not in any conventional sense of the word. A trained chemist, with a bolt-on degree of public policy, his ascension to the highest office was somewhat unexpected. As Edmund Dell had proven time and again, however, it was certainly well justified. A veritable guru at coordinating his cabinet and their staff, and winning the last election for his party in an absolute landslide, he certainly had a mandate to his position of power. Now all he had to do was wield it.
"Alrighty, so that's... Bow, shake hands... Bow, before nodding... Move on, and then bow again?"
The exasperated protocol officer gave a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, before correcting the politician. "No, First Minister. Bow, and then it's just a slight downward nod while you shake hands, then you can move on right away."
Incredulously, Dell muttered under his breath. "Give me strength... Which one of you in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs did I piss off, again? What's stopping us from just going down to Garden Valley, and getting it over with? I mean, really, what is the purpose of this inane time-wasting ritual?" A genuine look of curiosity spread across the man's face, as the car slowly came to a halt.
"I'm afraid the lesson on the history and nuances of diplomatic protocol will have to wait for another time, First Minister. We've arrived."
This time, it was Dr. Dell's turn to sigh, as he stepped out of the vehicle. Taking a moment to straighten his dark blue tie, readjust his cuffs, and button his suit jacket, he was then greeted by the man that would be the most crucial element in ensuring this conference succeeded. Dr. Claus Rainer took the First Minister's hand with a reassuring smile, and a confident shake.
"Hello, First Minister. Are you ready to get started?" As the pair began to walk towards the awaiting delegation, Dell nodded, his well-practiced false smile shining through.
"Oh, and remember, Edmund: bow, shake, nod." With a barely-audible whisper, Rainer gave the slightest of winks, and the First Minister resisted the urge to scream.
---
19 March 2023, 9:29 AM
Telefar, Cyanth, Novella Islands
Telefar International Airport, out on the apron
"First Minister," the protocol officer stood at attention, before continuing, announcing the credentials of the Xiomeran delegation, "Ms. Illochin, Assistant Minister of State for Caxcanan Affairs."
The day was overcast, and with little sunlight shining through the clouds, the scene had a dull and muted colour palette. A pleasantly cool breeze swept across the tarmac where the gaggle of officials were congregating, and time stood still as the First Minister thought to himself. Bowing, shaking, and nodding on cue, before moving on, all on autopilot.
Why did we offer to host these meetings? What went through Rivers' mind? Not to mention the minds of her staffers...
Dr. Justina Rivers, the political head of all things foreign affairs, stood behind Dell in the line of Novellan delegates. She herself was wearing her best diplomatic smile, perfectly calibrated for the greatest effect on the foreign dignitaries.
It's not like Manabí Rive has anything of value to offer us. And don't get me started on the Xiomerans... The furthest we stay from their affairs, the better off we will be.
Another bow, another handshake, another nod. Just like clockwork.
This whole debacle is going collapse in on itself, unless the redlines for both parties can be moved... But truly, I'm no diplomat. Can I even get either of them to budge?
The First Minister racked his brain, pondering the hundreds - thousands - of possible avenues and outcomes the conference could take. With the hand of a rather imposingly tall Xiomeran in his own, head stooped, the bigger picture began to form. Shooting the quickest of glances towards Rainer before moving on to the next Xiomeran delegate, it all finally made sense.
I suppose the real threat is the larger conflict that would ensue - no doubt dragging the Novella Islands in - should the UCS accept the Manabí, before Calhualyana could fully retake--
His thoughts were cut short, however, as that very name in particular was spoken aloud by the protocol officer, piercing his stalwart concentration.
"Her Majesty Calhualyana, Empress of Xiomera and all Huenya, Guardian of Catexco, Protector of Antepec, Defender of Chuacamix, Mistress of the South Xiomeran Sea, and Great Speaker of all Xiomerans."
At last, the pair stood face to face.
He had read her dossier more than a dozen times. The one his own office delivered at the very last minute, much to the detriment of Dell's sleep that night. The one the Foreign Affairs forwarded, in arduously extensive official detail. The top-secret one sent by Intelligence, with everything Foreign Affairs couldn't have possibly known. Finally, of course, there was the one that the Xiomerans themselves had provided; the perfectly crafted image they wanted everyone to see.
Nothing prepared the First Minister for this moment.
The bow. The handshake. The nod.
"Empress. I sincerely welcome you to the Social Republic of the Novella Islands. Your presence honours us all, and I do hope you will find our hospitality to be to your utmost satisfaction."
The moment of realisation washed over him, and any tension he had previously felt dissolved in that instant. The First Minister's voice was perfectly polite and steadily measured, his false smile replaced with a genuine one, and all the while, his eyes remained locked onto hers.
This is not diplomacy. This is politics.
And Edmund Dell is a master politician.
"Alrighty, so that's... Bow, shake hands... Bow, before nodding... Move on, and then bow again?"
The exasperated protocol officer gave a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, before correcting the politician. "No, First Minister. Bow, and then it's just a slight downward nod while you shake hands, then you can move on right away."
Incredulously, Dell muttered under his breath. "Give me strength... Which one of you in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs did I piss off, again? What's stopping us from just going down to Garden Valley, and getting it over with? I mean, really, what is the purpose of this inane time-wasting ritual?" A genuine look of curiosity spread across the man's face, as the car slowly came to a halt.
"I'm afraid the lesson on the history and nuances of diplomatic protocol will have to wait for another time, First Minister. We've arrived."
This time, it was Dr. Dell's turn to sigh, as he stepped out of the vehicle. Taking a moment to straighten his dark blue tie, readjust his cuffs, and button his suit jacket, he was then greeted by the man that would be the most crucial element in ensuring this conference succeeded. Dr. Claus Rainer took the First Minister's hand with a reassuring smile, and a confident shake.
"Hello, First Minister. Are you ready to get started?" As the pair began to walk towards the awaiting delegation, Dell nodded, his well-practiced false smile shining through.
"Oh, and remember, Edmund: bow, shake, nod." With a barely-audible whisper, Rainer gave the slightest of winks, and the First Minister resisted the urge to scream.
---
19 March 2023, 9:29 AM
Telefar, Cyanth, Novella Islands
Telefar International Airport, out on the apron
"First Minister," the protocol officer stood at attention, before continuing, announcing the credentials of the Xiomeran delegation, "Ms. Illochin, Assistant Minister of State for Caxcanan Affairs."
The day was overcast, and with little sunlight shining through the clouds, the scene had a dull and muted colour palette. A pleasantly cool breeze swept across the tarmac where the gaggle of officials were congregating, and time stood still as the First Minister thought to himself. Bowing, shaking, and nodding on cue, before moving on, all on autopilot.
Why did we offer to host these meetings? What went through Rivers' mind? Not to mention the minds of her staffers...
Dr. Justina Rivers, the political head of all things foreign affairs, stood behind Dell in the line of Novellan delegates. She herself was wearing her best diplomatic smile, perfectly calibrated for the greatest effect on the foreign dignitaries.
It's not like Manabí Rive has anything of value to offer us. And don't get me started on the Xiomerans... The furthest we stay from their affairs, the better off we will be.
Another bow, another handshake, another nod. Just like clockwork.
This whole debacle is going collapse in on itself, unless the redlines for both parties can be moved... But truly, I'm no diplomat. Can I even get either of them to budge?
The First Minister racked his brain, pondering the hundreds - thousands - of possible avenues and outcomes the conference could take. With the hand of a rather imposingly tall Xiomeran in his own, head stooped, the bigger picture began to form. Shooting the quickest of glances towards Rainer before moving on to the next Xiomeran delegate, it all finally made sense.
I suppose the real threat is the larger conflict that would ensue - no doubt dragging the Novella Islands in - should the UCS accept the Manabí, before Calhualyana could fully retake--
His thoughts were cut short, however, as that very name in particular was spoken aloud by the protocol officer, piercing his stalwart concentration.
"Her Majesty Calhualyana, Empress of Xiomera and all Huenya, Guardian of Catexco, Protector of Antepec, Defender of Chuacamix, Mistress of the South Xiomeran Sea, and Great Speaker of all Xiomerans."
At last, the pair stood face to face.
He had read her dossier more than a dozen times. The one his own office delivered at the very last minute, much to the detriment of Dell's sleep that night. The one the Foreign Affairs forwarded, in arduously extensive official detail. The top-secret one sent by Intelligence, with everything Foreign Affairs couldn't have possibly known. Finally, of course, there was the one that the Xiomerans themselves had provided; the perfectly crafted image they wanted everyone to see.
Nothing prepared the First Minister for this moment.
The bow. The handshake. The nod.
"Empress. I sincerely welcome you to the Social Republic of the Novella Islands. Your presence honours us all, and I do hope you will find our hospitality to be to your utmost satisfaction."
The moment of realisation washed over him, and any tension he had previously felt dissolved in that instant. The First Minister's voice was perfectly polite and steadily measured, his false smile replaced with a genuine one, and all the while, his eyes remained locked onto hers.
This is not diplomacy. This is politics.
And Edmund Dell is a master politician.