4th of Xenimatö, 0 BBT, Hour 12
It was a rare thing. Penma had arranged to come to Haltûldus to meet with him. She, all things considered, was a strange Imperö when compared to the rest. Trianar had always acted like it as war- and it was, against demons on the side of the Gods. Yet it led to those leaders holing themselves up in the Centrus system as if afraid of assassination, and an ever-present building up of the military. There was no attempt at diplomacy in Mekagrûl or during the Southern War. And it had been effective so far- against enemies weaker than them. But suddenly they were thrust into a sector of nations their same size, potentially larger. They had no clue the idea of the capabilities of these nations- Some may be weak, some may be strong. The previous tactics would not have worked. There now had to be nuance. And Penma understood this wholeheartedly- She did not act as if they were at war with every unchipped ship that entered Trianarö space. She understood that not every battle in this war against demons would be fought with missiles and dropships. It would be fought in diplomacy, in trade, and in influence- A concept that Trianar at large could barely comprehend. Yet the Imperö came to Haltûldus. She understood the concept as well- perhaps better- then Anderhold.
She was ushered in by one of his few staff- There were a scarce few staff keeping the place clean, and an even smaller number of diplomats that were being recruited. Many of these diplomats had been recruited from the strange “sport” known as the Great Game, and were much more well versed in subtlety and diplomacy than the average Trianarö. But this was a growing operation, and new people arrived every day.
In a few minutes of her arrival, The Imperö arrived in his office, nearly unannounced. He quickly rose from his chair and knelt at the side of his desk, speaking the word “Hail.” Wordlessly, she motioned for him to rise, and dismissed the guards that brought her in completely, sending them even away from the door.
"Thank you for having me, HD Anderhold. I have been informed of the content of our meeting already. " Anderhold felt a pang of fear. His doctrine of diplomacy was normal, in most part. But that last point was dangerous in the eyes of the wrong person. Especially the wrong Imperö. A few years ago, before Penma’s ascension, it would have easily gotten him jailed or killed- But he still sat before her. Even so, he felt the fear. How would she react? “I will get straight to the point- the reason, I suspect, you even asked my opinion,” she started. “You think Ikaranareans should not be diplomats.” He nearly winced, but then she finished her sentence.
“I agree.”
Anderhold was relieved. He did not miscalculate the Imperö.
“We, Ikaranareans, are a troubled people. We have memories of generations ago. Of the Krekenai. Of bloody, bloody wars. They are a shared trauma among all Trianarö, but we certainly have taken it worse. The demons, after all, were enemies that we were not supposed to be fighting. They were enemies the gods should have been fighting themselves. Small ones, sure, but in the end we didn’t know what it meant- Were we failing? Or was there something more? Now we stand in a sector, populated with nations, some of whom we think may be supporting the demons. I will tell you straight. Many of us are afraid. And when we are afraid, history has shown us that lashing out will work. That war is the path to victory. That is not the only path we must take in this new era. We must be tactful- and tact is something Ikaranareans have known for a long time. We are, after all, here to advance the War in the Heavens- but what we have forgotten after all the millennia of war, is that wars are not always fought on the battlegrounds.”
Penma had stunned him. She had voiced nearly exactly his thoughts on the matter, in such a more profound way. She was different then the other Imperös of the past, for sure. Subtle. A quality that would be needed into the future.
“I know our meeting was not long, HD, but I assure you that I appreciate your work tremendously. You are doing something very few Trianarö could do. I hope that you keep up the good work.” She paused, as if about to get up, but then spoke again. “Before I return to Narûs, where do you plan on getting recruits?”
Anderhold had been thinking about this as well. “I’ve been thinking of starting traditional recruitment like the military, if you’d allow it- but also, perhaps from the Great Game.”
“Ah,” she said. “Ca-lêxa, then.” Anderhold paused- She had just said “Lêsa-ca,” or “Very good” in the code-language of Xandau- the “language” of the Great Game. She gave a faint smile as she got up. "You are not the only one who dabbled in the great game when they were younger, HD Anderhold. I will be going. Keep up the good work- Trianar needs people like you more than ever.
As she left, he felt relieved. And he felt that Trianar was entering a new age. Not one of peace- but where that old saying “The pen is mightier than the sword” may be true. Where Trianarö could look at a doctrine written in ink, not in blood. Although the spear may have been omnipresent, there was going to be a new spear- A spear that conveyed messages and diffused conflicts, rather than continuing them. And he knew that without such a change, Trianar would die.
And both he and the Imperö agreed. Trianar must not, cannot, and will never die.