NationStates Jolt Archive

Diplomatic Commissar Abdul Bin-Hasan was given one of the lowliest jobs a member of the Commissar of Diplomacy could receive. Abdul was in charge of a small operation, a little known operation. It was important, though, in order to keep relations in good order. This assignment was the State Visit to Shessara. While it was a assignment loathed by Halladi diplomats, the True Directorate had always continued it.

The Halladi-Shessaran conflict had made relations icy, to say the least. And that had occurred nearly three years ago. Since then the Halladi’s had been in a state not far from Cold War with the Shessaran nation. There was particular hatred between the late James Cross, and Braedd Laeryn, a Shessaran Prince. Laeryn had been the one to lead an army into Hallad, the one to kill civilians and ravage the city of Erse.

Now Abdul found himself in a SKA-1C helicopter. The SKA-1C was the transport variant of the SKA-1 “Rude Boy” helicopter, and was quite roomy. With Abdul were four men from the Diplomatic Guard, armed workers with basic training and a HAR-1A assault rifle. They would defend him if any trouble happened in Shessara.

The Commissar looked over his reports. There were graphs of all sorts: recent GDP growth, military movements, boarder guard numbers, and some domestic reports. He flipped through some papers and looked at the report labeled “Revolutionary Peasants in Shessara,” a paper detailing the socialist movement in Shessara. There was another labeled “Shessaran Immigration into Worker’s State, ” he skimmed through this one.

“Comrade.” One of the guards said.

The Commissar looked up. “Yes?”

“Do you think there will be any problems? I don’t want to get stuck in this… hellhole.”

Abdul smiled. “Don’t worry, comrade. We’ll be landing in a moment, I’m sure. The talks will only take a few hours, I’m sure.”

The man smiled and nodded.

Abdul was right; ironically the helicopter began to descend. It hovered in midair for a minute or so. The pilot was on the radio, informing the Shessarans of their arrival.

“This is CoD Helicopter 345, carrying Diplomatic Commissar Abdul Bin-Hasan of Hallad.” The pilot said, not asking the Shessarans for permission to land.

The helicopter moved forward, over the courtyard, and settled down. The side doors of the helicopter were opened and the Diplomatic Guards stepped out, their weapons were raised. Two men were on each side of the helicopter. Abdul came out, his two aids following. The helicopter then began to shut down, while Abdul awaited the Shessarans.

Braedd Laeryn sat on his mahogany throne, the dim red torch-light flickering over his fur-mantled shoulders in the spare, stone-walled room. He preferred this old, long-unused chamber to the larger audience hall built by his great-grandfather. Two women knelt next to him, cooing and running their hands and lips over his arms and legs where he sat. He paid them no more mind than he did the two ceremonially garbed knights who entered the chamber, wearing battlesuit jacks but not daring to bring their smoke-belching exoskeletons too far into the ancient halls of clan Laeryn.
Braedd stared straight into the elaborate tapestry on the far wall, his eyes hard and his thoughts harder. I will have that disgusting thing removed. Why have I not before? The thing in question was a beautifully-embroidered elaborate scene of Tarw Laeryn swearing fealty before a golden throne, upon which sat Cyrn Pendefigion, the whining traitor to his caste all called the Great Uniter. Braedd supposed his esteemed ancestor must have felt that the moment had been a great triumph for his clan, gaining as they did the great Princedom of Crastiroedd. Braedd saw it only as another part of the bastard Pendefigions and their goddamn arrogance.
The two knights entering the chamber approached, and knelt, one knee only, before Braedd, who did not even notice that the door had opened. One of the knights half-raised his head, saw Braedd's preoccupation, and gave a small fake cough, more a clearing of his throat, and winced in anticipatory pain.
Braedd's brown hair lashed the sides of his head as the massive Laeryn lord leaped to his feet, startling both women into flight.
"Did I not order I was not to be disturbed?!"
The knight who had coughed, taller than his companion, summoned up all his courage and ventured a reply. "My prince, you did specify that, yes."
Braedd irritably pulled his great gold-embroidered mantle around his bare chest. "Then why in the name of Satan himself are you here?"
The epithet, intended merely as a sign of his displeasure, had a greater effect on the Knights, both of whom paled at the invocation of a Christian deity. "You did specify, milord, that you were not to be disturbed... unless the Halladis arrived. Sir, they've arrived."
Braedd frowned. "Are the ceremonial guards arrayed?"
"As you commanded, milord."
Braedd didn't even listen to the reply, as he was already turned away and howling for hot water and for the women to return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the helicopter's blades died down, the ceremonial battle-armored guards, resplendant in heraldry of their individual clans, formed a straight line between the side-door of the helicopter and the great six-inch steel-reinforced oaken doors of the Grand Hall, which stood open.
A man in black-and-gold hurried down the line, smoothing down his ceremonial robes as he approached. "Greetings, sirs, welcome to Dinas Crastiroedd. I trust your trip was comfortable? I am Bardd, of the per-Laeryn, and I am honored to make your acquaintance." He seized Abdul's wrist and clasped it firmly in the Shessaran way. "Please accompany me."

“Umm, yes…” Abdul wasn’t yet comfortable with Shessaran customs, but he went along with the handshake. “Well, the trip was fine. As good as it can be in a military helicopter.”

“Comrade?” A guard asked.

Abdul looked over the man.

“Your orders?”

“Oh, umm…” He took a moment to think. “Stay with the helicopter.”

Abdul looked back at Bardd, who was still grasping him. “It is an honour to meet your acquaintance as well, comrade. And, of course, I’ll accompany you.”

Abdul followed the man. The Commissar was in full dress uniform, a thin olive drab military issue garb. It was converted for use in the Diplomatic Commissariat, but it looked very Soviet-esque over all. On the collar were various pins with stars, sickles and hammers, and the marching hammers.

The guards were unhappy with Bin-Hasan’s decision. They didn’t want to stay by the helicopter, but they followed their orders. The men went back into the helicopter, pulled up a makeshift table and played cards with the helicopter crew. They were playing poker and complaining about being in Shessara, for the most part.

Bardd led him to within twelve feet of the great doors. "Agorwch!" he cried, a sound that had the ring of ceremony. Slowly, ponderously, the great doors began to open, a clanking and clanging hinting at the existence of safe-like bars and wheels. Inside, the hall was magnificent. The delegation advanced down an elaborate, broad crimson carpet stretching down the center of the room. Near the door began the tail of a gold dragon, which sprawled down the carpet to where the head sat upon the high dais, in front of the great mahogany throne, which stood empty. On the shelf-like steps leading down in a semicircle from the throne stood six Knights, all in ceremonial field plate rather than Suits, and wearing only swords. The massive galleries along the sides of the halls were filled with men and women in the colors and heraldry of Shessaran aristocracy. As the delegation crossed the threshold, the great doors closed ponderously behind them, the repeated noises indicating the sealing of the locks. Overhead, the ceiling shone down upon them with yellow electric light from three great chandeliers.

The crowd hushed suddenly as a trumpet blared, and three others took up the pattern, in a complicated and complex fanfare that lasted almost a minute. Finally the initial trumpeter ceased, cleared his throat, and cried: "His Highness, the Prince of Crastiroedd, Maelgadd of the Realm of Shessara, Pennaeth of Clan Laeryn, bychan-Pennaeth of the ddiw-Laeryn, Argylwydd Caer Rhydhw, Argylwydd Caer Twr, Argylwydd Far Ddewr, Argylwydd Dinas Crastiroedd, Rhi Caer Carwych, Rhi Caer Lychan-." The man paused, drew a deep breath, and continued- "Rhi Caer Cwll, Rhi Caer Llorwen, Rhi Caer Gwynne, Unben Caer Lloroch, Unben Caer Glenwydd, Unben Caer Brach, Unben Caer Rhychor, Lord Most High of the Council of Twelve of Crastiroedd, Lord Most High of the Council of the Realm, and Lord Most High of the Council of Princes- His Majesty, Mael Braedd Laeryn!"

A door on the right side of the throne opened, swinging back with a horrific crash! that seemed to dent the stone it struck, and two Knights marched through, taking up positions on either side of the portal. Towering, frowning, the aforementioned aristocrat entered the chamber. He was garbed in full armor, unadorned save for the black studs of Battlesuit jack points. He wore a long, sweeping fur cloak with a ruff around his shoulders that lent him an even wilder look. His long hair was thrown back, secured with a narrow band of leather, and from this strip hung a small, black, oval stone, streaked with gold. On either side Laeryn was accompanied by robed women, both of whom stayed very close to him. He seemed not to even notice their existence.
Crossing to the great throne, he sat down heavily, as if he had not for weeks. Looking up, he growled softly. "So. You're the Halladi."

Abdul was mildly impressed by the Shessarans. Their big show seemed to be an over done attempt to impress the Halladi, but Abdul never liked these types of things. It all seemed a bit phony to him. But, the spectacle was rather humorous to watch. Bin-Hasan was glad that the Knights were not in their combat armour, less he’d be coughing his lounges up by now. He absolutely hated the pollution machines that the Shessarans used for “protect” themselves. The Commissar believed that if they truly believed in “honour” they would engage each other in battle like Halladis.

What really put the Commissar off was the list of titles. It was over done and bourgeois. He’d visited his share of Monarchies, but this seemed ridiculous. No other nation had gone to such lengths to impress a Diplomatic Commissar, 3rd Class.

As Laeryn sat, Abdul moved before him. Laeyrn hulked over Abdul, and he reckoned the Shessaran was attempting to make himself appear superior to the Halladi. But, Abdul would have none of it. The Halladi approached the Shessaran, walking with a sense of elegance, and he did not make any gesture recognizing the Shessaran’s rank.

Abdul merely removed his cap when he stopped before Laeryn.

“I am Abdul Bin-Hasan, Diplomatic Commissar – 3rd Class – here on behalf of the Federated Workers’ State of Hallad. And, yes, I am the Halladi. I take it you are the Shessaran? Well, tt is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He said clearly and in English.

One corner of Laeryn's mouth curled in a definite sneer. "You are the best that your misnamed 'federation' could supply? Kneel when a Prince addresses you!" He gestured and the entire contingent of Knights bowed from the waist, clasping their fists to their chests, and every one sank to one knee, and some to two, dependent on their rank. All looked respectful. The Prince rose from his throne, and his mantle swung around him, subtly adding to his intimidating figure.
The crowd, those that were seated, immediately leapt to their feet and bowed or curtsied. Braedd's attendants dropped and kissed the floor.
"You see, Halladi? It is not so hard." Braedd's face did not change one small bit.

"This is a state visit and diplomatic council, not a display of theatrics. I will treat you with the respect I would give any other man. I will not bow before you, and I expect to be treated with the respect of any guest in your household." The Commissar said, glaring at the so-called prince.

Abdul took off his cap, to show his respects to Laeryn.

"Now, what exactly is our itinerary?"

"Another man, Halladi. I am a Prince!" Braedd frowned. "You will do well to remember that."
He sat down and leaned back in the chair, the two women artfully draping themselves over him. "You were to talk about Halladi-Shessaran trade, and then the guns on the border. Speak now, before I grow tired."

This man has to be kidding himself! Abdul thought to himself.

This is not standard procedure! How can I work in these conditions? They want me to bow before them. "Talk before I grow tired," who does this bastard think he his? Above me or something?

Abdul tried to keep his rage inside of him.

"Yes, about that... Halladi-Shessaran trade is," He shuffled through some pappers, "At an all time high, it looks like. Shessaran traders frequently cross the Halladi boarder to trade with the soldiers there, and the collective farmers. We feel this is good for relations on the personal level. And, it circulates items not available in Hallad to the Halladi People. We want to relax the laws on movement in between the Halladi-Shessaran boarder to increase the activity there.

"Of course, we're not sure if Shessara is willing to relax their laws on leaving the nation."

Braedd smiled thinly. "I'd rather you shot the bastards that tried to cross without the Princes' permission. Serfs are dangerous folk, Halladi. They're like rabid dogs- give them a hand and they'll take the whole arm."
He gestured, and a woman who had been kneeling behind his throne, wearing not much more than several huge pieces of jewelry, ran over and knelt before Abdul. "This is Maghydwen. She was once the wife of Argylwydd Caer Rhyddaw, and child of my father. She tried to leave in the way you describe, and was captured by her righteously angered husband. He saw fit to make her bondswoman, and sold her to me. Apparently I have some... reputation with women." He smiled, deadly and quick, without a trace of humor. The two women at his side shrank away. "Greet him, Maghydwen."
The woman rose to her feet slowly, a truly beautiful daughter of the Laeryn Clan, with Braedd's looks feminized in a face as fierce, but not frenzied. She reluctantly leaned forward and clasped his arm, swinging her hips in a most provocative fashion. "I am... yours, milord." The hate on her face was apparent, even hidden behind false obedience and civility.
Something crunched against Abdul's arm, and a small piece of paper found its way up his sleeve, rasping against his watch. "My lord, if you need me, I shall be outside your quarters here tonight."
Staring murder, she backed away, and Laeryn dismissed her with one hand. She fled the room.
"A temper, but she will learn," Laeryn said absently.