herr_bookman (
herr_bookman) wrote2013-04-02 05:18 pm
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OOM: A Tale of Two Cities
Pain never used to bother Autor, not really. He didn't dwell much on his or others'--there was no point wasting the time when he had so much work to be done.
But then Lohengrin flinched and Rabastan cried, so now the boy is looking back at other ponds he may or may not have made waves in. To his chagrin, he found a few. Even worse, he found some storms ready to burst.
So he put off his work and scoured the library for a solution. He devoured poetry after poetry book, history after history, and found nothing. As much as it irritates him, he's out of his depth. He knows he needs to turn to a person with experience in these matters.
Someone who knows him, but is disconnected from the situation. Someone who can't possibly guess who else is involved. Someone who happens to be walking right beside him at the end of a long day.
"Majesty Lemia?" he asks hesitantly, and then straightens his posture. "You have a great deal of experience in diplomatic negotiations, do you not?"
But then Lohengrin flinched and Rabastan cried, so now the boy is looking back at other ponds he may or may not have made waves in. To his chagrin, he found a few. Even worse, he found some storms ready to burst.
So he put off his work and scoured the library for a solution. He devoured poetry after poetry book, history after history, and found nothing. As much as it irritates him, he's out of his depth. He knows he needs to turn to a person with experience in these matters.
Someone who knows him, but is disconnected from the situation. Someone who can't possibly guess who else is involved. Someone who happens to be walking right beside him at the end of a long day.
"Majesty Lemia?" he asks hesitantly, and then straightens his posture. "You have a great deal of experience in diplomatic negotiations, do you not?"
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"I know I've said this before," he says, fidgeting, "but my condolences for your loss."
There's always a silence after that. Autor has to take a moment to rein in his horror and rearrange his thoughts.
"Given your observations, I was wondering, then, if you might entertain a theoretical question for me?" he says, shrugging. "Let's say you might have opened a trade route with one city--and really, the terms on that are so incredibly vague--and then you sort of, um"--and here he stumbles over his tongue a bit--"went sight-seeing in another one, as if you had enough resources to support both?"
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"While it's important to keep good relations with many cities," she begins, picking up something else from Autor's words, "you cannot misrepresent your city or resources."
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"It's a very delicate task. The idea usually isn't to sever ties completely but it's a very real risk. It must be thought out almost like a trade: what is there to gain and what can you afford to give?"
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Then the boy locks his gaze to the floor as he mulls over her words. "A trade... You already know what you can get. The trouble there is negotiating how much to give to each, and what is proper to take, I imagine."
"What would one do if, say, the second city has been under siege for nearly its entire life and has suffered severe structural damage?" he asks, and slows to a stop. "Clearly you're not that important, really, and your trade agreement is such a paltry thing, but what should you do if you're concerned that your withdrawal in this manner is just another blow upon a city hit by meteors?"
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"This isn't quite the same but come sit and have some tea. I've a story, one of the few I remember from my youth, that relates to this."
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He is her apprentice after all, not the other way around.
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"There's a tin of candied citrus peels if you wouldn't mind getting that as well."
She then folds her hands on the table.
"We were a strange mix, the four of us. And perhaps no two of us displayed that contrast better than Dyne and Ghaleon. It's amazing that they could be as close as they were, especially when you take into account one of our journeys to save another village from Eiphel's dark grasp."
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After checking the kettle again, he sits quietly and nods, waiting for her to continue.
This isn't in any book, I'm sure.
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"If pressed to pick who had been right that day, it would be difficult to choose. While Ghaleon's action looks to be the right choice on the surface, I can't deny Dyne's understanding that every little act of kindness is significant."
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"What if," he says sluggishly, "you perform what you think is an act of kindness, and it turns out to just cause more harm?"
And the tea kettle hisses.
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Lemia puts her hand to her mouth in thought but, after a moment, she begins to tremble just a little.
It's brief, probably only a handful of seconds.
"For better or worse, all we can ever do is what we believe to be right."
After this, Mia and presumably the same man in the hallway are at the door.
"Are you all right, Mother?" she asks, going to Lemia.
"Should I get some of Draco's potions?" the man questions, staying at the door.
Lemia shakes her head and goes, "I don't think that will be necessary, Nash."
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She must be drowning.
He rises to attend to the tea, taking down two more cups for Mia and Nash, if necessary.
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"It wasn't too bad," Lemia insists as her daughter holds her. "It felt kind of...out of nowhere compared to some of the others. I'm fine now."
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Then he turns to the man in the corner. "Were you looking for a cup?"
He'll offer a drink to Mia after her hands aren't occupied.
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"Oh," Mia goes, taking one hand to gesture in introduction. "Nash, this is Autor. He's a friend from Milliways."
She takes the seat next to Lemia and stays close to her while nodding to Autor that yes, she would like some tea.
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At least I have incentive to sprint.
"Nash," Autor says, inclining his head in greeting. "I was wondering when I'd meet Mia's Premier."
With a glance to Lemia, the boy turns abruptly and busies himself with making some approximation of a tea blend Mia might like. Something with berries, maybe?
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Mia softly giggles at this.
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He reins in a sigh and raises a brow. "Indeed," he says, and looks him over.
Then he saunters over to Mia and presents her with her teacup and the sugar bowl.
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"He's already met Jessica and Master Mel," Mia explains to Nash while he regroups under Autor's scrutiny.
Nash takes another seat at the table and drums his fingers along his jaw with a sigh and the words, "Is a little recognition too much to ask?"
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He turns away again, and messes with the kettle. "Congratulations. How do you like your tea?"
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The Premier slumps clean out of his hand, his head landing in the crook of his elbow.
"See? People do recognize what you've done and continue to do," Mia adds. "And you don't need to be so surprised whenever you learn that some people actually like you."
Lemia gestures to Autor and, when the young man is close, she whispers, "Nash seems to do that anytime he finds out someone fancies him. You should have seen all of the times he choked on his words back when Mia was sweet on him."
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He grins. "What a spectrum the Five Heroes are."
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