imported_Hegxzylpt
18-01-2004, 08:37
His secretary’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “He’s just coming in, sir.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Consul Henry Geckos-Utley rubbed his hands together with glee. Make sure we’ve got plenty of mead available.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Consul stood up and strode out of the capital building. He joined a few senators and, after exchanging a few pleasantries, looked around. The police had cleared the streets earlier, and some slaves had hung up a banner reading, in some Dwarvish tongue, “Hegxzylpt welcomes Corti!!! May our friendship last forever!!!!!” He nodded, pleased that they had put in the proper number of exclamation points. That was important. On top of a building, he caught a flash of a careless sniper and made a note to get the man’s name later.
Just now, though, the man’s - correction, dwarf’s – escort had arrived. As the car pulled up, a few of the Senators strained to get a look. They knew this dwarf sponsored an organization called PEACE, and that Utley had pledged his support for this organization. The Consul grinned. The fools thought this might mark a change in the Republic. All it meant, though, was another reason to start wars. Wars meant more land and more people, which meant more money and more power. That was the important thing.
He peered curiously at the little thing getting out of the car. The two bodyguards who preceded him were what he thought of as proper dwarves, short and stocky with full beards. They even had small axes hanging on their belts. The king himself, though, was short even as dwarves went and very thin; he had a scraggly beard, little glasses, and (he noticed as Unoc started walking towards him) a pronounced limp. Up to this point, he’d only had the picture from the broadcast to go by. He hid a grimace. It had been very hard to find any information about this man. Corti had sealed its borders five generations before, under the reign of Mad King Thumli, who slaughtered the elves in his kingdom and blinded half his population. And those were dwarvish generations, so no one could be sure what had happened since then. The nation had practically vanished to the upper world, with no contact whatsoever. But for some reason, this king had changed that.
Utley put on an enthusiastic grin and ran down to overwhelm him. “King Pol, King Pol,” he said excitedly, “What an honor to finally meet you. Carrie, Carrie, bring some mead for our guest. Mead. We have some excellent mead here, Your Majesty. Not that I touch alcohol myself, one would be one too many, you know.” He laughed aloud. “But it’s traditional, you see. So have some.” Carrie came running up with a glass, which Utley shoved into the king’s hand. Unoc seemed about to speak, but Utley plowed on. “It is such a great honor, an honor, yes, to have a nation as great as your nation visit us. Why,” he elbowed him in the ribs, hard, “I would go so far as to say that you dwarf us, eh? Haha.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Consul Henry Geckos-Utley rubbed his hands together with glee. Make sure we’ve got plenty of mead available.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Consul stood up and strode out of the capital building. He joined a few senators and, after exchanging a few pleasantries, looked around. The police had cleared the streets earlier, and some slaves had hung up a banner reading, in some Dwarvish tongue, “Hegxzylpt welcomes Corti!!! May our friendship last forever!!!!!” He nodded, pleased that they had put in the proper number of exclamation points. That was important. On top of a building, he caught a flash of a careless sniper and made a note to get the man’s name later.
Just now, though, the man’s - correction, dwarf’s – escort had arrived. As the car pulled up, a few of the Senators strained to get a look. They knew this dwarf sponsored an organization called PEACE, and that Utley had pledged his support for this organization. The Consul grinned. The fools thought this might mark a change in the Republic. All it meant, though, was another reason to start wars. Wars meant more land and more people, which meant more money and more power. That was the important thing.
He peered curiously at the little thing getting out of the car. The two bodyguards who preceded him were what he thought of as proper dwarves, short and stocky with full beards. They even had small axes hanging on their belts. The king himself, though, was short even as dwarves went and very thin; he had a scraggly beard, little glasses, and (he noticed as Unoc started walking towards him) a pronounced limp. Up to this point, he’d only had the picture from the broadcast to go by. He hid a grimace. It had been very hard to find any information about this man. Corti had sealed its borders five generations before, under the reign of Mad King Thumli, who slaughtered the elves in his kingdom and blinded half his population. And those were dwarvish generations, so no one could be sure what had happened since then. The nation had practically vanished to the upper world, with no contact whatsoever. But for some reason, this king had changed that.
Utley put on an enthusiastic grin and ran down to overwhelm him. “King Pol, King Pol,” he said excitedly, “What an honor to finally meet you. Carrie, Carrie, bring some mead for our guest. Mead. We have some excellent mead here, Your Majesty. Not that I touch alcohol myself, one would be one too many, you know.” He laughed aloud. “But it’s traditional, you see. So have some.” Carrie came running up with a glass, which Utley shoved into the king’s hand. Unoc seemed about to speak, but Utley plowed on. “It is such a great honor, an honor, yes, to have a nation as great as your nation visit us. Why,” he elbowed him in the ribs, hard, “I would go so far as to say that you dwarf us, eh? Haha.”