Chapter Forty-Two: The Cascadian Ambassador

Chapter Forty-Two: The Cascadian Ambassador



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Anton peered through the windows, watching the arriving ship come into dock above the Numengrad skyline. The capital of the Federation was usually cool this time of year, however, the warm air from the southern storms had finally reached the city, causing an abnormal amount of humidity.

Anton opened the window the few inches it allowed. Windows in the Red Citadel - the center of government for the Federation - couldn’t be opened fully. Still, the subtle breeze freshened the room and took away some of the stickiness.

The ship docked in the Red Citadel's private airdock. Anton watched a small group disembark. Even from this distance, the singular demon in the group was easily identified. Standing a head above the rest, the height difference was further emphasised by two sets of horns. The demon glanced at the Red Citadel with an indecipherable expression before following a guard out of sight.

Calvin Cornelissen, the Cascadian Ambassador to the Federation, had arrived.

Sighing, Anton walked away from the window and brewed some Jimari coffee. He always made sure to brew Cascadian coffee when meeting with their ambassador; it was important to show that despite the sanctions Cascadia had leveraged against the Federation for its just support of Republican efforts, they were easily circumvented.

Anton sat down and nursed his coffee. Under his instruction, the guards would make Ambassador Cornelissen wait ten minutes. The Federation was always busy serving the people; therefore, you wait for the Federation, and the Federation does not wait for you. Even so, for this particular matter, Anton’s mind was too busy by recent events to make good use of the enforced waiting time. His mind churned over the difficult conversation that was about to happen.

It didn’t help that when this conversation was over he would report to the head of the Red Navy and the head of the People’s Army. Two individuals who could crush any man or demon with their presence.

The allotted time passed in silence and then a side door opened. A guard stepped through. A rifle was holstered over his shoulder and his uniform was simple and brown. Yet, foolish would the man be who assumed this man was a simple soldier; a guard position in the Red Citadel was an elite position reserved for only the most loyal and decorated soldiers. This simple guard would, at minimum, be an orange-aura warrior and likely had decades of experience using it.

“The Ambassador is waiting for you, sir,” informed the guard.

Anton stood up, tidied his uniform and let the guard lead him to the meeting room. The room itself was large and immaculate with white marble floors and a long polished ironwood table. This table was almost ten meters long and if Anton really wanted to indicate his disapproval, he would make sure his guest would sit at one end and Anton at the other.

However, now was not the time for that kind of politicking and so Calvin Cornelissen was sitting in the center of the long table. The ambassador stood up when Anton entered the room but Anton waved him down. Anton passed his usual position at the head of the table and sat down opposite the ambassador.

With a small sense of satisfaction Anton noted the guard had sat Cornelissen down on the right side of the table. Now, when the ambassador faced him as he did now, his vision would be consumed by the enormous ten-by-sixteen foot painting behind Anton upon which the visage of the leader of the Federation would bore his painted eyes into the demon.

“Ambassador,” Anton cooly intoned.



“Secretary.” Cornelissen nodded in response, his pure yellow eyes holding Anton’s gaze.

“Would you care for a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Anton took a moment to reply. He slurped the coffee before setting it down and resting an arm on the table. “We have much to discuss,” he said. “It’s not often we summon you on the same day you request to speak with us.” Due to recent events in the Cascadian city of Kenhoro, the Federation quickly collected what information they could and summoned the Cascadian ambassador. As fast as they had moved, the Cascadian government had worked equally as quickly and only a few minutes after the summon had been sent they had received the request from Cornelissen.

“Please inform me, Ambassador Cornelissen, what bothers Cascadia?” Anton smiled. Cornelissen was the guest and by having him speak first he could better determine his own moves. Would the demon jump straight into the topic they cared most about, or would he talk around it?

“Matters of concern,” Cornelissen intoned. “In addition to the current restrictions imposed upon the Federation regarding red crystal exports, Cascadia will immediately cease exporting blue and purple crystals to the Federation. Furthermore, as with red crystal, we will forbid the re-export of those crystals from the Sabanis Dominance. We regretfully take these actions in response to the Federation’s continued encouragement of the tribal warriors of the Endless Sands to bolster Republican forces.”

Skirting around the main topic then, Anton thought.

“Nonsense,” Anton immediately protested, keeping his voice calm and his temper measured through decades of political experience. “These tribesmen merely seek to earn a better living and travel to Ironburg for work. We have their visas and documents proving their reason for travel, and we even have copies of the Republican work orders. Do I need to fetch them for you to look at?”

“Regardless of what any documents say, our battalion commanders are reporting an increasing amount of tribesmen on the ground,” the Ambassador’s expression darkened. “Need I remind you of their fanatical beliefs? The tribesmen believe that by grounding down our horns, they can create ever stronger golems. We have already shown you evidence of the barbaric desecration of demon bodies. Until the Federation prohibits their travel and actively assists Cascadian efforts in stamping down on the illegal horn trade, these restrictions will be maintained.”

Anton felt the faintest pinch of annoyance but quickly quenched it before it could manifest on his face. After Cascadia had restricted the outflow of red-crystal, the Federation needed to rely on less efficient explosive production utilising different crystals. This caused them to come to a mutually beneficial agreement with the desert tribes. The Federation would give them cover and means to travel to the Republic so they could find the ingredients for their magic, and the Federation would be allowed to mine the desert crystals. Cascadia’s problem was entirely their own making! Anton would love to point this out but couldn’t, as their official public opinion was that Cascadian sanctions did not affect the Federation.

Now, with reduced access to not only the red crystal of the Southern Terra Firma, but the blue crystal of the Eastern Terra Firma and the cold purple crystal of the Northern Terra Firma, the Federation would essentially be publicly cut off from all Cascadian crystal exports. The yellow crystal that falls in Centralis was never exported internationally and the green crystal from the mysterious Eastern Terra Firma was hoarded by the hidden Overlord. Any attempts the Federation made to establish any kind of relationship with Cascadia’s eastern territory were met in failure. As far as Anton knew, even Centralis only got a small measured amount of green crystal each year.

Still, they could get access indirectly. The Bureau had worked hard over the last few years to establish a coherent network in the Sabanis Dominance. Through this network, they would be able to circumnavigate the sanctions. Even so, these activities would weigh on the treasury.

This needed a response.

“First and foremost,” Anton began, “We would like to inform Cascadia that the terrible and unfortunate event that transpired is categorically disavowed by the Federation, and we were all relieved to find no innocent civilians were harmed-”

“Thanks to the talent of Lord-Prospect Thornheart,” Cornelissen interrupted. “I believe you are aware there were a small number of Federation citizens on the Sakamoto who would have surely perished had it not been for her magic?”

“Yes,” Anton intoned, feeling the growing sensation of being trapped. “Please communicate our gratitude to Miss Thornheart-”

“Lord-Prospect Thornheart, Secretary,” Cornelissen said with a smile. “Let’s not disrespect her, even if we’re so far away, by ignoring her noble title.”

“...Lord-Prospect Thornheart, yes.” Anton spent a fraction of a second clenching his jaw and then forced his face into a relaxed expression. “Furthermore, if it wasn’t clear, we would like to inform your government that these events were absolutely not an intended outcome and should we have been aware of the possibility of it happening, then we would have expended every effort to stop it.”

“Some might suggest not establishing intelligence cells to spy on our ships and citizens would be a good first step.” The ambassador punctuated his statement by relaxing into his chair. Anton knew as well as Cornelissen did that fieldwork like this was an established practice between Cascadia and the human kingdoms. Still, that didn’t mean they openly admitted such a thing.

“We would like to discuss transferring this... rogue agent into Federation custody,” Anton began, producing a slip of paper from his inner pocket. He passed the slip to the ambassador. “I’m sure you recognise these names.” The paper contained a list of Cascadian spies the Federation had caught and were serving lengthy prison sentences. “We would like to offer an exchange for any two names of your choosing. In addition, we will pay for all repairs for the Sakamoto.”

The ambassador glanced up from the list before slowly placing it on the table. “A tempting offer, Secretary, however...” the demon's eyes narrowed. “Considering the unique talent of Polina Volkova, a mere two names isn’t going to cut it.”

Ah shit, Anton thought. They know about her blessing.

He locked eyes with the demon for longer than was polite. “How many names to satisfy Cascadia?”

“All of them.”

“Impossible,” Anton stated firmly. “There is a limit, Ambassador. There is only so far we can stretch. Eight names.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten, and we’ll double the payment for the Sakamoto.”

“Twelve names and you’ll pay for the Sakamoto and an additional hundred thousand denarii in compensation. This is our offer,” Cornelissen said with an element of finality.

Anton forced himself to slow down. He took a sip of his coffee, finding its now-cold bitterness entirely suitable for the atmosphere. “I will need to discuss this with my superiors,” he said. “Ambassador, would you care to stay within the Red Citadel until we can sort this out?”

“Certainly,” Cornelissen replied. “Please understand that if I need to communicate with my government, I must do so from our embassy.”

“Of course,” Anton said with a nod. Aetherfield communication was easily eavesdropped and so sensitive discussions over it required encryption. Demon cryptography had only recently caught up with human innovation and the embassy communications they had easily listened in on previously were now resistant to their efforts.

The two men settled on some further details and soon they covered everything their respective governments had requested of them. Anton stood up first, trying to regain some feeling of control.

“Ambassador, thank you for your time.”

“No, thank you, Secretary,” Cornelissen said cooly. “One last quick matter...”

“Yes?”

“A colleague of Polina Volkova, an individual identified by Natalia Marakova has escaped our capture and seriously wounded several city guards. We know she’s still in Kenhoro, hiding away in some safe house...” Cornelissen eyes narrowed. “Instead of further conflict and risk of casualties, we’d much rather arrange a time where our guards outside the Federation embassy can look away for a few minutes and allow her to return to Federation hands. See it as...” the ambassador looked thoughtful momentarily. “...a gesture of goodwill.”

“... I understand,” Anton responded after a moment's hesitation. “I will communicate this to my superiors.”

“Thank you.”

Anton called the guard in and Calvin Cornelissen was led away. For a long while after the demon was gone, Anton stood staring into space. How had all this happened? How had one human Speaker caused so much insanity to take place? How did their Intelligence Operatives, with the aid of a truth-teller, find out so little about her?

Who the hell was Amelia Thornheart?