NationStates Jolt Archive

"Goddammit. Do we really have to do it?"

Nemirovsky frowned. "No, Martha. But we need to, if we want to open up better trade relations with the outside world. Trust me, I like this no more than you do - but if we want more money for Allanea, more jobs for the people... yes, it has to be done."

Martha frowned. "But, Boss..."

"Just type it."



From: Alexei Nemirovsky, U.S.D.O.S.
To: Count Dragomir Volodov
Subject: Negotiations.

Dear Sir!

For the last few years, the Grand Duchy has refused to grant diplomatic recognition to the United States Government, after our withdrawal from the Treaty of the Wolf. You may be happy to know that the current Administration believes the withdrawal from the Treaty has been a mistake. We are willing to negotiate our re-entry into the treaty, and other conditions that would allow for resuming of diplomatic relations of our two nations.

As such, I request a meeting with your Highness in the building of the Taraskovyan embassy in Knootoss to discuss these issue.

Alexei Fyodorovich Nemirovsky,
GS-6 Clerk, United States Department of State

The letter, neither encrypted nor bearing any “keywords” of Grand Ducal or allied origin, is not transmitted directly to the Ambassador, but instead to the terminal of his secretary (after all, a Taraskovyan Ambassador is busy enough to waste time on random e-mails). The woman, frowning at the name of the source, opened it quite reluctantly, reading it through, the frown etching even further upon her face as she reached for the intercom.

“Pan Ambassador, I have received a message from an Allanean representative to Knootoss, inviting you to negotiate the Allanean re-entry into the Treaty of Port-Allanea. Should I forward it to you or should I delete it?”

“Interesting… forward it to me.”

In his office, Count Volodov arched an eye brow as he read through the message. He smiled thinly and shook his head, setting off to type a response.

From: Count Dragomir Volodov
To: Alexei Nemirovsky
Subject: Re: Negotiations.

Sir,

Your letter and the consequent invitation have intrigued me. While it is heartening to learn that the new “authorities” of Allanea are proving of greater wisdom than their predecessors, I do, however, have to inform you that I am skeptical the Grand Duchy shall want to accept the revival of the Treaty of Port-Allanea. Indeed, my country is more than content with the current state of affairs and I, personally, fail to see what offer of yours could sway that opinion.

Regardless, I shall take the personal initiative of hearing what you have to say on the matter. As such, I expect that you understand that our talks might not have any official suite and are subject to remaining at personal level. For these reasons, the Embassy building is ill suited for the task. Instead, I offer to meet at the Kurzaal Restaurant, which is in the Kurhaus Hotel. Unfortunately, today my schedule is full, so I offer to meet tomorrow at three in the afternoon.

Looking forward to our meeting,
Count Dragomir Volodov,
Grand Duke’s Ambassador to Knootoss

Nemirovsky was never quite the typical Allanean. It is difficult to achieve success in the Department of State when you're a typical Allanean. As such, it would be rather unlikely that the young man would be recognised by anybody as an Allanean as he made his way towards the Kurzaal Restaurant, thirty minutes earlier then the time agreed upon with count Dragomir Volodov - it would not do any good to be late, and of course the people above him would not like it if his 'private initiative' failed.

As he stood before the entrance to the Kurzaal, he flipped open a silvery-colored cellphone, poking several keys on it impatiently. It turned on, dialing and international number. Somewhere in the Greater Prussian Bay, in Jefferson-city, a phone rang.

"State Department. How can I help?"

"Cut the horsesh*t, Mike. It's me, Sasha. You're not going to believe it, but I have made it thus far. I am actually meeting this Volodov fellow in about half an hour from now."

"Riiiiight."- the voice on the other side sounded sceptical, maybe even sarcastic. "Lemme guess, you want a raise?"

Alexei chuckled. "Not for me. Do you think the President will be able to insert some nice money clauses into a Tarasovka Diplomatic Channels Re-Openining Act?"

"Umm. I think the main controversy will be about there being a Tarasovka Diplomatic Channels Re-Openining Act in the first place, you see. If we can get the Repubs and Libs to swallow this, the money is minor."

"True, that. Haven't really thought of it this way myself though. You're a smart one, Mike."

"Not really. I just watch the Senate and take notice. Can't really blame anybody for not keeping track of their stupidity."

"Okay. Well, thank you for your time, Mike. Don't want to be still on the phone when this Volodov arrives."

"Point, there. Good luck, buddy. Make us proud."

"I will."

Nemirovsky slapped the phone shut, then began to straighten out his expensive Knootian tie. By the time Count Volodov would arrive, he would have to look as straight and sharp as he could humanly manage.

He was already pretty sharp already, of course - a Reichskamphian suit, a tie, a watch from Mangala, a respectable Midlonian aspect, a small Allanean flag pinned to the lapel of his jacket, a pair of really nice shoes (from a maker known as Freedom in Walking, Inc.), and haircut that cost more then some people's entire clothing made a man that could just as easily participate in an Oscar ceremony as in the 'private initiative' he had offered Volodov.

Maybe Volodov would begin to wonder just how 'private' the initiative really was.

Then again, this was kind of the point of choosing an outfit like this.

The Kurzaal was, as always, full of the most respectable customers, like Knootian and foreign businessmen discussing plans, various dignitaries having a little talk over dinner. At a table several men and women dressed into casual suits were sharing a talk in Dutch over what appeared to be a business lunch. It would have appeared as everything was going on as planned, and the people were chatting happily, raising toasts from time to time.

At another table, a young man was surely trying to impress a beautiful girl by inviting her to one of the classiest restaurants available. The couple seemed to be entirely taken in each other, chatting about something. All in all, there were quite many customers in the hall, and all of them just highlighted the particular status of the restaurant.

The Taraskovyan Ambassador arrived strictly on time, neither earlier nor later, walking into the restaurant dressed not into his Ambassadorial uniform, but into a casual suit. He asked the majordomo something in Dutch, the man motioning in the direction of the table by which Nemirovsky was already seated.

Volodov directed himself to it, nodding his head politely to the Allanean in sign of greeting, neither happiness nor disdain on his calm face.

“Pan Nemirovsky, I presume?”

The Ambassador appeared to be in his fifties, his brown hair untouched by grey, yet his eyes reflecting the wisdom and knowledge accumulated during his diplomatic career. The Ambassador did not appear as somebody quite composed, not victim to random laughter, but more to a serious talk on any issue.

Nemirovsky gave the Ambassador a beaming polite smile. "Your presumption is absolutely correct, Sir. I would presume, myself, that I have the honor to converse with the honorable Count Volodov. Is that correct, Sir?

He was still smiling as he said that. It required no effort - Alexei was truly happy with the way this evening was unfolding. He liked the fact his plans were coming together neatly, that his career was going to advance, that he was dining in an expensive restaurant paid for by the DOS, that he was surrounded by businesspeopole and amourous couples, that it was a good day with good weather and that his suit was just every bit as comfortable as the tailor promised him it would be.

Such, he mused, is a nature of happiness. When you're having a good day, it seems you view everything through rose-colored glasses - especially if you're feeling good because of an important life-shaping event that has turned out to shape life in your favor, for a change - perhaps too philosophic for a public servant, but then, Alexei Fyodorovich was the philosophic type.

He nodded cheerfully at the waiter as the latter stood patiently at the table with two menus - one for him and one for Volodov. "Oh, and here is our waiter, Count. I suggest that we do not make him wait for us to decide, and rather have him wait to us, don't you think, Sir?" - he smirked at his own joke and began to make out a modest order.

The Count’s face showed no sign of smile at the young man’s joke as the Ambassador picked his order. Handing the card back to the waiter, Volodov looked at his interlocutor, arching an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” he said mysteriously before continuing. “Now, Pan Nemirovsky, I am curious as to what you have to say on the matter of our… talks.”

Dragomir paused again, looking the Allanean over. As his face remained composed, a thought ran through his mind. What is it that the Allaneans have to offer if they send in a youngster? Yet, none of it, for obvious reasons, was said aloud.

“I have briefly checked current state of affairs in Allanean politics on the idea of renegotiating with my country and, I fear, it is quite negative indeed. And then I receive an invitation to “negotiate” from a young man that acts on a personal initiative.” The Ambassador narrowed his eyes a little as he looked at Alexei with curiousity. “Pardon me, but I need to know what side exactly you are representing in this matter. Is it some political party? A non-governmental movement or a commercial corporation? The President?”

Alexei did not even flinch at the suggestion. "Sir, I may only assume that your security personnel have prevented any eavesdropping on this meeting. If it is not, the consequences for me could be dire. Officially - on paper - this is my private initiative. It is not documented, nor does it exist on any official government papers. If anything goes wrong now, I am the only man who will bear responsibility - up to and including criminal incompetence charges. As to who I represent... well, consider this.

In the Senate, slightly over half the votes is controlled by a tenous alliance of Democrats and Hamiltonians, with a small influence of Ambivalentira. The same is true for Congress, but it is the Senate you should be interested in. The Republicans and Libertarians have long been frothing at the mouth regarding the foreign policy of President Klotchkovsky... it would not take them much to disrupt this majority in the fall elections, then elect a Republican come the Presidential election, if the news comes out that the President initiated negotiations with Tarasovka - and failed at them. By sending me... he gets the benefit of acting - and only accepting responsibility for the success."

The Ambassador nodded to the Allanean. “Worry not, Pan Nemirovsky, anything you say here concerns only me.” Dragomir paused for a second. “And I already have to compliment you on knowing the distrust Taraskovyans have in foreigners. But then again, those who are responsible for my security are only here for that, not for listening or talking.”

The Count grinned before continuing. “Well then, I am ready to hear what you have to say on the matter. But I hope you do understand that this talk shall have any consequences only if you have something interesting to offer to the Grand Duchy.”

"What we cam propose currently is a variety of economic benefits - money, technology, worker visas, contracts for Taraskovyan companies, and so forth, et cetera. We can also help you purchase a variety of colony ships on the Allanean market at a cheap rate subsidized by the United States Government."

Volodov listened calmly to what the Allanean had to offer and, to be truth, he was a little disappointed. Indeed, no truly interesting propositions, enough to sway public opinion, that of the Grand Duke and of the Parliament, came out so far.

“You see, Pan Nemirovsky, the Grand Duchy already has enough money. And, while it is true that money is never enough, you also understand that if the State suddenly receives a truly gigantic sum, for it shall expect nothing less, prices shall rise, causing inflation. And we like our inflation at its current one and a half percent.”

His eyes drifted quickly in the direction of the waiter who was carrying the dishes. The Ambassador paused, waiting for the man to finish setting them upon the table and then walk away.

“As of worker visas and contracts for our companies, whilst it might seem lucrative, but I fear Allanea, even if the Taraskovyan State restores ties with it, has secured itself a good reputation as a stable investment destination.”

Dragomir smiled politely as he seized a fork and tasted some of his food, finishing chewing before talking again. “As of technology, it might be interesting depending on what exactly Allanea has to offer. But we need no colony ships as our current capacities are more than enough.”

The Allanean smiled. “You are assuming the sum would have to be huge – and come in one piece. However, imagine a tribute – yes, let's call things by their names – that would be divided, and paid per annum, for, let's say, two hundred years. Let's say, for instance, fifty billion Universals per annum. This would allow you to cut taxes on your citizens, while retaining the level of services and security provided by the Grand Duchy government – essentially causing an economic explosion – I mean the positive kind of explosion, Sir.

“As per our status, I do have to disagree. While it is true that our government had so far reneged on a treaty – once, I notice – it is also true we have extensive trade ties with a variety of nations, and if the Mangalans trust us with their investments, I am sure the Taraskovyans can, too.”

He paused as he tasted his food for the first time. “Delicious. And as per technology – artificial wombs, rejuvenation clinics for the more, umm, socially advanced Taraskovyans, more armament technology – isn't Tarasovka using an Allanean-designed battle rifle for it's military to this very day? - foldspace/hyperdrive engines, chlorophusion... do I need to continue, Sir?”

“But then again, Sir, I am always open to counteroffers.”

“Whether it be in a tribute or not is of no importance. And inflation shall also rise in case of tax cuts, all is not so simple. It is true that your proposal would boost a… minor, developping economy, but I kindly remind you that the Grand Ducal economy is, by all means, one of the strongest there is. And the Government has to balance it carefully in order to avoid coolings or overheatings.” Dragomir said, frowning a little

“As of technology, why would Taraskovyans need rejuvenation when most live into the hundreds of years? You forgot our Taraskath blood, Pan Nemirovsky. And our medical technology is quite advanced indeed if some call us a Medical Dictatorship.” The Ambassador laughed lightly, before taking some more of his meal and chewing it. He swallowed the food before continuing. “Military technology might prove interesting, depending on what you have to offer. The ShV-144 is, indeed, a nice weapon for the Mechanized Infantry and the NGF, but the other branches of the Army use VerTech designed weapons which suit their needs much better. And the army is more than content with its new VerTech designed armour and other heavy toys.”

Volodov paused and smiled. “Do not think that I am trying to rebuke every single of your offers, Pan Nemirovksy. I am just anticipating the reaction of the opponents to the deal and, when it shall come to this, I assure you their counter arguments shall be more complete than mine.”

The Allanean nodded. “I fully understand that you do not wish to be hostile to my suggestion, dear Count. You don't even begin to realize how much I appreciate that, Sir. But still... I would think it would be nice of you to suggest, even if briefly, what kind of things the Grand Duchy of Tarasovka would want from the United States of Allanea.”

He dug into his food yet again, while pondering his response to Volodov. Then, all of a sudden, his head perked up again. “As per the ShV-144, I am glad to see your military is well-served by Allanean ingenuity. Perhaps what you need is Allanean training? After all, marksmanship is in our blood, and I am sure that with Allanea's national interest – possibly, you would say, it is a fixation – with weapons, their design and their use – we could teach you a few new tricks.” Nemirovsky smiled pleasantly to the Count. “As per the technologies – well, I am sure chlorophusion would prove beneficial to your industries, hyperfold drive would get you there faster, and don't get me started on the Hellbores... but I digress.”

Now, the Allanean was at his pleasantest – if this word is even proper English in the first place. He was nearly beaming.

“But, as I said, the main point here is about your offers. You say, Mr. Volodov, that the current United States offer would not bring you to recognise our legal standing. Well and good, but I cannot guess your wishes. Tell me, Sir, if my offer would not work - what do you think would? Give me your counteroffers, and I will carry them back to the President, and perhaps bring you back a Yes from the Senate.”

Volodov’s face remained calm as the Allanean committed quite a blunder. Taraskovyans had combat experience dating tens of thousands of years. Warfare was in the blood, in the mentality and even if the Grand Duchy negotiated, it always plotted behind the curtains on a possibility to backstab, to invade and plunder anything of use.

“Pan Nemirovksy, I would suggest you simply forget the very idea of offering the National Defence Forces training by Allaneans. Let us not forget that it took our army less than a night to… force Allanea into submission. Any such offer would simply make you fail at your endeavour and, I am sure, what you seek is a positive result.”

The Ambassador then plunged into reflections, wondering what it was that the Grand Duchy wanted. The Grand Duchy wanted to be left alone, surely, since it had no wish to restore ties with Allanea and was quite satisfied with the situation. As such, it was up to the Allaneans to come up with offers, not the Taraskovyans.

“Hmmm… well, there might be something the army will like. You see, if the National Defence Forces can be gotten on board, then it shall convince many of the skeptical ones. The Space Fleet is capable of deploying great numbers of men anywhere, but… having some form of logistical outposts ready to service an Expeditionary Force would come in handy should the Ground Force have a need to deploy many men over long distances.”

Dragomir paused and thought some more. Whatever the Grand Duchy could get from the Allaneans it could also get it elsewhere and it will get it elsewhere, because getting it from Allaneans would mean political suicide. As such, he decided to rest on that offer for now.

The Allanean grinned suddenly. “Why, but that's excellent! That'll cost my government much less to provide then anything else, dear Count. What we'll do is eminent-domain small amounts – well, comparatively small amounts in the Midlands and in Proggressive Hash, as well as sponsoring the construction of artificial islands in Southern Haven... you see where I am going with this, of course.”

Volodov nodded. “The army has enough outposts in Haven right now. However, other territories throughout the globe could be of interest to it. But let me make it clear – what they would want are sovereign territories, fully transferred to Grand Ducal authority. They would also have to be coastal, located in areas suitable for ports. Of course, territorial waters and airspace included.”

The Ambassador sipped some wine before speaking again. “But I am sure your authorities already know how this would work. If you are ready to provide those, then I am sure the National Defence Forces could adopt a positive stance on the entire matter.”

“Very well,” the Allanean nodded. “The Midlands, and the Hash. Perfect. We will, of course, pay for te cost of their construction so you are not out a dime.”

Volodov nodded and smiled. “Free bases and outposts… the dream of every army in the universe. But I warn you that if you accept such an engagement, then the bill might prove… heavy. The National Defence Forces are only efficient when it comes to spending their own money, but that of foreigners is a whole other story.”

He paused at that, allowing himself a little time to eat and drink. “Now, your idea of tribute has made me think of something… you see, tribute in money would be quite useless. However, not all tributes are monetary.”

The Ambassador sipped some of his wine. “Now, as you most surely know jewelry and war are two of the favourite Taraskovyan past times. We like exquisite, refined weaponry crafted with gems, yet it must also be efficient in combat. A fine balance between beauty and death, if you want.

“Now, were your… hmmm… superiors to present my nation with gifts of such a kind, my people would quite appreciate. Of course, it would have to be done in a manner as you thought of it yourselves, not Taraskovyans told you to. Of course, the more gifts – the better, for they should cover as broad the number of players as possible.”

Volodov paused, pondering. “But this would actually be a good preparation for a treaty restoring relations, not as a clause within it. It is entirely up to you how to offer presents to somebody who does not recognize you. And I do not guarantee that everybody shall accept them happily. Actually, not all shall accept gem crafted weaponry… it shall take some wit to persuade the various actors to change their views on Allanea.”

The Allanean pondered for a few seconds. Indeed, the idea of sending expensive weapons to foreign dignitaries was not very foreign – puns aside. The United States have sent many such gifts in the past – to the Knootians, the Felinians, and many other people, and even to the Taraskovyans themselves. This was not new.

He chewed very calmly, then returned to the matter. “This would work beautifully, Sir. However, I need to ask you for a small favor before I can begin my work. Let us draft a text fro a treaty – one that you feel would be appropriate. With this text, I will go before the Allanean powers – the corporations, the PAC's, the powermongers in Congress – and persuade some of them that the treaty will benefit their interests. And I will go and talk to the Taraskovyan powers, to the Patriarchate and the NashSec and whoever there is else – and show them the paragraphs that benefit them, and spread gifts before them.”

“Of course, the President's prty will do a lot of the treaty – but let us have at least a reasonable draft on the table, so that we can both know what I am trying to achieve, here. This would make it all much nicer and easier – for me at least.”

He paused again, returning to his food. “Oh, and by the way... the caviar is marvelous here. I will try and take my boyfriend and girlfriends here next week.”

Volodov’s face remained still when the Allanean mentioned his… tastes. After all, Dragomir was what many called as “staunchly straight” and his appointment to Knootoss was actually to symbolize that whilst the Grand Duchy does not bitch about the Knootian… way of life, it does not mean that it approves of it. Now, as of the Allanean way of life, the Ambassador not only did not approve of it, but thought it outright insane, and insane in the really bad way.

“What I can write is not even a draft, but a rough version of a draft, Pan Nemirovsky,” the Ambassador said, frowning. “But well, if having something rough is better than nothing for you…”

The Taraskovyan reached for his jacket’s breast pocket and took out a pen and a small address book. He opened it at a blank page and began writing.

- Sovereign Base Areas for the TNDF. Construction and other costs covered by Allanea. Territories to be coastal, with both territorial waters and airspace having unrestricted access to the broader international space.
- Possibly unilateral lifting by Allanea of tariffs on Taraskovyan goods for a period of time. Five years? Ten? More? The Grand Duchy would retain the right to impose whatever tariffs it deems fit.
- Recognition by Allanea that withdrawal from the Treaty of Port-Allanea was unwarranted and the fault for all consequences lies solely with Allanea. Public apology for the aforementioned withdrawal.
- Gifts, gifts, gifts…
- Upon fulfilling of its obligations, Allanea is recognized as a subject of law by the Grand Duchy and its dominions and protectorates.

Having finished scribbling, the Ambassador tore the sheet out of the book and passed it over to the Allanean.

“This is what I, personally, can think of. Other players might have further conditions.”

Temple of Our Lady Sirithil, Port-Liberty, Allanea, Ten day later

The temple, recently built, was made of pure white stone and duraluminium/titanium supports, giving it the impression of being light and airy, as if conjured from the dream of a Teleri shipbuilder. On its walls, images were made of the Lady in different stages of her life – from her life in sacred Aman, to her crossing into Middle-Earth, to modernity. Some of them were newspaper photographs adapted into painting form.

It was not full today – along the light, unpainted benches that looked as if they were made of maple, sat perhaps a third of the flock, looking with respect and admiration at the priest – and, more then that, at the huge, gold-plated statue of the Lady Herself, towering over the pulpit, raising above the priest's head two hand with the Blessings Of the Lady – a bright sword in one hand, and a tight bundle of bank notes in the other. On her chest shone the Star of Feanor, plated with platinum, rubies and sapphires. The priest, standing at the pulpit below, his long white and gold robes, seemed to be a sort of emissary, the Lady Sirithil's hands outstretched above him in blessing. He spoke with conviction and vigour, and the followers listened with their piety nearly painted on their faces.

“For the Lady's Blessing comforteth me, and though I walk through fear and want, though I may suffer the anger of Her enemies, I will not falter in my Service to Her, for the Lady Sirithil is with Me, and Her might guards her Faithful, and her Star, it lights my path. For the Lady is merciful, and kind, and Her banner is unfurled before me, guiding me through all fear, and all danger, for the Lady's Sword will protect me, and the Lady's Coin shall nourish me.”

In the back room of the temple stood two people, talking to each other, their words obscured from outside listeners by the words of the priest. Very well, Alexei. I like this very much. Do you think we can get this together?

Nemirovsky – for it it was him indeed – nodded. As I think of it, there's a large landowner in the Midlands that can sell them land... as well as, I guess, on the Hashi coast. We will eminent-domain it for twice the price- win the approval of the farmer's lobby, that way. As per the tariffs... I don't see this as universally all bad.

How abou the gifts?

Send out some ornate daggers and hunting shotguns with drafts of the treaty. I'll go out to Tarasovka – I have a Knootian citizenship – and talk to the Patriarchate. They, I understand, will require special convincing.

The other man paused. No. Do not go there... the Patriarchate will not like you at all. I will have a completely different candidate – one who is maybe not Orthodox – but at least he is very devous.

Nemirovsky nodded, understanding the unspoken logic.

Very well. Now, I think we should pray for the success of this enterprise.

And when the sound of the religious hymn came upon them, brought by the voices of the believers in the Temple, they sang along with it.

Onward, Faithful soldiers, marching as to war,
With the Star of Feanor going on before.
Sirithil, Our Lady, leads against the foe;
Forward into battle see Her banners go!

They sang, and their voices mingled into those of the Faithful, reverberating across the high walls of the church, and heard outside, over the din of Liberty-city.

One of the residences of High Duke Karth Tal-Nash, somewhere in metropolitan Taraskovya, most surely Vigvar or Amal

The High Duke was quite amused by the package that had been delivered to him from Knootoss. An excellent sword, ornated with gems and silver, yet balanced for fighting, which the High Duke already made sure of by trying it out. But what amused him more was the letter by that Allanean, whatever his puny name was, enquiring into the potential of a possibility of lobbying a recognition of Allanea by the Grand Duchy.

Amusing, truly, since the High Duke was really not intent on promoting any Allanean interests. And so the sword was dispatched to his personal armoury, to lie between other similar gifts (even if, he had to reluctantly admit, the Allanean gift was by far more beautiful than many of the blades in his collection). As of the letter, it was simply tossed into the fire place.

* * *

Karth Tal-Nash was not the only one to receive gifts. His elder brother, who was also the head of the Tal-Nash house, received some, too, yet he was even more opposed to any idea of recognition of Allanea and so simply handed his sword to the maid present in the room at the time. The woman, shrugging, took the sword and quickly sold it at an auction, collecting enough money to allow her to quit her job and enjoy life. The High Duke, quite angry at having lost a very efficient servant that kept the rooms of his palace spotless, blamed it all on the Allaneans.

Orlov Dukes also received their gifts. Swords, firearms. Anatoly Orlov, head of the House, was actually quite puzzled. The Tal-Nash have always been the likes of those who’d make sure that, if the Grand Duchy invaded some territory, in 9 months that same area would have a firm presence of ethnic Taraskath. The Orlovs were always on the pragmatic and moderate side, acting in support of the Shakhovskoy just as the Tal-Nash wanted to depose the Grand Dukes and claim the Sword of Rulers for themselves. As such, the Orlovs met the gifts with intrigue and curiousity, thinking of the possible outcomes for the Grand Duchy.

Other actors and important players on the political and social stage also received their gifts, the overall reaction raging from highly negative to intrigue, yet none was enthusiastic enough as to jump happily and hug the Allaneans and recognize them and stuff.

In the meanwhile, in Allanea, the project, too, was meeting certain hurdles. The Hamiltonians were no longer a part of the ruling coalition, and to get their wish, they needed to convince a few people. And so, gifts were sent to a variety of Allanean big-shots – with little results. The few big-shots already behind the measure then went to an unexpected power to help. The intellectuals.

A variety of pro-Hamiltonian professors, editorialists, and television personalities enlisted to the project – and eventually, a smll, yet very active Society for Taraskovyan Friendship appeared. Within the first three months of its existence, it had picketed Congress thrice, and the White House, four times. Editorials in favors of asking – nay, begging- the Taraskovyans for recognisiotn appeared in the major papers.

In the meanwhile, two Congressional Acts were suggested that the United States should downright snivel and beg for forgivance – of course, they did not write that out in those very terms. They were shot down, as well as a similar Senate motion. However, the New-Florida state legislature approved a motion to stand out in support of reconciliation with Tarasovka at “any and all terms”. This had no legal power, but the New-Floridans felt their point was made.

In Neo-Dallas, whose citizens stood to benefit widely from better trade relations with Mars, a large rally was held to back the idea – but it also had it's own critics. Howard Ibn Abdullah [D-ZaraKrishta], spoke out against reconciliation, accusing the Taraskovyans of absolutely inhuman mistreatment of the Khristian and Toran minorities. James Kirbeeson, [D-Kalandia] had responded by politely asking “Senator Ibn Abdullah to take the Torans and shove them where the sun does not shine, it's the Allaneans we're talking about.”

In short, it was business as usual – with a slight tinge of pro-Taraskovyan propaganda.