Chapter 6.11 - The Consulate

It had been a week since the subjugation forces had finished their mission. In the final days of the subjugation mission, the area was secured enough for a transport ship to tug in a consulate, much like at Thul.

Some might have called Serin petty, but Serin's Consulate was placed on a plot of land that was previously the magistrate's magic shop, which had coincidentally been obliterated by collateral damage. Within a day, the consulate was brought into full operation. Two armed protectorate stood inside the iron gate and a stabilized teleportation gate linked this portal to the slowly growing portal nexus in Haven.

The consulate itself was easily twice the size of the embassy building in Thul. It also had a massive courtyard, garden, and outdoor patio.

Serin, Jasmine, and Dana hand picked their consulate staff. A human was given the position of diplomat, since that would be the person who interacts most with the magistrate and nobles. By divine decree, the consulate's diplomate was given a status of good conduct. As long as he harmed no other people, he was given free reign of the city. However every other position was given to non-human races.

Although the consulate staff's jobs were varied and dealt with intelligence work, diplomatic relations, civil affairs, and many other areas, the first task was to provide aid.

So when the contract was complete, and Haven's primary protectorate forces left, a banner was hung just below the Consulate Sign.

'Free food, clothing, and medical aid to all those who enter our gates with kindness in their hearts'

Soon enough, just that happened. On the other side of the gates, Serin had thousands of meals and clothes being prepared. And soon there was a medical tent and dining area in the consulate courtyard.

A line soon formed for food, and although there was minimal seating space, not one person was turned away. The line for the consulate's aid started before dawn and stretched across the city, and did not end until well past nightfall.

At first people were frightened. Most had only heard horror stories of the 'monsters of Haven' and even if these people had saved their lives, they did so without showing their true form. Within the wall of the consulate, they were not armed and armored, only wearing the uniform of the consulate and carrying medical supplies or kitchen tools.

It did not take long before the commoners of Ston began to get used to these otherworldly peoples. It was easier with the more human looking elves, gole, and demis. Less so with the changelings. There were only two dhamphir, who had volunteered to clean at night, but the few that met them even warmed up to their relatively frightening visage.

The Consulate staff had other tasks as well. Some engaged in small talk to learn about how life was for the residents during the rebuilding. Some were there to gather what needs the citizens had that Haven could send adventurers for. And some were goodwill ambassadors. They told stories and made toys for children. Explained what made each race unique. They talked about only the good things: The Dhamphir's kindness, the Changeling's ambition, the Demis Loyalty, The Gole's ingenuity, the Elves' perseverance, the planetouched' family values, and the constructs...well most people thought the constructs were humans/possibly Content or otherwise mentally damaged, so no effort was made to correct them.

All in all it was going well. While food, supplies, good will, and medical aid were being distributed to the townsfolk, Wilton, the Human diplomat, took time to discuss relevant issues with the newly appointed magistrate and the council of nobles. His goals, however, were different. He wanted to be loathed by the city's leadership. As much as possible. An annoyance. He would still discuss at every meeting, even though he was neither invited or welcomed.

It's why he was picked. While most of Dana's spies and assassins were known for their outwardly quiet and kind demeanor, Wilton had a sharp tongue matched only by his dozens of sharp knives.

As a diplomat, he arrived unannounced at open city council meetings, often bringing his own chair. As the appointed diplomat, and after the Magistrate's previous debacle, they just had to put up with him.

Currently the discussion was on rebuilding the city. Wilton had brought his own Wooly steak dinner. It was a formal meeting, so he was the only one eating. While Wilton was cutting his food and enjoying dinner, the noblemen furiously discussed their immediate plans to remedy a city in shambles.

"We need to ensure that the gates are built stronger, since right now we have very little ability to move goods into the city and we need that throughput to get supplies from the agricultural burbs." One of the lead nobles on trade was speaking. "Our people are starving!" Strangely enough the noble speaking looked like he hadn't missed a meal in, well, ever. As quickly as he got his statement out though, it was cut off.

"No they aren't. I have been feeding them." Wilton interrupted between bites of his perfectly cooked steak, which he had served with cockatrice eggs and braised root vegetables, the parsnips, carrots, and grangerroot making a beautiful medley of color on his plate.

Taken aback, the councelor's discussion faultered, but only for a moment. In an effort to ignore the unwelcome input by the Haven diplomat, another Noble then piped in. "More important that trade, we need to get our basic industries back up. Our people need to start getting back to work. They will have nothing to trade if the traderoutes do open up if industry is not built back. These people have only the clothes on their backs and no way to cloth themselves when the winter comes."

"Got that covered too." Wilton again interrupted. This time cutting open a sunny side up egg and cracking peppercorn on it from his personal pepper grinder, which he had also brought with him.

The atmosphere was starting to grow animosity towards the diplomat. Usually he sat and scoffed at the comments, but now Wilton was purposely throwing off the conversation. In an effort to put the conversation back on track, a rather frail old man wearing simple white cloaks and large magical amulets then began, "Surely we can begin the mana donation to the Cleric's Guild. It is growing harder to deal with the remaining wounded and we are stretched thin, should disease strike we will surely perish."

Wilton, "Yep. that one as well. Day and night my medics heal your wounded and cure your sickness. Your archaic institution can take a bit of time to reorganize, since we have assumed your healing duties. "

It was the final straw for the Council. Judias, the replacement for the previous magistrate, slammed his fist down. "Diplomat Wilton, No one asked for your help! Your Consulate is not welcome here, you forced your way in. We in Ston can handle our own problems. You and your freaks are neither needed nor welcomed. Do our council a favor and leave."

Wilton set down his fork and steak knife. "It must take effort to be as oblivious to the actual situation as your council currently is. Actually, the only thing you said factual would be that my exit from this meeting would be a favor to the council. However it would be a poor choice. Our lines of supply and aid continue day and night. You nobles may not see it, as you are making your judgments off the reports of your lessers, but you are currently unable to sustain your own population. Your job as nobles is to see to the well being of your own citizens, which you have obviously failed to do. It's my role as a diplomat to encourage diplomatic ties with your nation, but as it would be more efficient, I would much rather kill you all."

They stood stunned. Wilton took another bite of steak. He continued to speak while chewing "However, your group sitting here in your clean robes and washed bodies, I can smell the fresh food coming off you. You have no idea how bad your citizens are off. Your people would be suffering but not for my generosity."

"You are not welcome! Leave this meeting." Judias responded. He was flustered and could not take the pointed accusations of what he considered an 'outsider'.

Wilston washed down his mouthful of food with a swig of chilled mead. "Haha. No. I do what I feel like. And as a diplomatic envoy, I am not barred from anywhere in Ston. You should really read the fine print of divine decrees. Instead I am going to tell you what's going to happen. I am going to tell you what you should do, which is focus on sustainable infrastructure with an emphasis on biosustainability. You SHOULD lean on Haven's aid, and use our generosity to jumpstart your rebuilding efforts. But that's not going to be what happens. You are going to ignore me and do whatever bad plan you decide on. You will notice that the majority of the citizens of your city are being fed our meals and clothed with pants, shirts, shoes and jackets, all of which are labeled 'Office of Diplomatic Relations - Haven', then you will make a few terrible decisions, one of you will come up with a really bad plan which the rest of you will either ignore or be complicit in, then when your plan backfires, you will all be eaten alive."

The room was in shock. Wilton looked down. He cut open his steaming potato, looked at his tableware setup and sighed. "Does anyone have any butter?"

The room erupted into chaos.

***

Serin had left Ston to the diplomats and aid workers. He was back in Haven, enjoying a nice soak in his absurdly large indoor bath. It had been a while since he could just sit and soak. Serin remembered how Olma took very little time on the front lines of Ston, willingly giving up the chance at killing and eating several new opponents. That was why Serin had Operation Blackout.

In the final days of the Ston siege, Haven's forces, armed with the prototype non-lethal technologies developed by Adam Brock, the Forest Elf, had captured dozens of specimens of every variety. Netted, caged, roped, and bound dozens of new types of monsters were packed and shipped back to Haven in secret. What creatures could be turned into Totems by King Jeffry or his proxy Nabi Thul, Those that couldn't would be assigned to Timot and Farrah, the Demis Tamers, for breeding. Those that could not be bred in captivity would be auctioned off for Hunting by any changelings that were unable to fight them at Ston.

Overall, it was a good plan. He had just made sure to have 2 extra of several species taken in for his own family's use. Serin had purchased a vessel from the fleet, hired a crew, and paid for the supplies and capture, so it wasn't as if he was throwing around his Lordship. He did however want to make sure that he could provide for his family.

Serin could also tell that Olma was wanting to expand the family, so Serin would have to ensure any future hunts took that into account as well. It was difficult to think about. Just a few years back He was a young boy fighting goblins and zombies. He was now leading a country set to be the strongest in terms of economic and technological progress.

And his people were happy. He was reminded every time there was a notice for request for refugees. And Serin was being reminded right now.

***