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angelo_wingsTwo weeks ago, General Fury Caraway, the Interim President of Galbadia, had told Rinoa that he would consider handing the sovereign state of Timber back to the rightful rule of its people if she could present him with a committee to replace Galbadian control. An acting government until free elections could be held, full of competent individuals who could be trusted to keep Timber's borders open and not allow the fledgling state with its all-important resources to collapse.
General Caraway had probably expected it to take Rinoa longer than two weeks to formalize such a committee, but then, her father always had underestimated her.
The past week had been a blur of preparations, organization, and reconnecting with all of her old friends in Timber. Once Rinoa had explained their goal, more and more Timbrans had opened up about other resistance fighters who kept a low profile, but were actually key members of vital groups. There had been twinges of suspicion, from those who had not known her before, but most had willingly met with her on the faith of their friends' say-so. With Squall's help, and with advice from the Chief, who was -- on all subjects except her own husband -- the most level-headed person she knew in Timber, Rinoa had finalized the potential list, and even convinced most of them to say yes.
All that was left, then, was to meet with Caraway again. Squall had suggested seeking out neutral territory, so they had caught the train to Dollet: a small duchy on the sea, at the far eastern edge of the Galbadian continent. The streets were narrow and cobblestone, and the buildings were crushed together and looming. Everything had a vaguely Old World feel, and the cheerful tourist atmosphere made it a lovely place to spend an evening.
The Shining Bomber pub was located just off the town square -- the main floor was noisy and crowded, and the second floor reserved for games of Triple Triad. Across the exterior bridge was the smaller (and higher stakes) VIP room.
The pub's owner was an artist who collected rare cards and painted them into newer cards, and Squall had done some collecting for him in exchange for favors (and, of course, the use of rare cards), which meant that he owed Squall a favor or two. The entire second floor had been cleared out for the evening, much to the disappointment of the regular players. Most of them seemed willing to drink, curse (loudly) and wait for the room to open up again.
Having the entire second floor meant it would be that much harder to be overheard, which was essential if you were discussing matters of national security. Which, of course, they would be.
Squall was waiting on the first floor, guarding the stairs fiercely. No one else was here. She had spotted a suspicious looking man out on the bridge, trying too hard to look nonchalant, but had realized that that was probably one of her father's security detail, sent ahead to secure the area. He was the acting president. He had to be careful, too.
The list of names was in a sealed envelope. Now, all Rinoa had to do was wait.
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General Caraway had probably expected it to take Rinoa longer than two weeks to formalize such a committee, but then, her father always had underestimated her.
The past week had been a blur of preparations, organization, and reconnecting with all of her old friends in Timber. Once Rinoa had explained their goal, more and more Timbrans had opened up about other resistance fighters who kept a low profile, but were actually key members of vital groups. There had been twinges of suspicion, from those who had not known her before, but most had willingly met with her on the faith of their friends' say-so. With Squall's help, and with advice from the Chief, who was -- on all subjects except her own husband -- the most level-headed person she knew in Timber, Rinoa had finalized the potential list, and even convinced most of them to say yes.
All that was left, then, was to meet with Caraway again. Squall had suggested seeking out neutral territory, so they had caught the train to Dollet: a small duchy on the sea, at the far eastern edge of the Galbadian continent. The streets were narrow and cobblestone, and the buildings were crushed together and looming. Everything had a vaguely Old World feel, and the cheerful tourist atmosphere made it a lovely place to spend an evening.
The Shining Bomber pub was located just off the town square -- the main floor was noisy and crowded, and the second floor reserved for games of Triple Triad. Across the exterior bridge was the smaller (and higher stakes) VIP room.
The pub's owner was an artist who collected rare cards and painted them into newer cards, and Squall had done some collecting for him in exchange for favors (and, of course, the use of rare cards), which meant that he owed Squall a favor or two. The entire second floor had been cleared out for the evening, much to the disappointment of the regular players. Most of them seemed willing to drink, curse (loudly) and wait for the room to open up again.
Having the entire second floor meant it would be that much harder to be overheard, which was essential if you were discussing matters of national security. Which, of course, they would be.
Squall was waiting on the first floor, guarding the stairs fiercely. No one else was here. She had spotted a suspicious looking man out on the bridge, trying too hard to look nonchalant, but had realized that that was probably one of her father's security detail, sent ahead to secure the area. He was the acting president. He had to be careful, too.
The list of names was in a sealed envelope. Now, all Rinoa had to do was wait.
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whateverknight heavily modded with permission. just for the general plz and thanks!)
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:02 am (UTC)There was a "but" still hanging in the air, but he would let her get to it instead of bringing it up himself. She didn't trust him, and that hurt, but it also showed a shrewdness that indicated she might actually be taking this seriously.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:07 am (UTC)So how did she even phrase this? If she angered him, or offended him, then the deal would be off. His temper would get the better of him and this would all be for nothing. And yet, she knew what happened to resistance fighters in Timber. She wasn't just holding a list of names. She was holding those people's lives. The Chief had three kids. Sometimes, Galbadian soldiers sent the guilty party to prison, but executed your loved ones, just to prove a point.
She shuddered, without realizing she had done so.
"If ... I give you this list," she said, slowly, "what happens next?"
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:20 am (UTC)She wasn't really asking if he'd keep his word, was she? She knew him better than that!
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:25 am (UTC)"Why?" she asked, finally.
She assumed he would understand that she wasn't asking why they should draft a constitution, or anything like that.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:28 am (UTC)Why was he going to meet with them? Why should they draft up laws?
Why was he doing all of this?
"Because you asked me to," he answered.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:34 am (UTC)The entire fate of global politics was resting on ... the fact that she had asked a favor of her estranged father.
"Dad," she said, her face sinking into her hands. "You can't ... you can't just do that."
no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 06:42 am (UTC)Perhaps 'flash' was the wrong word. 'Tantrum.' There.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-17 02:23 pm (UTC)"Well, no, not because you asked," he clarified. "Because you showed me it was important to you. Because it's not just one of your flights of fancy." If she hadn't spent the time researching and developing arguments, he would have just blown her off -- but because she HAD, he didn't care what specifically she'd come up with. She really couldn't win, here.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 02:25 am (UTC)Like somehow, she wasn't angry for herself, this time. Like the tantrum wasn't appropriate, except she should be angry. She ...
She folded her arms, trying to make sense of her father, and wondering at the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"So ... this is a game to you," she said, slowly. "I had to prove to you that it mattered, to me, and now you'll help people who need it. Timber ... deserves better than that, Daddy."
no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 02:47 am (UTC)"I'm not playing a GAME!" he roared. "I'm trying to hold an entire empire together by the skin of my teeth, and the feelings of the people of Timber aren't a high priority! LIVES are at stake! There are riots and people starving on the streets of Deling City! I'm trying to take care of basic needs -- food, shelter, security -- for ALL Galbadians, not just Timbrans!" He pounded a fist on the table. "I took time out of my busy schedule as a personal favor to you, because you matter to me!"
no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 07:58 pm (UTC)It was crazy when she was actually angry about something and right, at the same time.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-19 09:19 pm (UTC)This, if Rinoa was paying attention, explained so much about her childhood.
"Timber used to be a sovereign nation. It's part of Galbadia, now. If you want it to be independent again, you need to make sure it'll work!"