NationStates Jolt Archive

The SKA-1B transport helicopter had a Halladi flag on the right side door, and the crest of the Commissariat of Diplomacy on the left side door. The only weapons on it were the frontal turret. It wasn’t carrying any troops to battle today. Today there would be peace. The helicopter approached its destination, the castle of Braedd Laeryn, the most infamous Shessaran Lord in the history of Halladi-Shessaran relations. It was now considered an important assignment, and as such a First Class Diplomatic Commissar was being sent.

“Learyn’s keep is about five minutes away, get ready to land, comrades.” Said the co-pilot through the onboard intercom. “Just try to keep your heads when you get there.”

Diplomatic Commissar Gamal Hasan smiled at the comment, as he looked into his wife’s eyes. Ordinarily he would not bring his wife on assignment, however this was to be a particularly long stay. Hasan might even become the permanent diplomat to Laeryn if negotiations went well.

“Do you usually get beheaded by the infamous Laeryn?” Alima Hasan asked her husband.

“Oh, all the time. Why just last week that brute Laeryn executed the local proletarian.”

“The Shessarans developed a proletariat while I wasn’t looking? Oh my, they’ve nearly caught up to us Halladis!”

Gamal laughed. “Believe me, they’re a far cry from civilized.”

The co-pilot spoke again. “We’ve landing now.”

The helicopter stopped in the air, hovering some twenty feet over the courtyard of Braedd Laeryn’s castle. Slowly the SKA-1B dropped to the ground, and the side doors opened. Five soldiers, guards for the Commissar, hopped out of the helicopter and lined up in formation. The Commissar, with his wife in hand, came out of the craft next.

“Where is comrade Laeryn? Not here to greet me?” Said Gamal sarcastically.

Indeed, only one man stood to greet them, aside from the silent guards on watch on the ramparts. Braedd Laeryn was always vigilant, it seemed, even against his own vassals and his own city of Crastiroedd.
The man was tall and grey-haired, with the yellow tint of one who had a streaming head of gold in his youth. His eyes were light-blue and piercing, transfixing any who met that steely gaze. He wore long trousers and a stiff, formal black tunic with gold braid, the Laeryn colors.
"Ambassador Hasan." It wasn't a question. "You will come with me."

Gamal raised an eyebrow and looked at his wife. She looked at him. They followed the servent, including the five guards.

"Does he ussually do this?" Alima asked her husband.

"No... Ussually he has this very lovely ceremony in which he shows off his wealth, and how he is a expert an oppressing the local peasants." He smiled. "It's all very bourgeois."

The greeter proceeded to where the flagstone court met the great oaken doors of the Great Hall and knocked, thrice, with a dull oaken thud. There was a clanking sound, and a small section of the right-hand gate swung inward, a door-within-a-door. A guard in bright, ceremonial armor stepped through, the lion of Crastiroedd resplendent in gold against the black of his tabard. He stepped stiffly to one side, and the first man waved them through.
On the inside, it was all the opulence that they had been warned of. A great gallery ran the length of the hall on either side, filled with courtiers and ladies in fine silk and lace, who chatted with one another and took refreshment from silver platters circulating in the hands of liveried servants. The great dais at one end of the hall, crowned with the lion's-head throne in mahogany and guarded by six men, was occupied by a small party of nobles in the finest garb. Two men in various heraldic colors sat before the throne's feet, playing some sort of game with small pewter knights on a circular, multicolored board. One tall, well-built woman in a gown of green silk stood to the right side of the throne. It was the man on whose muscled arm she rested a hand that drew the attention in the room. Braedd Laeryn was a member of the Shessaran aristocracy with all the careful marriages and breeding it implied.
The man was a monster. He would have stood a full seven feet tall if he climbed to his feet, and topped twelve in his Knight armor. His tangled brown hair fell to his breast; curling around a leonine face that might have been handsome but for the sneer which perpetually twisted one corner of the mouth. He sat, leaning back in the great throne, made even larger by the huge fur ruff about his shoulders and the long black cloak that pooled on the floor about him. His left hand rested almost casually on the hilt of a massive, two-handed sword. Taller than any man present and almost as wide, the blade must have weighed at least three hundred pounds. Yet it was evident from the ease with which he balanced it that Braedd Laeryn could wield it even out of his armor.
He didn't spare the new arrivals a glance, either, but turned to glare at the woman next to him. "What's that," he boomed. "You want honour? I'll give you honour, bitch." His massive hand came around with a snap like thunder, and the woman toppled from the dais, landing not six feet in front of the Halladi ambassador.

Gamal was accustomed to seeing such things, and had learned by now to dismiss it. Interfering with something like this would jepordize his life, even though it was the right thing to do. However, Alima was not used to such events happening. In fact, Gamal rarely raised his voice at her. She rushed to the side of the Shessaran woman, grabbing her arm.

"Are you alright?" She asked, and then looked up at Laeryn. "How can you do such a thing to your wife?"

All Gamal could think was: Shit! Shit! Shit! He quickly went to his wifes side and grabbed her.

"Ahem! No need to interfere, my love." Gamal looked at Laeryn. "I'm sorry comrade, she hasn't fully read up on Shessaran customs. It's my fault really, I should have had her fully informed. I assure you, comrade, she will not do something so rash again."

"Like hell I won't!" Alima said, right before Gamal covered her mouth.

With a nervous smile Gamal said, "She'll not do anything so rash again." Though it seemed like he was saying, "Please refrain from killing us."

"My wife? Hah!" Laeryn grunted, as if Gamal had made a joke. But he wasn't looking at Gamal- He was staring at Alima.
"What's your name, woman?"
The bruised and fallen girl gave Alima a look of pure spite and fled the room, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Ah, yes, this is--" Said Gamal until his wife elbowed him.

"I am Alima Hasan. The good Commissar's wife."

"Yes," said Gamal. "This is Alima, my wife."

Alima rolled her eyes as Gamal restated what she had just said. "And you are the infamous Braedd Laeryn, butcher of Erse." Alima stated. "Killer of one thousand one hundred seventy seven Halladi civilians, and over five thousand valiant Republican solidiers."

Laeryn tossed back his head and roared with laughter, and the court laughed with him. "You've got a tongue, woman, by the gods, you do."
He smiled at her, no longer the sneer of before but one that carried the full weight of his raw appeal. "You don't belong with this stuffy husband of yours."

"Stuffy?" Alima laughed. "Well, yes. But, that's part of what makes him great."

Gamal smiled and said, "Of course, love," in Arabic.

"Now, comrade Laeryn." Said Gamal, now in english. "Shouldn't we get on with official business? Or do you have some glorious celebration you are going to unfold before me and my comrades?"

"Of course, there is to be a feast," Laeryn said, rising from his seat to tower above the Halladi. "We could not let an ambassador come without one, could we?" There was a glint in his eye, though, and he looked at few but Alima as the lords and ladies of the court flowed from the room, speaking to each other loudly of their lord's grace and wealth.
The same grey-haired man from before came before the Halladis, and bowed his head. "If you like, Ambassador, I can show you your room and your wife's."

"After you," Gamal said to his wife. "It's time we saw the lovely rooms comrade Laeryn has for us. I'm sure they're quite extravagent in a way that only Laeryn is."

"Well, he certainly is special." Alima said as she grabbed her husbands arm and followed the Shessaran man.

At the back of the room, the Halladi soldiers who had come with Commissar Hasan left the hall, and went back to the helicopter. They prefered to spend their time with the helicopter crew, playing cards and gambling. Gamal noted the soldiers were leaving, filling him with a bit of insecurity. Still, he kept a smile and calm exterior.

They were led up a winding staircase, so that they could tell they were in one of the turreted spires of the keep. The corridor ended in an oaken door, which the guide pushed open to reveal a quite spacious suite of rooms, high in the tower, with bedroom, modern bathroom, and, unexpectedly, television. "We are not as backwards out here as you think we are." The guide smiled at the Halladis. "Please, make yourselves comfortable, dress and make ready. The feast will await your coming." He bowed, then turned back. "If you need me, ask a servant for Lord Adan ddry-Pendefigion." He nodded his head, turned, and was gone.

"Quite a nice comrade we've got showing us around." Alima said to Gamal as she sat on the side of the bed.

Gamal smiled and sat next to his wife. "I guess," he said, "But he's not a Lord I'm familiar with."

Alima smiled and layed back. Gamal sighed and stood up, looking around the room. "We should get ready," he noted. "You'll need to your best dress." Gamal went over to several suitcases which had been brought up to the room just after they arrived. The Commissar looked back at his wife, who was still laying on the bed. He walked over to her, and took off his cap. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was a dark black balding in the standard male pattern.

"I'm sure they'll send someone to get us." Gamal stated as he lyed down next to his wife. Alima kissed him softly on the lips.

"I'm sure." She said, getting up and grabbing one ofthe briefcases and going into the bathroom. Gamal just lyed their has his wife changed. A few minutes later she emerged in a plain white blouse and a black skirt.

"You look stunning." Gamal remarked, as he sat up.

Alima blushed. "So they say..." She turned on the television. "I wonder what they've got in Shessara."

The couple layed on the bed and watched the Shessaran television, waiting to be alerted of the feast and celebration.

The television, unfortunately, proved to be the same old international channels broadcast from the old Roman capital of Nova Roma. They only had to endure the soaps for a minute when there was a knock at the door and Lord Adan Pendefigion re-entered. This time he wore the full red-and-gold of his clan, the dragon in gold thread upon a brilliant ruby tabard, fringed in the same bright metal. His clothes were fine silk, and the sword that swung at his side was elaborately decorated and bejemmed, as was the pistol that hung opposite it.
"Mr. Gamal, we await only your presence to begin. Was there anything you required before you came down?"

"No, nothing." Gamal said, sitting up. He and his wife got up and followed the Shessaran Lord, who was now spectacularly dressed.

He led them back down the staircase, through the hall, and down the same confusing maze of passages- it was obvious that was deliberate, some form of defense- and back into the Great Hall, where the elaborately attired guests thronged around a long oaken table that had been brought in. The great Prince was nowhere to be seen, and Adan led the two to two places at the table, seemingly undistinguished from the others, at the head of the table, one seat from Laeryn himself.
"The heralds have determined that these will be your seats," he said with all seriousness. "And allow me to fetch you something to drink. Here!"
An elderly man in Laeryn livery presented the two guests with two golden goblets filled with some sweet-smelling liquor, probably mead.
"If you will excuse me," Adan said, "It is my duty to call on the Prince before the feast, so I must leave you. Please, make yourselves at home. We will begin shortly."

Gamal and his wife sat for the moment, awkwardly, at their assigned seating. The ambassador looked down at the goblet handed to it. It smelled of some sort of alcohol and he put it aside. Alima on the other hand, sipped at the drink eagerly.

"Oh, come on!" She exclaimed. "Since when are you a sevout muslim?" His wife stuck her tongue out at Gamal, he sneered at the drink.

"It's good," she insisted.

He sighed. "You know I'm not supposed to drink -- and not just because I'm a muslim. And you're not supposed to be drinking either, damn it. You don't even have any official regulations against it." Alima rolled her eyes.

The servant's face paled. "Master, is there something wrong with your drink?"

"Huh?" He said, looking up. "No, no. I'm sorry, I should have mentioned it before -- I don't drink alcohol."

The servant blanched further, and took a step backwards, glancing around fervently. "You refuse the lletygarwch?!" Too late, others had heard, and all stared at Gamal, all of them afraid. Somehow, they seemed to be afraid for him.

"Refuse the lletygarwch?" He asked, skeptical, and pronouncing the welsh terribly wrong. "Comrade, I'm sorry, but I cannot drink. I'm a muslim and a representative of the Halladi Workers' Republic -- it is my duty to keep myself free of such... distractions."

Instantly thirty swords- albeit bejemmed and highly ceremonial ones- glittered in the torchlight. One young men, with the blocky jaw and brown hair of a Laeryn, turned red with rage. "You dare insult the house so?"

Gamal stood up, rather outraged himself, and almost yelled, "I would do no such thing as to insult you -- I have been quite kind enough! It is you who would insult my convictions by having me to drink this!"

There was a flash of movement, and Adan Pendefigion was between them. "Mind your manners, Gruffydd, he's a guest." The other shoved his sword back into its scabbard, bowed grudgingly, and turned away. The rest of the court returned to quiet conversation, all of them studiously ignoring Gamal.

Gamal, thoroughly upset and angered, took his seat noisily, remaining silent. Alima eyed him a bit, but Gamal never understood the hints she dropped. They both sat, awaiting Laeyrns return. Alima wanted the chance to be the rebel once more, and Gamal simply wanted the whole ordeal over with.

Adan sat down beside them, and leaned over to Gamal. "Friend, let me just explain what happened. The lletygarwch is an offering of safety. The rules of the Gods have ordained that if a host has shared food or drink with a guest it is sacrilege to betray and attack them. Not that many lords care, but to not drink it is basically to call the lord an oathbreaker, or announce that you intend to attack him. Gruffydd and his cronies simply want to pick a fight with a Halladi, but still, if you intend to stay long in Shessara, I suggest you ask your God for permission to change your ways. Just a sip, not a whole horn."

The Halladi looked at Adan without turning his head, then eyed the drink in front of him. Sighing deeply, he raised the cup to his lips, but then put it down. "I'm not thirsty right now..." He said, barely audible. Alima rolled her eyes, grabbing her husbands goblet and shoving it to his mouth. He swallow a mouthful of the mead, coughing -- he hadn't expect it!

"Damn Muhammad, Alima? What the hell was that?!" He exclaimed.

She shook her said, "Sometime you just need to swallow your pride."

The sound of two hands clapping were the only sound in the room, as all eyes were suddenly fixed on Alima and Gamal - or, more specifically, the space immediately behind them, where Braedd Laeryn stood clapping his hands and smiling with a grin that showed teeth.
"I like this woman of yours, Halladi," he said. "She's got more ceilliau than most of your state department put together!"

They both looked over their shoulders, to see tha beast of man hulking over them. Alima gave a slight smirk, relishing in her 'victory.'

"Yes," Gamal said, rolling his eyes, "Well, I'll be sure to put that in my report for Premier Muhammad."