Born a Monster

Chapter 52

Diplomats

Remember when I said I had to pay to train with the guild? They weren’t joking.

“Six gold coins?” I asked.

“Promotion from the rank of Shield Bearer to Guardsman happens only after sixty days of training. One silver a day times sixty days.” Reynald said. “Whether you accept the promotion or not.”

“No, I accept the promotion.” I said.

.....

“Excellent. Now, are you ready for more training?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. First off, know that your Valet status is not being restored.”

“Okay. What else do I need to know?”

“You are reporting to the Shrine of Apollo to be a diplomatic attache. Those fools think there is a peace to be struck between Narrow Valley and the Crimson Hand.”

“We’re travelling to the heart of a recently occupied town? Did the guild assess hazard pay?”

“The guild did not. An ambassador from the church of Montu has arrived under flag of truce. The city has agreed to a request from the Sun Priestesses to provide staff. I understand you are also learning to read?”

“Some, I’m not an expert.”

He held up a sheet of paper. In Achean, the word for DISMISSED was clearly written.

As I left he added, “You report to the shrine.”

Well, I had the good sense to bathe before going to the shrine. “What do diplomatic attches wear?” was the question foremost on my mind. Because if I needed to rent that blue suit back from Tangars-

I wandered downstairs to the quartermaster’s room.

“For this, you will need a tunic and pants of tightly spun wool, preferably white although gray is acceptable. And you’ll need a new pair of sandals.” Tangars told me.

Well, tightly spun means different things to different clothiers. I went with a light gray ensemble and linen undergarments to keep the thing from tickling me.

Per specifications, I got close-toed sandals with ties that came up to my knees. It felt like they were crushing my feet, even when I got the next size up.

It took far too long to get the ensemble on or off, but that may have been by design. Big surprise, it cost almost as much as the blue suit.

Thus packaged, I returned to the Hellene.

“Acceptable. Now, let’s go over your letters in Achean, Numidian, Manoran, and Furdian. As the language of local diplomacy, Furdian will be the most important among them.”

Of course it was. There were a few words I knew of Furdish, but my letters were, I thought, coming along nicely. I was vastly mistaken, as the first lessons showed.

“Well, we have time to work on that.” She said. “Now, let’s talk about process so that you know when to bring things to the table.”

“Would a sign language help with that?”

“We haven’t the time to develop one.”

“One already exists, courtesy of the Valets and Heralds of the Guild.”

“I remain skeptical, but for example, if I needed a refill of my inkwell-”

I moved the inkwell from in front of her to a spot nearer the corner.

“And if I do this?” she placed her quill in the same spot.

“You need a new quill while I sharpen the current one.”

“Indeed. I think this shall be satisfactory.”

#

I know that many people think a single attache spends their time at the shoulder or sitting at the right hand of their diplomat. Maybe it does work that way in other lands; I know my experience was different.

Snack plates and drinks needed to be refilled; custom orders to the kitchen seemed to be the lifeblood of diplomacy.

Failing that, there were endless notes. Not on paper, that would be too expensive. Broad grass or reeds could be mulched, pressed, and treated into a substance known as papyrus. It yellowed rapidly and became brittle, but it took ink markings readily enough.

Every. Single. Word. Every word needed to be recorded, verified, and properly translated. An elderly woman named Melachea was our wordsmith, and nobody else seemed to want to wake her. Eventually, I started guessing translations based on her earlier decisions.

My success rate raised from a mere twenty percent to nearly half, but all of my translation efforts were recorded and reviewed, and not committed to the official scrolls until she had verified them. 1

And so it went for many days.

[Development of Resolve statistic to level 3 is now complete.]

[Attention-Deficit Disorder can be partially corrected for 500 biomass points. Biomass points not available. You will continue suffering from this deficiency.]

[Queued development: Valor statistic to level 3 has started, 30 days until completion.]

Disorder? Well THAT didn’t sound good at all. A quick perusal of my System identified that this would fragment my thoughts and be an obstacle for exactly the manner of long-term planning that I needed to do just now.

But 500 biomass was just – I would need to eat double meals for a week or more. AFTER I took care of my biomass debt. I flagged it for later attention and got back to work.

Which didn’t stop me from gobbling down leftovers. There were plenty of those, dishes that just weren’t what the dignitaries were expecting, or which they no longer desired when they arrived, or that they’d ordered a plate of so that they could eat only three of them.

I had all kinds of adaptions for eating questionable food, usually prioritized immediately after the meal that I first needed it for. I might not like the spices they used, and I might just not have the free slots for everything after dinner, but in terms of sheer volume, I definitely ate my fill and more.

And yet, because of resistance caused by being rank 2, my Gluttony refused to go up, and thus the protection from Aura Taint provided by my sin wheel was stuck at 1. Well, I would worry about increasing my sins later.

#

The treaty, such as it was, was an incredibly simple thing. The misunderstandings with the Guild and that matter of the assault on gatetower and wall were to be forgiven without need for repayment, and both sides agreed not to attack the other, nor to allow their citizenry to do so.

The big sticking point was the religion of Montu as practiced by the Crimson Hand. They wanted permission to follow all the precepts of their religion without restriction. Narrow Valley wanted them to obey the law. Whether it was the elevation of sandals on blocks of wood, or the right to kill those who blasphemed the name of Montu in public, each side took an extreme position on whether or not to allow it.

Then, when there were enough issues on the table, they began dickering over the ones they thought would be safe to pass or deny. The simple treaty expanded, the translations became backed up, and most of us got an overly detailed view into the daily lives of the people of Montu’s Glory.

In particular, there were laws from Montu’s Glory, and the diplomats wanted them passed in Narrow Valley as well.

Free passage for their priests and merchants, and freedom from taxes. That one wasn’t going to be granted, no matter what else they gave up; the town council needed every tin coin they could gather.

The right to pursue heresies and heathens? I can’t believe they expected us to permit them to imprison and torture our citizens, but it was on their list of requests. This was also the point on which their right to convert citizens was denied.

“I admit I cannot credit this as anything more than a ruse.” I told the Hellene one evening.

“Oh? Please do go on.”

“I was there, I saw their city taken by Rakkal. Yet here they are, pretending that nothing has happened, arguing whether or not their theocracy has the right of law in Narrow Valley. They make these requests knowing they will be turned down. Therefore, the actual requests cannot be their goal. That begs the question of whether they truly want this treaty. And if they do not want the treaty, what do they want?”

“I believe they want the treaty.” She said. “Oh, they won’t like the treaty we give them, and that may be the point; if they can return home to their people with an utterly unreasonable treaty, then they may try to use military force to better it. In short, they may have to pursue peace in order to get a cause for war.”

“But if both they and their Uruk allies are all members of the Red Tide, why don’t they just come here with all their military forces and just burn Narrow Valley to the ground?”

She set her cup aside. “What is this Red Tide?”

#

She blinked. “Merciful Zeus. And you say the town council heard these reports?”

“Every one of them, from my own lips.”

“This is not a good thing. They cannot see the flames, even as they dance among them.”

“I may lack the cultural reference for those words.”

“Heh. You are rapidly learning the art of diplomacy.”

“My System disagrees with you.”

“Then it is good that we talk, rather than letting our Systems do the talking for us. Well, then, I am glad that we have extra security on the ambassadors and their staffs. I would hate for them to be gathering intelligence on us while pretending to negotiate.”

“I don’t understand why they even need that intelligence. With their Uruk allies, they outnumber the citizens of Narrow Valley by three to one. They must outnumber our soldiers by more than that.”

“Have you heard that an army travels on its stomach?”

“Not before now, no. But I am familiar with how provisions affect the morale of soldiers.”

“Exactly. It is no different for Uruk. They will need to gather their hunts before coming to lay siege to our town.”

“Rakkal doesn’t seem that patient. What advantage is there in waiting?”

“The war season used to be from harvest until winter. If he means to use the army of the Crimson Hand as part of his forces, he may need to wait those three months. But he can’t mean to lull the council into a false state of security. If all you saw is actually how things are, there is no need for him to be so secretive. Therefore, there is more going on, something that you have not seen.”

What had I not seen? What had I not heard? Given all that I had seen and heard, it was hard to believe that there was anything else left to know.

Rakkal had been tired, and wounded, and had still kept fighting until victory was his. Casualties hadn’t been extremely heavy, given that they’d gained a fortified town and its surrounding farms.

.....

So it made no sense for Rakkal to stall for time. Was it Harkulet, then? That also made no sense, he was the one who had Black Fist hire the Guild to witness the fall of Montu’s Glory.

But someone, clearly, thought they were being sneaky by sending diplomats, as though everything were normal and war hadn’t been about to break out between our two cities.

I tried to think of who could be that stupid. Or maybe just misinformed? It seemed like the manner of thing that could only fail. So who gained what by that failure?

Once I understood what a puzzle was, I would relate this to trying to assemble a puzzle with missing pieces.

Had something been said or done, and I just hadn’t been paying attention?

The more I thought on it, the more I became convinced; there was some other person or faction, and their view on things was alien to that of the rest of us.

[1] Those of you from the technical realms can think of this as a written version of branch-commit version control, if it helps you process the matter. This foot note was not part of the original text.