Pimussum steps off the boat at Maima Harbor and looks at the clock tower that stands high amid the transport-based structures of the Acutera district. They do not have much time to get to the Senatus building in the Goberan district before the meeting starts. In their rush to exit the harbor, with so many others also leaving the ship, they almost miss Cadomo waiting for them just inside the gate.
“Since you arrived later than expected, I have arranged for a carriage to take us directly to the meeting,” he says. “I thought it would be here by now, but I have not seen it.”
Several carriages are waiting outside the harbor, all marked as individual vehicles or commercial carriers. With so many people moving in and out, the streets here are little more than a blur of movement, but then Pimussum spots the blue and white of a government carriage coming toward them along a side road. Soon, the crowd around them is parting for the horn being used excessively from inside the vehicle.
“Senator Pimussum, it is a pleasure to serve you,” says the driver from their seat, trying to keep the mades under control in the busy street. “We do not have much time, so climb in!” As Pimussum and Cadomo climb through the blue fabric doorway, the driver adds under their breath, “Arrival three dissesa later than expected, and still I manage to be late. Monu will not be happy.”
While Cadomo pours them each water, Pimussum says, “Do not trouble yourself over that. Just take us to Goberan as quickly as possible while we still have time.” In response, the driver only nodded and motioned for the mades to drive them away from the harbor.
Once they had left Acutera, Pimussum noticed a stark contrast. Gone were the throngs that they had been pushing through at the harbor, and even the commercial districts lacked the usual hustle and bustle that gave Sumtemus its character. The streets were empty apart from occasional lone workers or families, always moving quickly in seemingly arbitrary directions. Today was not a holiday, nor did they recall anything that would make today different, so what was happening in the capital?
Before they could form that question aloud, Cadomo broke into their thoughts. “How was your time in Onlaji, Senator? You have been gone for a whole lunata.”
“The capital of the Oumaji empire is not close, Cadomo,” replies Pimussum. “One trellunata for the voyage each way left me only eight die in the city, and most of that was spent in government buildings for my important meetings. It really is a shame their climate is not suitable for our lifestyle here, with our open architecture and lush gardens. If this city were built there, we would have no time for anything but cleaning away the sand.”
“Surely you saw something interesting there, though. The Oumaji may be disadvantaged by their climate, but their empire has nonetheless brought great wealth to the k’lafin and their capital city.”
“Yes, the wealth is quite evident. They have several parks there—it seems limited water is not really a problem for them, even in the middle of a desert—and there is a striking similarity between their open-air markets and our agore. Some things are universal, I suppose. And the k’lafin have erected monuments in their own honor, giant pyramids for their dead and arches for their victories. That is what is possible when power is in so few hands, though even here we will soon be able to build the grand altar to Aerina that we have been working on.”
At this, Cadomo hangs his head. “I’m afraid that will not be possible, Senator.” He looks up and, seeing Pimussum’s confusion, continues, “We have been attacked, in Nupiica. I do not know much about it, but I have been told that we are likely entering a war that will last several turns. I expect your meeting will have more information, but right now I know that beginning construction on a peace monument would be highly unpopular, not to mention potentially dangerous.”
Pimussum feels the carriage slow, and looks out the front to see the looming facade of the Senatus just ahead, the torch burning bright at the top of its dome. Looking around, they are happy to be home and surrounded by the familiar architecture of the Goberan district, but now this is tainted by the prospect that a war may soon encroach on the polita caerula. How long might it be until the Senatus’s torch is eclipsed by a siege of the city?
Then they hear the bells from the clock tower here, indicating that the meeting inside is starting. As soon as the carriage stops, they rush to get off and walk swiftly inside, Cadomo hurriedly following. The guards and servants greet Pimussum in passing as they walk the halls they know well towards the center of the building. Just before they reach the door to the chamber, Cadomo grabs their hand and holds them back.
“Remember why you are here and what it is all for,” he says quietly. “Seis diplomaticus.”
Then Pimussum opens the door and walks into chaos.
⯀
Pimussum looked around the room. It was different from anything they had ever seen, and certainly different from what they were used to in Sumtemus. The floor appeared to be packed sand. No torches or hearths adorned the smooth-hewn sandstone walls—the room, and the entire city, was hot enough as it was—so the only light came in through holes in the roof. The walls were bare except for a large banner representing the Oumaji empire’s diplomats, which bore a stark resemblance to their military ensigns. In front of them was an item that appeared to serve both as the desk of the diplomat at the other end and the conference table for the room.
“Good morning, Senator,” said the diplomat in accented Imperian. Pimussum was grateful that she used their language because their command of hers would have hardly been impressive. “My name is Kesi, second diplomatic representative of the kalef Sibamu (blessed be their name) and it is my pleasure to welcome you to our glorious city. The other Oumaji at the table are here only by my permission—my diplomatic and security staff. I trust that your associate here is of the same nature.”
Pimussum glanced to their left at Ocapi, more a friend than anything else, who nodded curtly. Their security personnel was outside the building, trying not to attract attention. So far, this was going as they expected—polite enough but with no assumption of goodwill. It always seemed to be that way with the Oumaji, and no doubt they thought the same about the Imperius.
“I understand you were invited here to meet with the diplomatic committee regarding the future of the Treaty of Tjarast, which as you know expires in three smantin,” Kesi continued. “I am sure you recognized that this is not that committee; in fact, I am the only member of the committee in this room. I have brought you here to discuss some information that not all of the committee is privy to and ideally reach some preliminary agreements before the larger session later this samnet. And before you comment on that, allow me to remind you that I am an authorized delegate of the kalef in all diplomatic matters, and in this position I have the power to approve any results of this meeting.”
Pimussum had been worried about this. The rigidity of Oumaji’s official power systems meant that attempts at unofficial power were common, with corruption and secrecy permeating every branch of the government. Despite the wealth displayed in the capital, it was never entirely clear what sort of money the Oumaji were dealing in.
“I do not doubt your authority,” they said. “What knowledge do you have, and what kind of deal are we making here?”
Kesi responded, “Given my position, I have some connections in Onlaji.” At Pimussum’s wide eyes, she quickly added, “This one is of an upright character, I assure you, being a high-ranking military official. He tells me that their network has contacted a sizable band of the Khondor in the northern part of Luxidoor territory. There have not been any major incidents in that region, so the Luxidoor seem to believe they are not a threat, but it is unlike the Khondor to be peaceful. Perhaps they intend to cross the border.” She said this lightly, but Pimussum knew that it was intentional: that region bordered on Imperius territory. “The Oumaji government, as you surely understand, maintains the position that the Khondor are a rebel group and their actions are not connected to the kalef. We recognize, however, that the international community will always associate them with us. The military believes that this may be to their advantage and is preparing for an invasion in concert with the rebels.”
Pimussum processed her words. Surely she did not mean… “Oumaji wants to attack Imperius?”
“Yes, that is what I am told.”
Pimussum narrowed their eyes. Where secrecy went, bluffing and lying inevitably followed. With so little detail, they could not know what was true and what was not. “But that would be absurd. Oumaji is already fighting Zebasi to the east, and given the strength of the Zebasi nation that is surely a costly war. You would not divide your resources and try to overcome the strongest navy on the Western Sea by water—not to mention our land forces, if you manage to land—at the same time. If your sources are correct, I apologize in advance for the forthcoming humiliation of Oumaji’s military forces.” But, if Kesi were telling the truth, it would explain the suspiciously-large ships they had seen in the harbor when they landed in Yeghla the previous day.
“Doubt me if you wish,” said the Oumaji, “but remember that you are on my tribe’s land. Now, the agreement I wish to make is an economic one. There is much that is produced in the land of Imperius that we simply cannot rival here, and for many turns your government has insisted on steep taxes on exports. I think, as a sign of the good will between our nations, it would be appropriate for those taxes to be relaxed for goods bound for the Oumaji desert.” She smiled, skirting the line between smug and hopeful.
Pimussum replied, “We both know Imperius does not import nearly as much from Oumaji as it exports. What do we get in return?”
Kesi’s expression darkened. “Remember, Senator, that my tribe is threatening war against yours, and that I will have considerable influence at the diplomatic committee meeting that you were invited to. The information I have given you today, framed in a certain light before the committee, will all but ensure that the Treaty of Tjarast is a relic of the past by the new moon. Take this deal now, though, and you can negotiate for the other half in front of the entire committee. The choice is yours.” She smiled again, and Pimussum felt that the word ‘smug’ was no longer adequate.
“I accept, and I will take my chances at the committee session. I feel obliged to point out that this policy of secrecy cannot be upheld within the Imperius government, but I trust it will not be necessary by the time I return to Sumtemus.”
They stood to shake hands across the large table, and the rest of the table rose with them. As Pimussum turned to leave, Kesi answered, “No, it will certainly not be necessary.”
Then Ocapi led them out of the building and into the street.
⯀
The chaos does not stop all at once, but within a few seconds the room is silent, all eyes on Pimussum.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” announces Praetor Lonulus. “The most experienced diplomat in all of Imperia, and you won’t even show your face when the meeting starts.”
“In my defense, it is not my fault my ship was three dissesa late on a voyage of more than a trellunata. May Neptun be more favorable to our prayers the next time your feelings are dependent on my timeliness.” Pimussum knows that they are not exactly being diplomatic, as Cadomo asked, but only so much can be allowed when Lonulus is involved.
“Well, we have reason to believe that some other things are, in fact, your fault, and I suspect they may be more consequential than your being on time to this meeting.”
“I am not sure I understand, Praetor. Forgive me, but I have not been informed of any events here in Imperia for more than two trellunata, and I was told only very little since I arrived back in the city. Tell me what gives rise to the present atmosphere in the Senatus, and I will do my best to explain myself.”
Lonulus seems to be holding back a laugh but obliges. “The city of Nupiica, in the west, was attacked four die ago, leading to many civilian injuries and the destruction of a substantial portion of the city, though thankfully few were harmed. Not much is known about those responsible for the attack, so they have not yet been connected to any tribe, but multiple locals claim they saw figures with the bodies of Polytopians and the heads of some sort of animal—some say horse, some say dog, some say something else. Warnings from unknown sources have been received there and in other nearby cities, threatening more attacks of this sort and alleged uprisings among the citizens.”
Pimussum barely hears the last sentence as they start putting the pieces together. Nupiica is in the west—near Luxidoor, where Kesi claimed the Khondor had been gathering. They do not know what the Khondor soldiers are, either, but the descriptions from the locals seem to match. She and her unidentified sources had not been bluffing.
They explain, “When I was in Onlaji, I met with the top Oumaji diplomats, as you know, to discuss the continuation of the Treaty of Tjarast. Before that, though, one of them—by the name of Kesi—met with me privately and discussed some information that she had not shared with the committee. She warned me that the Khondor were in the northern territories of Luxidoor, apparently biding their time, and made a joke about them invading our territory.” This gets some gasps around the room. “She also said that the Oumaji military had plans to use the actions of the Khondor ‘rebels’ to join in fighting against a weakened Imperius.” At this, the chaos that existed before Pimussum entered returns, the senators arguing vehemently with each other or screaming at Lonulus or Pimussum. The praetor manages to restore some order by pounding loudly on his podium.
“So what of this treaty you were negotiating there?” he asks Pimussum. “Does that not protect us from an Oumaji invasion?”
Pimussum responds, “I cannot say for sure. The original Treaty of Tjarast, as we all know, guaranteed peace between our tribes in addition to the provision for mutual defense. It is possible that they somehow created a loophole in the new treaty that allows this invasion, that my assistants and I failed to identify, or it is possible that they are simply ignoring that part of the treaty and hoping that a sufficient victory deters any other tribes from responding.”
The room looks ready to fracture again and return to chaos, but Lonulus has some control and clearly intends to keep it. He announces, “I think we have questioned Senator Pimussum enough, and we have our answers about the negotiations with Oumaji. We now must decide what to do about the attacks that have already come to our territory.” This sets off murmuring throughout the room, which is promptly interrupted by loud knocking. The senators look to the praetor’s podium, but Lonulus is looking at the door.
A messenger enters, out of breath, dressed in the uniform not of the Senatus staff but of the Goberan district runners. They speak to the praetor, barely loud enough for those on the opposite side of the room to hear: “I have received a message, transmitted from the harbors in Acutera. The scouts in the sea have spotted a large fleet of Oumaji vessels approaching Imperius waters.” More murmurs among the senators. “There have also been sightings of crafts leaving the armada on the north side, and potentially of cloaked crafts joining it from the same direction.”
Anything else the messenger had to say is drowned out as chaos returns to the chamber, the loudest the room has been the entire day. Lonulus’s pounding now serves only to add to it rather than to temper it. The senators may disagree on what the correct course of action is, but one thought is going through each one of their heads: military to the north can only mean one thing.
Vengir.
⯀