First Sovenian Ambassador

"Sovenia, where the restless ghosts outnumbered the living, for the permafrost that blanketed the first men preserves the dead."

-Tales of the North: Snow Country

©

A wretched sight of a woman curled up with pulled knees, Miriam waits by the column's cold feet with her eyes peering through the distant table, taking in the warm scene. She knows that the shadows behind her hold a hall full of men that would cut her open if she ever act indifferent.

So she just kept her hands to herself, a humble surprise lingering as she watches Sion socialize well in the noble scene. He'll never know he's sharing air with his stepsister seated across him offering his plate mountains of food like any older sibling would. It was her fortune that her son hides her, a solitary soul gone wild would seize all eyes in any festivities.

Soaked in cold sweat, her arm hairs stood up as a coolness passed her by, holding her in place as the heat of the far long table vacates the winds. It was a presence.

"You know, the breeze is entering the hall Miriam..." grim voices whispered from behind her, it belongs to a woman with breath carrying frost that shielded Miriam from warmth.

"If you uncork one of the poisons in your satchel, the wind will carry its scent and all the Frostguards behind us will fall like autumn leaves."

"Fancy meeting you here, Relhia." She welcomed the ghost creeping from behind. She can feel her embrace, hands sleeved by frostbite and hair saturated with icicles.

It was the late sovereign of Graygreen province. Rehlia Graygreen, Mother of Vallin, her unexpected protector, a woman that favoured her beyond death.

"Don't act all radiant child. We both know you... We, can purge this palace the moment you've set foot in the plaza."

"Why does your soul still linger? Your son prays for your rest yet you still annoy me like an old hag." Miriam whispered.

"I'll annoy you at every chance... I've always loved seeing you squirm like a slaughtered goose when you were young. You're my favourite woman in Viridia did you know? apart from myself, of course." Rehlia stepped out to the moonlight, dressed in the nightgown of her deathbed, the silver light piercing through her ectoplasm to reveal her shattered ribs and crunched heart. She died from a mountain's embrace in Bannar yet here she remains, stubborn as ever.

"Look at you, you've never looked so beautiful." Miriam jokes, making the old sovereign roll her eyes.

"If I were alive I would've wrestled you in the fountains."

Miriam missed this warm banter with Vallin's mother who was the only soul who contests her crassness. She was a friend.

"Why won't you ever let me give your soul its final rest? Why linger here Rehlia?" The Medium asked.

"Oh my dear, my poor dear. How I've waited many winters for this day..." The ghost moved aside for Miriam to have a clear view of the Graygreen family, Amanita, Vallin, and even Harinthal were a son in her eyes though a late mother birthed him.

"Go home, Miriam... You deserve to be dining with them. Only then I can eventually depart this awful realm." Rehlia embraced the Master Alchemist, somehow thinking that her transparent flesh of cold death could comfort the lonesome woman.

"Let me warn you that trading with us Sovenians is considered a high-risk high-reward. Land routes from our south-west have to cross the savage lands of Bannar..." Vallin recollects painful memories, the face of forbidden love, "and I just returned from a fresh strife at the Green border a few nights ago, barely escaping death..." the Kazer humbles himself, "your caravans would be unsafe from those savages."

"I can arrange a deal with the Zhoutanian Emperor to grant us a passage from his kingdom, my Caravans could enter Sovenian soil through the tundras of Syrosh'jhaal, then head south here in Graygreen instead of the original passage from Akan, that way we can avoid Bannari plunderers." Laguna pointed to the map set for them on the table.

"That would be much favourable for my province, plundered caravans are but a rare sight in our open Tundras and more trade means more money for us." The Young Bluebeard added to their conversation. "Our tribes could use more steam mechanizations that your Caravans can bring from Zhoutanian lands."

"It would be our pleasure to trade from your magical Tundras." Laguna offered a toast to the young warlock, he had read about the Bluebeard tribe from the previous Soven-Ocmen wars, even presenty. They had caused the sleepless nights of old Ocmenian Veterans, heroes crying until the dawn breaks with their mind. Like tortured slaves howling from their beds as if they're still facing the blue-flamed abominations of which this warlock tribe had released on the battlefield. Their magic breathes trauma...

"But what of the trade-route at sea that you mentioned?" Elliott Whiteraven asked. "It took you a whole season to arrive here and I don't think many goods can survive that duration of the voyage."

"Ah yes, we have a new port established in Witch Tongue." Laguna pointed at the city-state east of Dirge, the two peninsulas attached in different continents looked like limbs reaching at each other yet parted by sea.

"So, distance won't be a problem for us, but each of the Sovenian provinces you can reach from Witch tongue has its perils." Drina Bluesaile points her finger at the chain of islands between Dirge and Witch Tongue, "The Lonesome Isles is an administrative state, they harbour pirates and sea-plunderers so you're still at risk."

"I'm guessing that you know how that's the least of our concerns.." Laguna gave Geraldine Prudence a knowing look. He had seen too many corrupt politicians in his travels so he knows a master manipulator if he sees one. "For our sea trade to Graygreen, our cargo ships can take a route from Mezenia to Tri-state, then rest in Akan waters before travelling to the Akan city of Soap Port. I imagine Graygreen have ports far from the Green Border?"

"Indeed. We have ports untouched by the Bannari so you can rest at ease." Harinthal answered, no man in Viridia knows Graygreen as much as him.

"Good, good."

As the entire table talks about political details, Sion is more concerned about the details on the cake Amanita had offered his plate. The noblewoman in front of him has been satisfying his curious tongue too much that the boy doesn't know if he can still manage to stand up. Amanita knows, she did offer hills of food to him because one slip of his tongue and the table could turn hostile.

The Silver Lady knows of it too, Hildred on the other hand, claimed by Laguna to have the ability to access mentality on which the truth doesn't stray far, has a knack for sensing intentions. It is seen from their posture, where they shift their weight, if their voice modulates, where they direct their eyes, what it delivers to the mind and how they react to it, the inner-workings of attention and intention is a link she had studied all her life like lock and key.

Standing behind her grandson's chair, she can feel the cautious air that links the Silver Lady and the alleged daughter that Miriam had described, she feels like they know of the boy's identity. But that is of trivial matters, what concerns her more is the man cloaked and hooded besides the young Grey Lady who hasn't said a word since they've been seated, slowly sawing on the beef on his plate down to the bone, knife pointed at her grand-son.

"So, what allured you most about Sovenia so far?" Amanita asked the diplomat as they were rolling the map.

"Oh why, the warm people of Dirge of course!"

"Oh, you jest."

"Yes, I do jest... I"m afraid the pale citizens still act cold towards us Ocmenians. But some few welcomed us with open arms, much like our red-haired friend here." Laguna rested his arms on Sion's shoulder, the large man pulling him closer to his bare chest.

From their back, Hildred stood there smiling. Her eyes creasing from the exponentially rising desire of the hooded man to shed blood, but she's ready to defend her grandson, she always do.

"And I'm glad that he will be coming home with us as an ambassador of Sovenia, the very first in history." the diplomat proudly announced, causing a mix of reactions from the banquet, "I've established an agreement from his family and from the Ocmenians Queen herself to make this happen."

"Of course, the Dirgean Government approves of it..." the Silver Lady raised her glass to the Diplomat, "I'm sure Sir Sion here would be a perfect reflection of our land's beauty and virtue."

All eyes turned to a cracking sound. A silver plate tore into two by the hooded man between the Silver and Grey Lady, hands trembling as he set down the thin cutlery knife on the table. "Pardon my guard, he... He is not used to fine dining." Drina excused, a defiant smile etched on her pale face.

"Anyways, why choose him? I get that he stands accommodating- appearance-wise, but, what qualified you to establish an embassy in Ocmenia?" Vallin asked the young alchemist who is just as shocked as everyone else.

He doesn't, for the life of him, any damn idea what to say.

"I... Can speak to animals?"

Silence settled on the banquet, up until The Kazer bursted out a near-screaming laughter even with the pain from fresh wounds each time his ribs beg to catch air. The Golden Lady almost choked on her wine upon hearing the boy's statement. She knows that he didn't intend to call the Ocmenians animals but it sure lightened the heavy air in the banquet.

"Send this creature to Ocmenia as soon as possible!" the Kazer rasped between short breaths, "I'm sure he's the most qualified Sovenian!"

Sion is tongue-tied, he knows that Miriam and Hildred brewed this idea earlier, maybe for years through their weekly sent letters. His mum always hinted to him on cold nights that he could be sent into far lands at any given time, which is perhaps the now.

"Accordingly, the Ocmenian queen stated from a recent letter that the ambassador should be accompanied by an aide and a guard, to fill in whatever he may lack." Hildred handed the Kazer a parchment from behind, inside is a letter she had written hours ago in Miriam's bedroom, string her terms in consent with Miriam. This is what she showed up for.

With spoon struck on goblet, all ears were held as Vallin clears his throat to read the Queen's terms.

"I, Hildred Gazhafina, Sovereign of the Gwandoyan Sands, Reigning Queen of Ocmenia... To the Sovenian lands... Place my trust to Laguna Gazhafina on whoever candidate he deems desirable to subsist as the countenance of Sovenia. They will be provided for with utmost convenience with an overabundance of whatever resources they mandate to fulfil their role as ambassador..."

"Regarding this, the ambassador is to be assisted with an aide to administer the role of deputy, and a guard to ensure the security of our Sovenian colleagues..."

"Kazer Vallin..." Laguna interjects, "We have received an earlier letter from the Royal Court heeding this matter when we were in our voyage." He signaled Hildred to hand the Kazer another parchment.

"Ah right, let's see here... As recent news of Sovenian controversies reach the south, I, Hildred Gazafina, assign Miri-"

"What?" Vallin stood up from his seat, face forming a scowl as his eyes re-read a part of the letter until it can comprehend its meaning. If a glare could burn, the letter would have its ashes drift to the gloaming sky already.

"assign Miriam... Blackmercy as the Aide of the chosen ambassador of which my Grandson has placed. It has come to my attention that The Nightshade Heroine has talents... better optimized for serving her country in our lands under the impression of an exile. As for the Guard, I grant full authority to the Sovenian government to send us whoever they see capable in protecting the symbol of Soven-Ocmenian Diplomacy..."

A guard, Vallin's eyes settled upon the Golden Lady, even the Diplomat himself has been glancing at the matriarch since their first meeting, as if he can see his clear reflection from her golden breastplate.

"I hope this would be the start of a harmonious relations between us war-giant countries, may the nations between us tremble for the upcoming cycles... there rests the Ocmenian Queen's terms..." Vallin had unknowingly handed back the letter to its writer. He has no power to object, eyes sweltering with the army of torches on the patio which on his own, is not hotter than his rage, but he doesn't let it show.

"I highly approve of this man to reside on an embassy." Drina stood up, ready to stir the pot on which the Sailor's rage is heated. And she savours the flavour so well, breathing slowly through her nose as her tongue swirls around the taste of her words.

"He is a character of virtue and high morality. Grew up at the very mouth of the Dirgean slums providing free medicines through a self-run apothecary. You should see how every child in the slums circles around him like little ducklings. My point is, that he is a contributor to society and is aware of what's best for the newer generation of this ancient country. Not to mention how approachable and young the lad seems, he would surely capture the hearts of your nation, what el-"

A hoarse voice of deep rancour drenched the warm banquet, interrupting the Silver Lady.

"The lad doesn't know of Sovenia's history."

Sion smiled to himself, he knew all along it was Ian seated across him in a forlorn attempt to be discreet.

"Not even Ocmenian, sure he'll capture hearts but what does he know of our national interest? Our ancestral past? He doesn't even show up his face to the Dirgefolk because he believes we are racists and so does the aide..." Ian said in a vindictive confidence, knuckles white and expression pale, his eyes cold fixed on his childhood friend.

"And once he's there, what will happen while our Political Ideologies are falling down the cliff? If war is on the horizon as tensions break? Does brewing potions and sitting pretty do anything for this nation?" Ian stood up, taking a look around the nobles in the banquet, their brows raised as if he just contradicted a universal truth-

Beauty breaks boundaries, doing so unfairly. And this boy, regardless of temperament, is a breathing weapon of beauty.

"Well, that was pleasant to hear." The Golden Lady remarks, staring between the Sailor and the ambassador candidate as her mind had finally connected all dots since last night's banquet.

"Be not mistaken, our friend here is only speaking out of concerns and kindness of heart." Laguna stood up as well, walking around the table to pour wine on the Silver Lady's empty goblet, "He only worries that Sion Blackmercy may lack what good diplomacy requires but I am a good judge of character."

"What do you know of his 'character' when you've only met him yesterday!?" Ian attempts his best to not let his irritation surface but his scalp burns with an itch that only a skinned skull can seem to solve.

"His character you say? Oh, where do I start!" The diplomat circled back to his seat, standing as he rest his hand on Hildred's shoulder.

"He is inquisitive enough to ask me of fundamental topics, humble and tact to admit what he doesn't know of, acts selfless to the slum children, is reflective of his actions and stays transparently genuine. I've witnessed these qualities first-hand in a span of an afternoon and they appeared naturally, which is what makes an outstanding diplomat, takes one to know one... "

He took his seat once more, sipping on wine to transmit his next statement in utmost smoothness, this argument was over before it started. "But how come you don't see this in him if you've known each other your whole lives? Aren't you his childhood friend?" Laguna pursed his lips to hide a smile, from the diplomat's perspective the banquet appears like a world war against a small state.

"Well, aren't you going to speak?" Drina whispered from underneath, the Sailor can hear the smile from her words.

"If that doesn't convince you then I'm sure you have seen what our charismatic friend here did earlier in the plaza. Should he not stood up for Miriam Blackmercy, the mob of nobles would have been allowed to trample her to death."

"Lady Blackmercy was here?" Vallin held on to his bandaged chest, the fire in his eyes doused with worry.