NationStates Jolt Archive

The small trijet lifted off from Tudor International at ten in the morning, early enough that they could actually accomplish something that day, but late enough that Ambassador John McArthur was not forced to rise at an uncomfortably early time. Ambassador McArthur was far from a morning person, though he could function well enough if need be. He just didn’t like to.

Swiveling his chair around, he finished gulping down an orange juice and deliberately yawned in an attempt to pop his ears as the business jet continued to climb on its way to forty thousand feet. Opposite of him was his assistant, Janine Delacroix, intently studying the documents regarding the Republic of Cotland. Though Cotland had certainly existed since before the founding of Rosdivan’s Havenite colony, the two nations had yet to have much in the way of diplomatic talks. Janine had the documents nearly memorized by now, but there was a reason that “studious” and “perfectionist” were two of the adjectives most commonly associated with her.

“So what do you think of our chances?” began Ambassador McArthur with his usual lack of the normal greetings, unconsciously brushing a tuft of brown hair back behind his right ear as he did so. It was not the most diplomatic manner possible, but this was not a diplomatic situation and Janine had worked with him for quite some time. She was used to his idiosyncrasies.

“We’ll probably get the trade and transshipment agreement, there’s no reason for them to deny those and it could be taken as a diplomatic insult to reject them,” replied Janine without looking up. “A large rail connection will allow for easy access to each others markets for both of us and even a minimal tariff would bring in a significant amount of money. The same goes for transshipment. Port, railroad, and river barge fees, and the resulting taxes, should bring them a healthy boost to their treasury while also being cheaper for our merchant ships than taking the long way around and tacking another month onto the voyage.”

Underlining an important line, and then chewing on the top of her pen, she paused a moment before continuing. “I don’t know about the mutual defense pact. That really serves our purposes more than it does theirs. If anyone’s going to be in need of aid, logically, speaking, it will be us. On the other hand, even though they do outnumber us three to one, an extra front and several million friendly troops is hardly something to sneeze at.”

“Well, don’t stress too much about it,” smiled Ambassador McArthur, “Lord Protector Hutton doesn’t consider the defense pact to be a high priority. It’s simply a bonus on top of the trade mission.”

As the strategizing and discussion continued, the business jet flew on its way toward the Republic of Cotland and the impending meeting.

[OOC: Appologies for the late post. And my country isn’t a republic, but a Realm (kingdom).]

King Olav III International Airport
Eeobroht, Northern Region, Cotland

King Olav III International was a massive international hub of activity, being the largest of the three civilian airports serving the Cottish capital city of Eeobroht and its fifty-seven million inhabitants. Located some thirty-two kilometers north of the city center, just across the Steri River that flowed through the Cottish capital and its hilly surroundings, King Olav III had six large runways and seven terminals serving up to five hundred and fifty passenger aircraft simultaneously, and hosted more than ninety million travelers each year. Still, even with the hectic daily work the air traffic controllers were forced to cope with, the Rosdivan aircraft carrying the envoys to Cotland was allowed to land immediately and directed over to Terminal 7, the smallest and most luxurious terminal which was reserved exclusively for VIP flights.

Waiting at the tarmac outside the impressive modern glass and steel terminal building, a red carpet had been rolled out and a company of infantrymen from the Army’s 57. Infantry Regiment “His Majesty the King’s Guard” formed an honor guard, standing at parade rest as they patiently waited for the Rosdivans to step off the aircraft. Standing at the foot of the flight stairs that were driven up to the aircraft, the Cottish welcoming committee waited.

Mikkel Ormssønn, the thirty-nine year old Subordinate Vice Minister for Affairs Beyond the Borders of the Realm, which was beurocratese for Deputy Foreign Minister, was the representative that the government had sent to meet the Rosdivans. A rising star in the Foreign Ministry and a loyal diplomat, Ormssønn had been hand-picked for this honorable task.

The moment the Rosdivans appeared in the door, the honor guard’s officer called out a short series of sharp barking orders in Cottish, causing all the one hundred fifty men to snap to attention and present their DR-83M rifles, fixed with painstakingly polished 12” sword bayonets.

When the Rosdivan arrived as the foot of the stairs, Ormssønn stepped forward and bowed his head and upper torso in respect – a common Cottish greeting when meeting dignitaries – before speaking in generously in Oxford-accented English while offering his hand.

“Greetings. I am the Subordinate Vice Minister for Affairs Beyond the Borders of the Realm, Mikkel Ormssønn. On the behalf of His most Glorious and Honorable Majesty King Haakon the Eighth, I welcome you to the Realm of Cotland.”

Oh hey, there was a response. Just saw this. And the Republic is what I get for doing it from offline

Ambassador McArthur shook the proffered hand. "Thank you for meeting us Minister Ormssønn," slightly stumbling over the pronunciation of the name, which was rather unusual by Rosdivani standards. "If you can have someone bring our staff and belongings to the hotel, we can begin the negotiations whenever is most convenient for you."

Sucky post, but I cannot do the whole "Hi, we're here" posts to save my life

[OOC: No problem. I'll just get us going and jump to the actual negotiations if that's okay with you.]

"Certainly. The vehicles are waiting for us right down here, past the honor guard sir." Ormssønn said, motioning to the small convoy of black luxury sedans that had rolled up and were awaiting the Rosdivans at the end of the red carpet, just past the honor guard which continued to present arms.

"We have taken the liberty of arranging a modest villa just south of Eeobroht for yourself and your staff. It is situated on a small hilltop overlooking Lake Rugji, and it is a mere twenty minute drive from the city centre. If you are all ready, we can proceed to the vehicles."

The entourage began moving towards the waiting vehicles, each driven by a trusted driver who was fluent in English, in case of questions or such things. Ormssønn continued, "If it is acceptable for you sir, we will be expecting you at the Ministry in three hours so we can proceed with the negotiations."

*****

The Rosdivans would have found that the 'modest villa' was anything but modest. Situated on a small hilltop overlooking the large pictoresque lake Rugji, the villa had thirty bedrooms, all of them luxurious with king-size beds or larger, directly adjoining bathrooms, a library stocked with five thousand volumes (including one copy of Shakespeare's MacBeth dating from the 1700s) which also housed a cosy fireplace and a conferance table large enough to sit thirty people comfortably, a large dining room, a 500 m² wine cellar, many well-stocked bar cabinets, and a full staff of servants and cooks under the leadership of an aging but very correct butler who stood ready to carry out their requests, within reason of course.

If asked, the staff would say that this was the official representation villa that the Foreign Ministry owned, and it was used only by foreign diplomatic delegations headed by a vice minister or below - ministers and above were invited by the King to spend their stay in Cotland in the Royal Palace. The Cots placed their honor in being good hosts for their visitors.

Now, however, it was time to get the negotiations started.

If they timed the drivers, they would have found that the drive from the villa to the Ministry took only eighteen and a half minutes, most of which had been spend speeding down an empty lane of the highway at a frightening speed of almost one hundred and seventy-five kilometers per hour, something which was made possible by the skilled drivers, the police escort, and the fact that the inner lane of the highway where they had driven was reserved for priority traffic, something which meant emergency services vehicles, military vehicles and VIPs. The Rosdivan delegation fell into the latter category.

After having greeted outside the reception, the Rosdivans were now being led through the thirty-story complex that was the Ministry for Affairs Beyond the Borders of the Realm, or Foreign Ministry for short, by a high-level aide, up a lift to the twenty-fifth floor and through a 200-meter corridor designed to intimidate foreign visitors by showing off the grandeur of the Realm, something which was accomplished by the black marble floor, red marble walls and roof, the large windows on the left side which overlooked the five-kilometer long green lung of Eeobroht, the Taluas Park that lay just outside the Foreign Ministry, and the many pieces of nationalistic and patriotic art that hung on the walls and items placed on pedestals along the way, many of them in solid gold and littered with valuable gemstones. Every few meters, a door leading into adjoining corridors were positioned.

At the end of the corridor waited the massive polished oaken doors, each decorated with one half of a large golden Royal Lion holding a battleaxe - the ancient symbol of the Cottish Realm and monarchy - which led the visitors into the reception room to the Foreign Minister's office. The reception room was also in red marble, with black marble floor and ditto pillars at the doors. There were some comfortable leather chairs for the visitors to sit in if they had to wait, along with the large and intricately carved oak desk for the Minister's secretary, in this case a beautiful twenty-three year old woman with blonde hair. She smiled and rose as the Rosdivans were shown in by the aide, who bowed politely as he excused himself and handed them over to the secretary.

In fluent English, she said, "Sir, welcome to the Foreign Minister's office. The Minister is waiting for you. Please, follow me."

She walked around the desk and over to another pair of large polished oaken doors, this time without the Royal Lion, and opened them slightly, sticking her head in briefly before opening them fully and stepping aside to allow the Rosdivan delegation to enter, smiling to them as they entered.

Inside, the Cottish Foreign Minister, Yngve Freiholt awaited. Freiholt was forty-five years old, making him one of the younger ministers in His Majesty's Council, but he had been awarded that great honor for a reason. Since he started his career as a trainee in the Diplomatic Corps at the tender age of twenty-one, he had made a lightning career and reached the position of Chief of Staff at the Embassy in Doomingsland before he was recalled to Cotland to take over the post as Minister last year. Now, he stood in his large office, dressed in a tailor-made suit, smiling as he welcomed the Rosdivans. Sadly, there had been little diplomatic interaction between the two neighboring nation-states in the past, but that was one thing Freiholt hoped that he'd be able to change as a result of this meeting.

"Ambassador McArthur, welcome to Cotland. I am Foreign Minister Yngve Freiholt. Please, have a seat. I hope your accomodations were acceptable?" He asked curiously, shaking McArthur's hand with one hand and motioning over to the sitting area with the other.

The sitting area consisted of two three-person comfortable leather sofas, a pair of comfortable leather chairs, a coffee table and a beautiful view of Taluas Park just outside the large bulletproof windows. A silver tray with several cups, a silver pot of steaming hot Arabica coffee, smaller cups of milk, sugar and cream, and a small bowl filled with biscuts and the finest Cottish chocolate, which was quite on par if not better than most of the world's finest chocolate. Freiholt had obviously intended for this meeting to not have a too formal feeling, and for his visitors to feel welcome.

bump

A thousand apologies for the long delay in this post

It was only thanks to his long years of diplomatic training that Ambassador McArthur was able to keep from shaking as he stepped out of the diplomatic vehicle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Janine and a few other members of his staff were not so lucky.

Although he was based in the Havenite colony for this assignment, like most of his staff, Ambassador McArthur had been born and raised in the Home Islands. Between the nature of an archipelago and the tendency of Rosdivani to prefer high-density urban living, street traffic was fairly small and tame, with mass transit providing much of the intra-island travel. Forty miles per hour was the typical speed of a Rosdivani automobile journey, and, rack his brain as much as he could, Ambassador McArthur couldn’t think of a single place in the Home Islands that had a speed limit higher than seventy. Nearly three times the ground speed they were used to was disconcerting on up to mildly traumatizing depending on who you talked to.

As they walked past the many pieces of artwork on their way to the minister’s office, Ambassador McArthur had a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was not out of intimidation or of any matter actually pertaining to the negotiations at hand, but rather of future domestic concerns. Ah well, that’s what I get for marrying cosmopolitan and Moreist he scoldingly thought, with an internal chuckle.

"Ambassador McArthur, welcome to Cotland. I am Foreign Minister Yngve Freiholt. Please, have a seat. I hope your accomodations were acceptable?"

“Quite comfortable, thank you,” responded Ambassador McArthur as he shook the offered hand of his counterpart. “Although I think that your drivers scared a few of my staff,” grinning at Janine with that statement, “and my wallet is going to be sorely taxed thanks to this trip. Long experience of living with my wife has taught me that she’s going to feel a sudden need for redecorating after I tell her about the artwork and décor here.”

Royal Ministry for Affairs Beyond the Borders of the Realm

Minister Freiholt laughed heartily at McArthur’s comment, motioning for his guest to have a seat.

“It seems that wifes are the same regardless of where in the world you come from. You should have heard my wife after we returned from my posting in Urbus Doomanus. She wanted marble everywhere.” Freiholt said with a big grin on his lips before going a little more serious.

“As for the drive here, I offer a thousand apologies. It was never our intention to frighten you. Please, forgive us. I’ll make sure the drivers slow down for your drive back.” He said, not mentioning that ‘slowing down’ meant that the drivers would drive in a more reasonable 110 km/h, just thirty kilometres per hour above the normal speed limit on the highways. The high speed was done for two purposes. Firstly, to get the passengers from point A to point B as quickly as possible to conserve time that could be put to better use in some other place than the back seat of a luxury sedan, and secondly for safety reasons. Cotland was a rather safe place, having less than a thousand murders throughout the country annually, but there was always the chance that some nutcase was out there somewhere, and by driving fast, the chances of said nutcase managing to pull off something stupid was drastically reduced. Of course, the security around the Rosdivans was tight, but the security personnel were extremely paranoid.

“May I offer you some coffee?” Freiholt asked, picking up the silver pot of coffee. Coffee was a vital part of the Cottish society, and a necessity in social situations. It even went so far that a Cottish proverb clearly said that “A host who doesn’t even offer his guest a drink of coffee should be shunned like the Plague.” There was a reason why coffee was Cotland’s national drink.

Smiling as he drank some of the offered coffee, Ambassador McArthur enjoyed the warmth as it traveled down into his stomach. Both the warmth and the caffeine were quite beneficial and appreciated, it was always quite embarrassing and a bit of a faux pas to start yawning in the middle of a diplomatic proceeding. McArthur made a note to himself to have some of the coffee imported to his home, if for no reason other than as a diplomatic gesture. While the coffee was quite good, the cost of shipping to the Home Islands may potentially prove prohibitive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Janine scribbling down a quick note, almost assuredly a reminder that such an importation take place. That ability to guess his thoughts, or more importantly, what those thoughts ought to be, was one of the main reasons she was the lead staffer, despite her young age.

Patience, however, was an accusation that was very rarely leveled against the Rosdivani. While it might seem odd that a society that was generally considered to be laidback, especially in the Havenite colony where the Moreist party was strongest, the reality was that they tended towards a touch of laziness and a love of leisure rather than true patience. Hence why Janine was now handing him a short stack of papers, truthfully no more than a dozen pages, containing a draft of the major reason why this diplomatic expedition was now in Cotland.

“If you don’t mind, Minister Freiholt, this is a draft of a trade and transshipment treaty that we are interested in pursuing with your government,” spoke Ambassador McArthur. “The paper is mainly just the appropriate diplomatic legalese, but what it boils down to is an agreement to set up a major rail link on our border, a fast-track systems for customs, and transshipment rights such that Rosdivani or Cottish companies may use each others internal transportation systems without having to offload and reload with a domestic company. Additionally, it would set the groundwork for a number of trade consulates to be created in major cities. We believe that this would provide a general benefit to both nations economically, since it would cut transportation costs down greatly by allowing shippers to skip the otherwise necessary journey around the continent and Northfordian cape.”

The Rosdivani got straight to business, something which was acceptable for Freiholt. Dry chit-chat could go only so far.

”I believe that this will be acceptable,” Freiholt replied as he accepted the document from the Rosdivans and peeked inside it, skimming through a sentence here and there. “Naturally we’ve got to review the document thoroughly before I can give a definite yes, but in principal the Realm agrees to this proposal. Naturally, our customs officials will have to be allowed to check what’s being shipped over the border via rail, purely for national security reasons, but those are specifics that can be sorted out later I believe.”

Minister Freiholt took a sip of his own coffee before continuing, changing the topic.

“If we’re ready to move on, I’d like to discuss the possibilities of establishing official diplomatic stations in each other’s respective countries. His Majesty has authorized me to offer Rosdivan a lot for an embassy here in Eeobroht. As per international protocol and customs, the embassy will be considered to be sovereign Rosdivan territory and soil, and its staff will be granted diplomatic immunity. In return, the Realm expects to receive an embassy of its own in Rosdivan’s capital city under the same terms. We are also willing to discuss the establishment of honorary consulates in addition to the embassies.”

Ambassador McArthur nodded as Minister Freiholt made his response. “I believe that the construction of embassies would be agreeable to my government, though there may be a short delay in the construction of your embassy. Land in the capital of Serenity is somewhat hard to find, though it can be done. There’s some talk of creating a new artificial island precisely for this reason in the near future.”

Taking a sip of the coffee so as to wet his throat, this being a horrible time to develop a raspy throat, he continued, “There’s one other issue which the Lord Protector has ordered me to bring up here. He is interested in pursuing a Havenic mutual defense pact with the Realm of Cotland. Janine has the actual text of our proposal,” the aforementioned paper being placed on the table by the named staffer as he so said, “but I’ll quickly outline the major features of the proposal. In the event of a non-provoked attack by a foreign party upon the Havenic holdings and interests of the Realm of Cotland or the Commonwealth of Rosdivan, both parties pledge themselves to the active defense of the other.”

Sipping once more of the coffee, he finished, “This would not apply to wars that start because of an alliance pact however. The Commonwealth has consistently refused to join these major pacts and has no interest in joining a squabble between APOC and NATO, as an example. That is the basic structure of the proposed defensive pact.”

Minister Freiholt listened carefully to McArthur's proposal, his face revealing none of the thoughts and considerations that were racing through his mind.

Cotland had maintained a strickt neutrality stance for well over a century, but lately there had been a lot of talk and serious consideration given to joining one of the major alliances, with APOC being the favorite. Rosdivan wasn't a member of a major alliance, so there was little chance of creating bad relations between the two countries if Cotland decided to join APOC. The proposal McArthur laid out was an interesting one, but Freiholt could see several concerning points.

"Your proposal has its merits, and it is an interesting one, but there are a few grey areas that I can see right away. For instance, what do we do if for instance Rosdivan is attacked by a Cottish ally or vice versa? Who do we side with then? The third-party ally or each other?" Freiholt asked, before he decided to reveal some pertinent information.

"The Realm is seriously considering joining the APOC alliance. If for instance a NATO member decides to launch an attack on Cotland, you've stated yourself that we can't rely on assistance from Rosdivan. Most of the armed conflicts in the world are started by these alliances, either against each other or some neutral third-party. Yhis is commonly known facts. If we decide to join in a defensive alliance with Rosdivan, we pledge ourselves to assist Rosdivan should you come under attack by someone, and given Rosdivan's policy of non-allegiance we are pretty much guaranteed to support you every time, but if someone attacks Cotland, we cannot expect the same guarantee of Rosdivan support. To the Realm, this is unacceptable. Now, we don't expect Rosdivan to chance its security policy just because we say so, so I think it may be best if we just respectfully decline your offer."

Freiholt sat back in the comfortable chair and had a sip of his coffee before he added in a lighter voice, "However, the Realm is in principle willing to support Rosdivan militarily in the event of an unprovoked attack by a foreign power upon Rosdivan. Do note that I'm not officially pledging Cottish support, just that we are willing to do so if the surrounding circumstances are right."

"That's not a problem at all Minister Freiholt, and I do believe that such principles would extend from our government to yours as well," responded Ambassador McArthur affably. "I believe that this would conclude our proposals to your government. Unless your government has proposals of its own to make, I believe that we shall shall retire to our accomodations for the time being so that your government may fully review the documents before signing, at which point we shall then return to the Commonwealth."

Minister Freiholt sat the cup down on the coffeetable and rose from the comfortable seat, smiling to McArthur. The meeting had been a fruitful one, and several agreements that were beneficial to the Realm had been agreed upon. His Majesty would be pleased.

"I'm sure we'll have reviewed the documents by tomorrow," Freiholt said generously before he changed the subject. "Do you have any special plans for this evening?"